He couldn't even become himself.
The Archer, cursing his past self and his present, draws a spear from his coffin. Cao Cao, in response, readies his own spear.
"Twilight Holy Spear!"
"Dawn Demon God Spear!"
In an instant, the tips of their spears clash.
The disparity in experience between these two is overwhelming.
Having walked nearly the same path as the current Cao Cao, the Archer fought for five more years. Not against stray devils or feral magical beasts, but against the kin of the Evils of Humanity, Satans, and even aberrations from outer space.
Five years and an extraordinary history. Being the same person, this gap cannot be bridged by willpower alone. No, even in willpower, the Archer surpasses him.
"Guh!"
"Your greatest failure in life was hesitating to use Samael's poison when you first fought Issei Hyoudou."
The poison of God. The absolute torment inflicted by God upon Samael for tempting Adam and Eve with the Fruit of Knowledge. The ultimate dragon-slaying poison. Though the truth is the opposite, that's irrelevant to Cao Cao.
He hesitated to use the dragon-slaying poison against Issei Hyoudou, bearer of the dragon factor. Not out of fear of killing him.
"Is this the power of a hero? Is this proof of human worth? You arrogantly agonized and held back. You hated the devil before you, finally reaching the moment to kill him, yet you obsessed over how to kill! As if you couldn't face Goetia, the Professor, or Asia unless you defeated him with your own power! When every ounce of strength you gained was never truly yours!"
He had the power of the mightiest holy relic. The wish to become a hero. The conviction to protect humanity from aberrations.
The power was ornamental. The wish was borrowed. The conviction was a gift.
Everything about him was fake.
Because he was a false hero, he couldn't kill the true "devil."
"The Issei Hyoudou you failed to kill pried it open. The power bestowed by the God of the Bible—a Noble Phantasm meant only for the apocalyptic beast, The Final Judgment: Apocalypse Now—he used it to open a gate to outer space!"
A gate to another dimension, unfurled in the starry sky. A Noble Phantasm so mana-intensive that only Trihexa, with its absolute magical power, should have been able to wield it.
"That man used the absurd power of the Oppai God and the Red Dragon Emperor's gauntlet to tap into forbidden power! Only he could be permitted such an outrageous miracle!"
It wasn't a joke. It defied common sense. That was the unforgivable injustice.
"What do you think came through that gate? A benevolent god ruling spirits? An evil god of mechanical life? A Heroic Spirit sent by the Counter Force? A wandering planet that destroys all life? An ordinary human fighting to survive? No, none of those."
Just as Solomon observed countless worlds with his Clairvoyance, a version of Issei Hyoudou from another world line, through communion with the Oppai God, proved the existence of other worlds.
The beings of that world caught the resonance of Issei Hyoudou and the Oppai God, discovering this world, "D."
"Issei Hyoudou's excessive synchronization with the spirit drew the attention of an entirely different fourth cosmos. Yes, the malevolent primordial chaos, the evil god Azathoth!"
Azathoth, the creator of a mad cosmos.
Cao Cao, hearing this, revealed his shock.
"That's absurd—Azathoth, the Cthulhu Mythos, is supposed to be a fictional mythology, the delusion of one man!"
"But it was real. The fictional mythology spun by a dreaming man accurately described the existence of higher-dimensional beings from outer space. It aligned. It brought a glimpse of that cosmos into this universe. Even if it was steeped in delusion from start to finish, that man forged a path. And Issei Hyoudou, unwittingly and irresponsibly, inherited that baton."
"Impossible…!"
Cao Cao rejected the Archer's memories—not that Azathoth existed, but that it invaded this universe.
The Cthulhu Mythos, a fictional lore crafted from a novelist's dreams. Despite its lack of mysticism and short history, this fabricated pantheon captivated many with its unfathomable madness. But if those mad gods were real, the implications shift. That mythos was delusion. It had to be delusion. No matter which other mythologies were real, that one alone had to remain fantasy.
