Her head throbbed.
An intense, splitting pain, as if she'd been hammered by a Gigant.
Azriel opened her eyes.
She did not see a clean white ceiling. The surface beneath her back was extremely uncomfortable, and the air was filled with the foul stench of Spirit Remnants, the aftermath of slaughtered spirits.
Every single thing about her situation made Azriel feel extremely ill at ease.
"What in the—"
Before she could finish her sentence, the girl lost the ability to speak. An intense wave of pain washed over her body like a tsunami crashing against a building, as if every inch of her was screaming in agony.
Azriel's beautiful face contorted violently. The pain was so severe she wanted to roll on the ground. In all her long life, she had never been in such a miserable state.
"Are you alright?"
Just then, the voice of the Flügel's Extra Unit—Jibril—sounded by her ear.
"Is that you, Little Jibril?"
Hearing her younger sister's voice, Azriel instantly became clear-headed.
She struggled to her feet and saw her little sister.
"Little Jibril, I missed you so much! Meow!"
As if her IQ had been completely drained away, the First Unit of the Flügel, who just moments before had been a weapon of slaughter, took tiny steps and lunged toward her sister.
The big sister, who had been regressed into a loli, leaping towards her younger sister, who was now the very picture of a mature, older woman, was a sight of unparalleled absurdity.
"Senior Azriel, you are being truly disgusting—"
Jibril, with a look of utter disgust, pressed a single hand against the forehead of the one Artosh called "that thing" instead of "Unit One," stopping her in her tracks.
Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Azriel began to look around warily.
A small mountain composed of other, clearly de-aged Flügel entered her line of sight.
The scene was comical, to say the least.
"Where is that guy?"
Finally recalling her defeat, Azriel scanned her surroundings vigilantly and asked Jibril.
"You mean that guy, Li Zihan?"
Jibril, who had asked for the man's name when she was thrown in here to act as a medic for the other Flügel, let out a sigh.
"That guy will probably offer up the act of releasing us as a favor to our master."
"Offer a favor to our master?"
Hearing this, Azriel was completely baffled.
Offer a favor to the God of War...
What kind of maneuver was that?
"To put it simply, our master is hoping for a battle between equals, or even one where he is at a disadvantage. That guy is more than happy to appear as our master's enemy, but he's also worried he might lose."
Jibril, who had a rough understanding of the man's methods, sighed and explained.
"By selling more favors to our master, he can probably ensure that when he is defeated, he can make a graceful exit from the battlefield instead of being relentlessly hunted down."
"Hah?"
Azriel was stunned for a moment, then became indignant.
"That guy is too shameless!"
"But there's nothing we can do about it, is there?"
Jibril, who had been completely and utterly crushed in terms of martial strength, recalled the man whose power was likely on par with the End Dragon and capable of fighting their master, and the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Why don't we take everyone and escape?"
Azriel, not sensing the man's presence nearby, looked at her little sister and glanced around warily.
She felt that if they could just break the spatial lock on the area and activate Heaven's Shift, they should be able to get away.
"We can't escape."
The merciless words came from Jibril's mouth. Then, she performed a spell, creating a mirror.
Azriel looked over and saw several figures in the mirror.
They were a few individuals who looked somewhat like monkeys, yet not quite... no, it would be more accurate to say they were fundamentally different.
An old man, dressed like a gentleman, yet inexplicably brought to mind a savage wolf.
A swordsman, dressed in light attire, with a sunny smile.
A young nobleman with a gloomy face, clearly displeased about something.
A superhero dressed like a white-collar worker.
A peerless martial artist in the magnificent dress of Shenzhou, her beauty and grace unmatched.
Clearly, they were all a certain someone's brothers and sisters from different parents.
For various reasons, they had now become the guards of the Flügel—or rather, the ghostly guardians of the Flügel.
Eternal Destruction—Second Rank • Formation (Yetzirah):
The stage where one materializes their own Holy Relic as a weapon, transcending the human domain to reach the realm of the superhuman.
Disregarding the power of the Holy Relic itself, the user also gains immense physical strength and a tenacious body, while their five senses are hyper-evolved and their sixth sense is sharpened.
At this stage, if there are souls of particularly high density consumed by the Holy Relic, it seems it is also possible to materialize them.
Clearly, these were the spiritual bodies manifested through Li Zihan's temporary Holy Relic—the Divine Sword of Salvation.
"The Fire-Bringer can only steal one Authority at a time, and the Ring of Usurpation is the same."
The man who had directly used force to acquire the Authorities of his brethren had once remarked with emotion after a string of victories, relying on power that far surpassed that of a God-Slayer.
"But the excellent Authorities held by my brothers and sisters are not limited to just two."
"So, I'll just bring their past selves to the present."
After taking care of all the God-Slayers except for Aisha, the scoundrel who was skilled at toying with time had very naturally chosen to pull the past Wolf King, Sword King, Demonic Cult Master, and others into the modern era.
Then, naturally, a 'heart-to-heart' discussion between brothers and sisters commenced.
The end result was that Li Zihan obtained the Authorities of all the God-Slayers except for Aisha, and turned them into nourishment for his Mage Refinement.
The God-Slayers, unable to turn the tables and seize control during their absorption into the Divine Sword of Salvation, were naturally forced to become a certain someone's servants.
To be honest, this was likely a very unpleasant affair for each and every one of the God-Slayers.
However, to a certain scoundrel, it was clearly a matter of no concern.
Plenty of people disliked him already; a few more wouldn't make a difference.
---o---
"So... we just wait here for our master to come and collect us?"
Feeling that this development was utterly humiliating, Azriel's wings drooped, and her expression turned listless.
"No—"
"Why should we just wait here?"
To Azriel's astonishment, the Flügel, who vaguely remembered that a certain someone referred to those who slew gods as his compatriots, had a gleam in her eye.
If she wasn't mistaken, the so-called "compatriots" didn't refer to a blood relationship.
In that case, the reason they were called compatriots became very intriguing.
"Wouldn't it be better to use this opportunity to figure out the source of power for that God-Spirit who isn't a god at all?"