What should I do next? Not much different from usual.
Training and meditation.
And, somehow, exchanging messages with friends who—technically—are the heroines of this world.
Honestly, I never expected things to reach this point myself.
I don't reject anyone.
Whether it's the main character whose level of lewdness has already reached the stage of a chronic disease—whose obsession with women's chests is beyond saving. Sometimes I even wonder, does the author see a pair of breasts as some kind of lemniscate symbol?
But that's just a spectator's complaint.
In this real world, things are different.
I don't have any personal issues with Issei, or with anyone else. Even when I get annoyed, it's purely from my perspective as a reader or viewer. Now that I'm living inside his world, the only logical choice is to play it safe.
Being close to the heroines sometimes makes the main character jealous—that does happen.
But so far, the canon storyline is still progressing as it should.
Safe… for now.
Because I know full well that my involvement will sooner or later change many things. Once a single knot shifts, the entire flow can collapse, and when that happens—I won't be able to predict what comes next.
The meeting of the three races will take place soon.
According to my calculations, three days from now.
And up until now, I haven't received any quests directly related to that major event. Usually, when the system is silent, it means the situation is still relatively safe.
But I'm not foolish enough to let my guard down.
The Tower's system often delivers quests at the very last second, right before a major incident explodes—when it's already too late to retreat.
Because of that, I stay prepared.
The next enemy will most likely be Vali, or the executives of the Chaos Brigade.
Or Ophis might show up again.
Too many variables.
But I don't dwell on it too much.
With my current strength, I'm fairly confident I can deal with whatever appears. Not perfectly, not absolutely—but enough.
Enough to survive.
I let out a soft breath.
Simple optimism like that is, for now, more than enough.
And just as that thought crossed my mind—
My phone rang.
I was sitting casually on the porch of my camp, a cup of warm tea in hand, when the screen lit up.
"Hm?"
Akeno: Where are you?
I glanced at the screen for a moment before replying.
Me: Relaxing at my camp. Why?
It didn't take long for the next reply to arrive.
Akeno: Can we meet?
I paused slightly, then smiled faintly.
Me: Yeah, I can. Where?
A few seconds passed.
Akeno: Come to the shrine.
The shrine.
I stared at my phone screen a little longer than usual. No additional explanation, no emoticons, no playful tone.
Just a short invitation.
Me: Alright.
I stood up, slipped my phone into my pocket, and looked at the forest surrounding the camp.
It seems this calm… is about to end.
...
A conference between the three major races of a single Western mythology is something that rarely happens.
In their long history, such a meeting has truly been recorded only once—
when devils, angels, and fallen angels were forced to cooperate for the same goal.
Defeating the two Heavenly Dragons.
Those two beings were eventually defeated and sealed, their existences forced into the form of Sacred Gears now known to the world. But that cooperation was nothing more than a brief pause in a cycle of hatred.
After the threat disappeared, the three races returned to what they did best.
Waging war against one another.
Until, at last, the final great war took too much away.
God fell. The four great Devil Kings also perished.
The world entered a strange phase— not peace, but not open war either.
A cold war.
While the upper world and the heavens watched each other in silence, the underworld instead plunged into civil war.
A conflict between the Old Devil faction and the New Devil faction.
The old devils, still clinging to concepts of honor and the instinct for battle, wanted one thing:
A decisive, final war.
Whether for pride, or simply because they didn't know how to live without war.
In contrast, the new devils—who had witnessed the horrific consequences of prolonged conflict—sought the continuation of their race. The number of devils kept declining. Every war only hastened their own extinction.
n the end, the outcome was already clear.
The Old Devil Faction lost.
But that victory left wounds far deeper.
The four thrones of the Great Devil Kings were no longer occupied by the descendants of the original Devil Kings.
Instead, those positions were taken by devils from the 72 Pillar Clans.
They were—
Sirzechs Lucifer of the Gremory Clan.
Serafall Leviathan of the Sitri Clan.
Ajuka Beelzebub of the Astaroth Clan.
Falbium Asmodeus of the Glasya-Labolas Clan.
They came to be known as The New Satans.
The new rulers of the Underworld—not because of pure Devil King blood… but because of their abilities and vision.
For the Underworld as a whole, this was an era of stability.
But for certain parties—especially the surviving descendants of the original Devil Kings—it was an insult that could not be accepted.
In their eyes, those thrones should have belonged to them. Not to those who stood below them in hierarchy.
That anger never truly faded. It merely waited for the right stage.
And that three-race conference… was that stage.
It was there that chaos would begin to surface. It was also where the world would be introduced to a group that operated from the shadows—
Khaos Brigade.
A group led by the Infinite Dragon, Ophis.
That conference would also become a moment of betrayal.
The moment when Vali left the Fallen Angel faction and revealed the truth about himself.
An existence that should have been impossible.
A half-human, half-devil. The wielder of the Vanishing Dragon, Albion. And most absurd of all—
a direct descendant of the original Devil King Lucifer.
An existence that defied logic, history, and the system of the world itself.
That truth shocked almost everyone present.
Almost.
Because there was one figure who, from the very beginning, already knew everything.
Azazel.
And when the curtain of that conference was finally lifted, everything was already moving precisely toward the ending he desired.
Even Kokabiel's plan—his reckless attempt to ignite a new war—was not something outside Azazel's calculations. Azazel could have stopped Kokabiel at any time he wished. Their power levels were on completely different planes; to Azazel, Kokabiel was nothing more than an overly noisy pawn.
Yet he chose to let him act freely.
Not out of ignorance or negligence.
But because it was necessary.
Azazel possessed an intelligence network that spanned nearly the entire world. The movements of major factions, dangerous artifacts, even the birth of high-tier Sacred Gears—everything was under his surveillance. There was no way Kokabiel could have gone that far without his knowledge.
And yet, he pretended to be blind.
All for a single objective: the three-race conference.
To gather representatives of devils, angels, and fallen angels in one place required a sufficiently powerful reason. An ordinary threat would not suffice. Ancient tensions and centuries-old grudges could not be united by a mere formal invitation.
So Azazel created that reason.
When the three sides finally assembled, Azazel proposed one thing—peace.
But he understood perfectly well that such a decision could not be accepted outright. It required time, pressure, and a catalyst that would force all parties to face reality.
And that was where Vali's betrayal played its role.
Then came the revelation of a new enemy—a powerful force moving from the shadows, rejecting both the old and the new order alike.
Khaos Brigade.
Backed by power that made no sense.
Led by an entity whose name even the Devil Kings were reluctant to speak.
In such a situation, the choices of the three races narrowed.
To wage war against one another meant mutual destruction. The only remaining path was—cooperation.
And that was how peace was finally achieved.
Not because of trust or goodwill.
But because there was no other choice.
All of it was the result of one person's plan.
Azazel.
A figure who, in the eyes of many, appeared to be nothing more than an eccentric old man, a mad scientist obsessed with Sacred Gears. Yet behind that relaxed demeanor lay a being of extraordinary intelligence—often said to be the smartest after God.
And more than that…
He was also the most cunning in all of Biblical mythology.
He did not force the world to follow his will. Azazel merely arranged circumstances in such a way that the world had no choice but to move according to his plan.
Without many realizing it, the curtain had already been drawn. The chessboard had been set.
And the pieces… had begun to move.
//--//
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