"The Demon God Raum had been probing that cosmos… tentatively called 'C.' He likely didn't expect to use his research, meant to summon, to repel instead."
It wasn't entirely unknown. That was the only solace. There was no other.
Five years after God's revival, the Archer died in life. Though unconfirmed, humanity's population likely fell below a million. In five years, that many died, but in the first year alone, five billion perished—mostly due to this evil god's invasion.
"Many mythologies helped close that gate. A higher-dimensional god spreading madness just by existing wasn't something they could ignore. But I foolishly thought that if this planet's life united, even an evil god could be subdued."
"Foolish, you say?"
"Because afterward, the God of the Bible annihilated every mythology!"
It couldn't even be called a second Age of Exploration. It was far beyond that.
All worlds except the human realm, Heaven, and the Underworld were physically erased. Olympus and Hades sank in a flood. Yggdrasil burned in a rain of sulfur and fire. Mount Sumeru was swallowed by an earthquake. Takamagahara was encased in glaciers. Even hidden realms of minor races faced thorough slaughter. Every heaven and hell was drenched in blood.
Non-Biblical mythologies were utterly eradicated. Once angels, devils, and fallen angels cleared the aberrations, the Lahmu culled humanity. The human race was toyed with and killed by God's disappointment.
"Because of your petty pride, countless humans died! If you'd used Samael's poison from the start, the outer gods wouldn't have found this world. The mud's corruption, the Lahmu's ravaging, the defeat of this planet's life by the God of the Bible—none of it would have happened!"
He despised the God of the Bible for mocking Goetia. He resented Solomon, the root cause. He raged at Rizevim for using the mud. He harbored killing intent toward Issei Hyoudou for summoning outer gods. He couldn't forgive Azazel or Michael for sacrificing humanity for the God of the Bible. But ultimately, the one he couldn't forgive was himself. The one who obsessed over victory and couldn't choose death.
"I admired the ideal of being hailed as a hero. I chased the noble pinnacle Goetia and the others aimed for. Thus, I had no feelings spilling from within!"
He was empty. Swayed by fate, dancing to destiny.
"Born with the mightiest spear, I was driven by an obsession to achieve greatness. I ran arrogantly forward. But I was just a fake. Such flimsy resolve could never forge a path of supremacy. No, I couldn't even decide why I aimed to be a hero."
Cao Cao's demonic spear was deflected by the Archer's holy spear, sent flying.
"Look, this is the result—me. Forgetting the name my parents gave me, discarding even the name stolen from my ancestors, a nameless cleaner."
He couldn't stop walking. He couldn't stop fighting.
He should have given up on living. Admitted he was weak. Known that everything about him was fake.
He killed the Four Great Satans. Destroyed the Lahmu. Protected a sliver of humanity.
But what did it matter?
Even after the Archer's death, the God of the Bible persists in that world. He dreams someone inheriting his coffin might succeed, but such convenient fantasies don't exist.
"Heroic sagas filled with glory and honor are fairy tales! The heroes you admired, whom people call heroes, bore resolve and wounds incomparable to you! The conviction to prevail, even drinking muddy water—that's what people call an ideal!"
What remained was deep regret.
Arms that saved no one.
And a spear soaked in human blood.
A fitting end for a fake.
"If you can't accept even that obvious truth, drown in your delusions!"
The Archer's spear pierced Cao Cao's heart.
"To overturn the past painted in crimson with you."
Juggernaut Final Drive!
As Issei Hyoudou finished the incantation, his armor was crimson. Ironically, it matched the hair color of the woman he once called master.
"Crimson Red Dragon Emperor… no, it should be called this: Crimson Demonic Dragon Emperor, Crimson Goetia Promotion. The final form of the Red Dragon Emperor."
Everyone was stunned. No, they had to be, at the hatred radiating from the most comradely among them.
"What's that form, Issei? The Red Dragon Emperor's armor, not red but crimson…? There's no precedent. What did you do…!"
"Something you don't know, Azazel."
