Your Highness Ariana?"
As a "night watchman," how could Leonard be unfamiliar with the name Ariana?
The abbot of the Monastery of the Night, the head of the thirteen archbishops, and a potential future pope—this Agent of the Night, regardless of his identity, is common knowledge that cannot be avoided in religious studies and mysticism.
But how could the angels who have been stationed at the Darkness Monastery and protected the Wintershire Sanctuary for years appear in the highlands?
The miracle brought by the "Hidden Servant" greatly boosted the morale of the defeated army. Taking advantage of the moment when his colleagues and allies were cheering or rejoicing, Leonard sneaked into a corner where no one was paying attention. After observing for a while, he lowered his voice and asked another ancient being inside his body.
"Old man, Princess Ariana has actually come to the front lines?"
"Hey, do you think He shouldn't have come, or are you shocked?" Pales suddenly fell silent, his tone sarcastic.
"That's an angel..."
"Angel?"
Pales chuckled twice, as if he had heard an extremely funny joke.
He seemed to be mocking the abbot of the Night Monastery who had just arrived at the front lines, or perhaps he was mocking Leonard, who had never seen the world. But as he laughed, this ancient man of mysterious origin fell silent, and the long silence spoke of his lament.
"Angel..."
"Boy, there are far more angels walking on the highlands than you can imagine, far more than you have heard of, far more whose names can be found in the holy scriptures."
This… Leonard's mouth dropped open, his emotions a jumbled mess, unable to contain himself for a moment.
Witnessing an angel in person is a lifelong honor for believers, regardless of country or faith. But judging from the old man's tone, angels, who usually only exist in myths and legends, seem to be everywhere on this desolate continent beneath his feet. This inexplicable sense of cheapness, coupled with the rational understanding that angels must be noble, gave Leonard a feeling of unreality.
He paused for a few seconds to process the question, then asked another one.
"Old man, do you mean the other angels have joined the war?"
The "cohabitant" inside him did not answer, so Leonard continued to press for an answer.
"The arrival of Princess Ariana means that Trensus has also sent one of the angels closest to the Pope's position. The pressure on the front lines is immense, and another angel must share the burden."
"The Pope, the true creator, can't possibly be on the front lines, can he?"
"I heard from other companies that someone saw a black giant in Morfala last week, and at the same time, Saint Leon of the Church of the Eternal Sun fell. Did the Pope of the True Creator make his move at that time?"
The Pope… Pales's earlier remark about a young man had amused him, but when the truly ignorant and ridiculous words came, Pales couldn't even manage a slight upturn of his lips.
He breathed a sigh of relief, adjusted himself for a moment, quickly suppressed his awkwardness, and resumed his usual teasing tone.
"How much of the training the Church of the Night gave you at the Silent Church did you actually take in?"
"Use your brain! Ouro's nickname is 'Angel of Fate,' how could He possibly be a black giant!"
"And what if Ouroius really goes to the front lines, and Ariana is sent to stop him?"
Pales snorted, and though he didn't explain, his disdainful attitude seemed to say it all.
"I've never seen Him…" Leonard muttered a few words of defense, realizing he had made a basic mistake, and quickly changed the subject, "But old man, why do you know so much about angels, and even call them by their names? You seem to have no respect at all…"
Before Leonard could finish speaking, his "cohabitant" inside him, whether intentionally or unintentionally, interrupted him.
"But if you're saying that the true creator sent the one closest to the Pope, then you're right."
"Why?"
"Let me ask you, how many sequences are there in one pathway?" Pales said at a moderate pace, seemingly unconcerned about Leonard's unfinished question.
"From sequence nine to sequence one, there are nine in total. Isn't that common sense?" Leonard rubbed his eyes.
"Then where do you think the true gods came from?"
Why did the Four Emperors' War, known as the most brutal war of gods, occur in the Fourth Age?
"Haven't you always been curious about how your former colleague, who clearly believed in the true Creator, could use the Sun Symbol to invite divine punishment?"
One question after another was thrown at Leonard, leaving him overwhelmed.
Because of his "cohabitation partner," he knew more secret knowledge than his "red glove" colleagues. He also obtained some records about the Quaternary period from a secret organization that believed in an unknown god—the "Hermitage of Fate"—either through sharing or by purchasing them.
