He was here.
He walked up to the desk, that daunting smile fixed in place.
"Hey there, little lamb."
My skin crawled. This was nothing like facing Satire.
Even though she was stronger, even though I had wanted to kill her, I could face her.
This… this was different.
My bloodlust shrank back into fear. My power cowered in defeat.
My eyes almost bled from terror, and I forced my gaze to stay forward even as it wavered at the edges, as if the world itself hummed beneath my skin.
"What brings you here?" I asked.
I tried to remain upright, but a thin tremor betrayed me, skimming across my voice.
He leaned back casually, shoulders loose, and turned his gaze to Mirabel with a faint tilt of amusement.
"I've come to deliver my notes on demons, as you requested?"
I blinked, a beat too slow, disoriented, pulled taut like a fraying string. I had forgotten. I had asked him long ago.
Fate, it seemed, had rearranged the threads.
He should have arrived only when Anstalionah faced the great demon attack, when destruction was imminent.
Something had changed. Something monumental.
"I see… I have poor memory. You must forgive me," I said, glancing toward Mirabel.
She didn't meet my eyes.
Her shoulders stiffened, and something flickered across her face, unease, maybe fear, maybe guilt.
She looked bothered, deeply so, as if she had seen or felt something I had missed.
"I'll leave you two. I need to get going."
She didn't even give me a chance to wave.
That woman aimed to kill me. Or maybe she just didn't want to be in the same room as him.
Meanwhile, Griffin stood there with eyes distant and lonely, yet filled with a terrifying, unimaginable might.
His gaze slid over me, slow, deliberate, like brushing the edge of a blade across my throat.
For a heartbeat I wondered if he could see the way my fingers trembled before I curled them in my sleeves.
"I have many fears, Nicholas," he said softly. His tone was gentle in a way that felt wrong. "It seems you've changed… and you reek of time."
He said it lightly, but his eyes narrowed as he examined me, almost clinically.
He caught the micro‑flinch I tried to swallow. He did nothing.
I rose, bracing myself, the movement strained and uneven, like my body had forgotten how to hold itself together.
"As you know… I have an ability called Dark Alter. I used it to manipulate the laws of this world… to peer through time."
He paused, considering. A small hum vibrated in his throat, a thoughtful sound at odds with the weight behind his eyes.
"Satire came to me with a most… wonderful discovery. You had changed."
His hand fell onto my chest, cool and heavy, as if gravity bent toward him.
"I can feel your heart beating. Tell me… did I plunge my blade through it?"
I held my breath. Then I stopped my heart entirely.
A reflex. A mistake. My vision flickered for half a second, the world wavering like a broken film reel.
He noticed. His gaze sharpened for an instant, curiosity, amusement, but he let it pass.
Griffin laughed, a soft, melodic sound that somehow made the room colder.
"I'm kidding. I don't think I could ever kill you… not now."
He removed his hand. I felt a pleasure which frightened me, fade away.
"God is merciful, allowing us to alter His will so liberally."
All that is, are born from the will of greater things, monads, perhaps fragments of God's creation.
They are extensions of His intent. Regalias are linked to these forces, channeling their power directly.
Memories, particles of information transcending time and space, shape them.
These particles were called logicae, the second part of the systematic reality.
Yet to alter these laws is also to disobey God, a truth whispered among the few priests who refrain from using Regalia at all.
"He is good," Griffin said, laughing. "So good to allow such things to occur in His world. Creatures… monsters… all of it."
He laughed again, the sound vibrating through my ribs, and my breath caught. My pulse stuttered twice.
"Yes… monsters. Is there one on your back, little lamb?"
The sword. Cradella had given it to me. One of her children. Or rather, the will of one of her children bound in steel.
I lowered my gaze. "I wish to become stronger than all monsters."
I lifted my eyes and forced myself not to blink. "Don't you?"
He stared for a long moment, then slowly grinned, amused by something silent and unspoken.
"I already am."
Arrogance. Pride. Hubris. Earned from a power that should not exist in this world.
"So go forth, St. Griffin. Go out and slaughter all the monsters of this world!"
He shook his head, lips curling into a frown of mild irritation.
"Then I would have to start with humanity."
His cheeks flushed with something like delight, a feverish glow beneath the skin.
"Ah… humanity. Its flaws, its sins. I love them, for it is through them that I grow."
He looked down at me, his grin widening, stretching too easily, too beautifully.
"Do you not love humanity? Do you not love me? Do you not love yourself?"
I swallowed. Hard. My throat burned with every motion, my breath snagging halfway out.
"Who could love a monster?"
His eyes spiraled, impossibly deep, like looking down into the throat of creation.
"God."
Griffin's Regalia was known throughout the world. He was praised for it, and it was the reason he was the strongest.
His Regalia was called The Oasis.
It was the ability to create an oasis not only around his general area, but around the entire world.
As such, anything regarding him could be brought about as a miracle.
It was the ability to bring about miracles in order to aid his efforts.
Thus, the world gave him a name.
"God's Favorite. How do you like that name?" I asked softly.
He sighed, visibly annoyed, the sound sharp and weary.
"It is an insult to me, and to God, for He has no favorites. And I cannot be favored."
His hands tightened. Then released.
Papers scattered across the desk, appearing and then ordering themselves neatly, like obedient servants.
"The information on demons, and even Devils. Do well to study, little lamb."
He smiled and bowed, then left, leaving me shivering from his glory, from his might, from something else I could not name without breaking further.
The door shut.
And I fell to my knees.
Blood spilled from my mouth before I even felt it. Thick, dark, black blood pooling on the floor.
My heart burned. Again. Again. Again.
I clutched my neck, trying to hold back tears, but they pricked hot beneath my eyes.
Simply standing before him forced me to relive that moment. My death. My true death. So vividly.
And it was just as painful, if not worse, than the trial.
Cradella shielded me from the absolute worst. Griffin did not. He could not. It was a side effect.
A side effect of being so monstrously strong.
I fell back, staring at the door. Waiting. Waiting far too long for him to return.
Waiting for him to come back and slaughter me like a mutt. Like a lamb.
I was a lamb waiting. No… I was begging to be slaughtered.
[Nicholas was right to show these emotions now. Because he must never show them again.]