Unveiling his hostility and killing intent, Issei closed the distance step by step.
"What's wrong, Issei-kun? Why are you…?"
"No, that's wrong, Sirzechs Lucifer. It's the opposite—what's been wrong is everything until now. Isn't that right? I bore the cursed power of the Red Dragon. I should've been killed much earlier."
"That's it…! Sirzechs-sama, Solomon's personality likely still lingers in Issei-kun! Issei-kun, can you hear me? Please, wake up!"
"Issei-kun, get a grip!"
"Issei-senpai!"
"If only it were that simple."
The one who stopped Issei Hyoudou wasn't the words of those who saw him as a comrade. It was an emotionless voice from behind, accompanied by the creak of a wheelchair.
"…Is this really okay? Being in a place like this?"
"Our salvation for them is complete. Even if the plan falters now, that part is nearly done. If it's overturned, that's all we amounted to. Proof we were incompetent, piling up defeats."
There stood a crow-headed figure.
"I am Raum. One of Solomon's seventy-two Demon God Pillars from 'that side.' Thanks for looking after Gremory and Glasya-Labolas."
The crow-headed figure—no, Demon God—introduced himself. In the wheelchair he pushed sat a young girl with white hair in braids, appearing in her early teens.
"It's been a while, Isaiah."
The girl addressed Yuto Kiba. At the name "Isaiah" and her face, Yuto reacted sharply.
"Tosca…? Is that you, Tosca?"
"Yes, it's me."
The girl called Tosca answered joyfully, despite Yuto's disbelief.
"She's a survivor of the Holy Sword Project. Her Sacred Gear is a powerful barrier-type. During the experiments, it activated, rendering her untouchable by the researchers. She remained in a suspended state within the barrier for years, halting her growth. We took her into custody and succeeded in awakening her consciousness."
"'Custody,' huh? That's one way to put it. Using her as a hostage doesn't count as custody. It's just abduction."
"That's a misconception. I have no need to take hostages against you. I'm here for a final ultimatum. Or rather, Tosca is."
Raum exuded confidence. Everyone struggled to hide their irritation. Azazel materialized a spear of light with a click of his tongue.
"You think you've won?"
"Thinking we've won? Indeed, we haven't achieved victory yet. Our pinnacle remains distant."
The plan hasn't progressed halfway. They've identified the mastermind but haven't stopped him. The King of Magecraft's madness and the One God's malice endure.
"Our victory is uncertain, but you've already lost. It's not even a matter of decision. Your history—devils and fallen angels as races—has already ended."
To the Demon God Pillars, devils, fallen angels, and angels were never opponents. From the start, they were fuel or pests to exterminate, briefly reconsidered, but ultimately remained fuel and pests.
They weren't on the same playing field. Naturally, their conditions for victory and defeat didn't align.
"Thus, this is merely a notice and sentiment. Before the judgment, I present your sins, Sirzechs Lucifer."
"My sins? Is that why you oppose devils?"
"Not entirely correct, but not entirely wrong."
Raum nodded his crow head.
"The hallmark of the Gremory, 'affection.' You love your father, mother, sister, wife, son, peerage, and subjects. But this isn't the love of a king. It's fine for a noble, but as a king, it's utterly incompetent."
He wasn't a tyrant ravaging his nation. But loving his nation while misguiding its path makes him a foolish ruler—worse than a tyrant.
"We know many kings."
A Knight King who ceased to be human to protect his people's smiles.
A Hero King who saw humanity's potential and parted heaven and earth.
A Conqueror King who, despite endless strife, inspired admiration in his subjects.
An Executioner King who purged false nobility to protect his homeland.
A Sun King who, even parting with friends, reigned supreme until death.
A Guardian King who understood death yet chose struggle until his final moment.
And a King of Magecraft who, despite lacking human freedom and being cowardly at heart, cast everything aside.
"You have power. You have love. But yours isn't that of a 'king.'"