These actions helped him confirm the divine identities of the main characters in the "Battle of the Four Emperors".
Yes, if the birth of God is unrelated to the means by which He came, then the origins of the emperors of the Fourth Age cannot be explained… Faced with the many questions thrown at him by "cohabitants," Leonard attempts to analyze them.
However, the education he received from childhood, which instilled in him a fear and reverence for deities, always hindered him from making bolder associations. It was as if a wall was blocking him from the truth, always leaving him just one step away from pushing open the door that was blocking him.
After thinking for a long time, Leonard's usually good-looking face suddenly contorted, and he squeezed out a guess bit by bit through his teeth with great difficulty.
"You mean there's a rank above Sequence One, corresponding to a True God?"
"You should have understood long ago," Pales said calmly. "Every god you know now was not born that way. Long ago, they were just ordinary extraordinary beings, just like you and me, and they were once angels."
"Angel, oh, angel."
In Leonard's mind, the sphere of light symbolizing Pales slowly shrank.
"Although in your understanding, angels symbolize mythology itself, commenting on which angel is the greatest can only be done from a faith perspective. Believers will naturally praise the angels who serve their faith."
"However, the difference between angels is far greater than you imagine. To use an inappropriate analogy, it might be as great as the difference between you and a demigod."
"Me and a demigod?" Leonard exclaimed.
His first thought was that the old man was joking with him.
"How is that possible? Even if they are Sequence One and Sequence Two, aren't they still angels?"
"So, you're saying you understand angels better than I do?"
"Young man, do you think you know Him better than an angel?"
The sudden confession shattered Leonard's rationality, and an immense sense of unreality enveloped him, toying with his malfunctioning nerves.
The less-than-professional "requiem master" completely crashed, while Pales continued talking, almost to himself.
"The concept of Sequence One is very broad. Some are only one ritual away from becoming gods, while others only contain the characteristics of Sequence One."In short, there are two Sequence Ones under the throne of the true Creator who are very close to the throne. Besides Ouro, the other should have already arrived at the highlands. He will not miss any war; He is the embodiment of war."
"The angel you mentioned, the 'Eternal Sun,' was probably killed by Him."
Leonard fell silent, and Palles saw confusion and dejection on his face.
"Old man..."
"Um?"
After a long while, Leonard's beautiful emerald green eyes rolled around blankly.
"Tell me, is everything we're doing really meaningful?"
He knew the old man rarely answered his pointless questions, so he continued.
"Judging from your tone, you're a Sequence One?"
"Yes." Pales didn't know why he had to admit it. He was also facing his own bitterness, and the emptiness in his heart made him loosen his mouth.
"Then why...why did you get on top of me?"
Finally, Leonard asked the question that concerned him the most.
He hesitated for a moment.
"Because I'm also running away."
"What are we running from? The enemy, or..."
"An enemy," He sighed, "an enemy who is also very close to the throne of God."
"The youngest son of the true Creator."
...
"That's great. It seems that even though I haven't been by His side all these years, He has been doing quite well."
Admiring the pure white dome that encompasses countless folds of space, and glancing over the epic paintings painted in vibrant colors by stained glass, Amon patted the armrest of the bench, the muffled sound echoing through the empty church.
In order to welcome this important guest, St. Aarons was put on high alert. The usually crowded Church of Salvation was deserted of believers and priests, even though the visiting guest did not show up in person.
The angelic Amon clone pushed up the crystal lens near his right eye, turned his neck, and looked diagonally behind him.
"I originally thought you would replicate a city centered around a church, based on the template of the Kingdom of Heaven, to recall the Kingdom of Heaven era."
"Isn't that what 'twilight' does?"
Like a mischievous child, He kept His eyes fixed on the pure white wings that brushed past Him, and He had tried so hard to keep up until now without plucking out a single feather to play with.
"The Lord has not had a good time; He has had a very difficult time all these years."
The Pope Regent of the Empire, a synonym for perfection, the holy and great "Angel of Fate" Urolius lowered his eyes and scrutinized the young man he had watched grow up, a rare expression of emotion appearing in his tone.
He seemed unaware of Amon's desperately restrained impulses and desires, and his wings on his back unconsciously tucked back.