His power, though great, isn't beautiful. His love, though kind, isn't strong. He lacks a king's love, a king's strength.
His warped affection created a flawed prosperity riddled with holes. Half-hearted reforms only sowed seeds of destruction. If violence was all he could wield, he should've thoroughly shattered old ideologies. Instead, he was possessed by the illusion of peace.
Did you delude yourself that the civil war you won would be the last bloodshed for devils? Did you fantasize that only the old Satan bloodlines you ousted were blind to the devils' future?
Your love wasn't wrong. If only you were just a devil. If only you weren't a king.
"Sirzechs Lucifer."
A thing called a false and hypocritical Satan by all, unable even to be a tyrant, not even a devil.
"You should never have become a king."
Because of you, a foolish ruler, Issei Hyoudou was born.
Minutes before the Demon God Pillars' withdrawal and the incineration of the Underworld.
In the Vatican, the Archangel Michael had descended.
Among the Three Factions' leaders, only Michael skipped the World Mythology Summit. For two reasons: to advance God's revival and to address the man before him.
"Then, I leave it to you, Cardinal Vasco Strada."
"Yes, Michael-sama. I have received Durandal II."
Before Michael stood a white-haired giant, over two meters tall, clad in priestly vestments.
The former Durandal wielder, Cardinal Vasco Strada. The Church's weapon of violence, Heaven's outrage, the Vatican's Evil Killer, Mr. Durandal, the true devil. His many titles and vigor belying his eighty-seven years proved he was the pinnacle of humanity.
Michael descended to the Vatican to entrust him with a holy-demonic sword and a special holy sword crafted from past holy sword data. Ideally, it would've been handed over before the summit, but adjustments delayed it. Preparations for transfer to Japan were complete.
"…Still, it's a pity the Demon God Pillars stole Durandal. We planned for the warrior Xenovia to join Rias Gremory's peerage."
"I see. So that's why you left her and Durandal alone after learning of God's absence."
"Yes. By then, peace was already decided. But we couldn't publicize God's absence. It was a bitter decision."
"Yet she joined the Khaos Brigade, serving the Demon God Pillars. She was meant to be reborn as a devil, a bridge between devils and the Church post-peace. That's your thinking."
Michael found Vasco's tone odd, but a call interrupted. It was Gabriel, at the summit venue. Contact had ceased since their clash with the Demon God Pillars, causing slight panic.
"What's wrong, Gabriel? I'm sending Vasco Strada to you urgently—"
Michael's expression darkened instantly.
"…Understood, Gabriel. Return to Heaven for immediate treatment. Leave the venue's aftermath and information to Uriel and Raphael. I'll contact Azazel."
As he ended the call, Vasco inquired.
"Is something wrong?"
"The Demon God Pillars have withdrawn. It's unfortunate we didn't make it in time."
Michael shook his head, genuinely regretful.
"Gabriel is gravely injured and retreating. Uriel and Raphael's status is unknown, but as Great War survivors, they're likely fine."
"Yes, let's hope so."
"My apologies. You prepared to head to Japan, and I've wasted your effort."
But Vasco laughed heartily.
"No need for concern, Michael-sama. I never planned to go to Japan."
Before his words registered, a blade pierced Michael's chest.
"—What?"
Betrayal.
Michael couldn't process his situation. It was too far beyond his comprehension.
"Don't misunderstand."
The apostle before him said so. Surely this sword wouldn't take his life. The pain and breathlessness must be his imagination. His fading consciousness was just fatigue.
Doubting an apostle was an archangel's disgrace, Michael regretted.
If he betrayed them—Heaven and the Church—why didn't the other apostles stir? Their cold gazes must be a mistake.
"You were the ones who betrayed first."
Note:
Let's talk about a certain world.
Angels obeyed God and were burned by the apostles' lightning.
Devils followed God and were pierced by the hero's spear.
And fallen angels chose to return to God's grace, only to be torn apart by a false god's blade.
Next time: "Condemnation"
Why are you smiling?
***
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