"The Lord... has never escaped the shadow cast upon Him by that rebellion."
"He believed he should atone for his sins, for the innocent who died in the catastrophe, and for the promises and ideals he was unable to fulfill."
Ulorus took two steps forward, his fair, well-defined hands pressing firmly on Amon's shoulder. His silver eyes were faintly tinged with blood red, his pupils contracting as if he were approaching a wild beast. His usual indifference was being eroded by an imperceptible resentment.
"He also believes that you should atone for your sins."
"For me?" Amon clapped his hands dramatically, a familiar smile curving his lips. "You're saying He did it for me?"
"I don't understand, just like you." Urolius tightened his grip, though it wouldn't have made an angel feel the slightest discomfort. "But your stubbornness, your cruelty, your cowardice, you have many sins, each of which would be enough to punish a mortal with the most severe punishment. I have convinced myself that the Lord torments himself for these very reasons."
"Are you serious?" Amon asked in surprise, seeing seriousness in the "Angel of Fate's" delicate features.
And through this little bit of emotion, He saw more. He realized that the people He was once most familiar with had changed, and He gradually felt estranged from those who had cared for Him.
In the past, during the Kingdom of Heaven, they would often take the opportunity of gatherings to make bets, saying that if the great serpent ever developed emotions, it would surely be the end of the world.
Fate should not have emotions. Since useless mortal things are now polluting the fair and merciless fate, then the end of the world must be coming sooner than expected.
In a daze, Amon seemed to hear an abnormal thumping sound, but he quickly realized that it was not an illusion.
Immediately afterwards, the "Angel of Fate," whose face was devoid of any superfluous expression, suddenly pushed Him forward.
The festering flesh shunned the Son of God, giving Him space to adjust His hasty steps. The viscous shadows melted and dissolved, and the curtain that monopolized the space collapsed into sand, falling onto the mottled, decaying black armor, awakening the slumbering madman.
The Cathedral of Salvation above the earth was as magnificent as this place was in ruins. Looking at the mess, Amon mechanically raised his arm upwards, his fingers touching the crystal lens near his right eye. He had done this action countless times, but he got stuck at the last step.
The giant, clad in armor, slowly moved his head on the broken stone pedestal. The helmet and neck guard made a chilling scraping sound as they rubbed together, and the scarlet single eye behind the visor shone even brighter.
No one interrupted Him, letting Him continue making noise until He met His gaze with that of Amon below.
The giant glanced at the young man with black hair and black eyes, uncertain, then looked again. Suddenly, the red light behind the mask vanished, and terrifying murmurs surged from all directions, sounding like curses and rebukes against some non-existent person.
When the crimson light returned, it had already fallen onto Urolius's face.
He struggled to prop himself up with his hands, his voice broken and intermittent, like two pieces of metal rubbing together.
"Orochi, my condition is not very stable."
"You're lacking rest. Just leave the front lines to Medici. You don't need to send your clones to oversee things every time," Urolius replied calmly.
"Yeah?"
The giant was puzzled. The crimson light shifted to the left, illuminating the youth for a fleeting moment before quickly turning away, and he fell silent.
In the strange silence, Amon paused for a moment, then looked back, his eyes filled with confusion.
Ulorus winked at Him, his gaze as indifferent as ever, letting Amon steal his thoughts.
Medici only informed me that you would come; neither of us told the Lord about it.
"Saslil." Amon suddenly spoke, still looking back.
The giant at the top did not respond, but instead raised his cross-shaped longsword in a rather agitated manner, adding another stroke to the countless marks of sword and axe strikes beneath the stone seat.
The first attempt failed. Amon straightened his head, blinked behind his crystal lenses, and lowered his head.
He suddenly broke into a smile.
...
The avatar of the "Angel of Time" exploded into fireworks before Urelius's eyes. As always, the child was cowardly and ran away.
The giant above heard all of this, and his voice rang out amidst his murmurs.
"Urelius, it feels like I'm dreaming. Those illusions are back; they're bewitching me, deceiving me…"
The "Angel of Fate" stared at the paving stone where the "Angel of Time" had stood a few seconds earlier, and shook its head.
"No."
"It was just a dream, a not-so-good dream, and I was watching you."
"Just now... it was just an ordinary dream."