621. The Angel of Pride

621. The Angel of Pride

“PRINCESS!” Frost roared the moment the vision disappeared, thrusting them back into the pale chamber that gradually began to turn to a gradient of black.

“H-HUH!? Yes!? W-What’s wrong so suddenly!?”

“Your mother – Was she an Angel!?”

Fear instantly gripped the girl.

“Y-You… Don’t have to know about that –!”

“Do you know how important that is to me!? If your mother was an Angel… Then what are you!?”

“I-I’m… human! I’m nothing special! I’m not dirty! I’m… I’m…!”

The girl trembled uncontrollably as she tried to thrash her way out of Frost’s grip.

“NEITHER AM I!” Frost roared.

It calmed the girl almost immediately, her eyes intently staring at the back of Frost’s head.

“And I’m still trying to figure out just what the hell I am! There’s no way in hell that I’m going to hurt you just because you’re not human!”

“… I’m sorry –!”

“VOICE! Got an explanation for me!?”

“Then… THEN DOESN’T THAT MEAN ISCARIO IS THE SAME!?”

Only now did his pale hair make sense to her.

The reason why Iscario and even the Father of the Asclepieion had what hair was because they were not human despite what the Blessing said.

They were half Angels.

“Mixed blood – So the reason why the Red Wing wanted to get rid of you was because you’re a Nephilim!?”

“I’m H-Human… Please don’t call me that –!”

“You’re human! Dammit. Princess… You need to start trusting me! Because I’m the only one who knows exactly what you’re going through! You and I are so much closer than you can possibly imagine!”

Enormous obsidian pillars rose to the skies.

A thick, dark fog snuffed out the light as they were plunged into an eternal night. The only source of light was the Genesis Stone far ahead. A dangerous chill ran down Frost’s spine as she recalled this exact place.

And what that light once represented.

“Why are we… This is… The Black Forest…?”

Black trees sprouted from the ground. They were burned and thousands of tiny branches jutted out like a giant, dead daffodil. One larger branch hung like the illicium of an Angler fish. The branch at the end formed a noose where a sole, golden eye peered back from the other side like a false fruit, beckoning one to reach in.

Relinquished Consanguinity

Acedia

AFFINITY : Despair

LEVEL : 120

ORIGIN : Sin

HP : 90,000

ATT : 9,000

MAG ATT : 9,000

ATT DEF : 0

MAG DEF : 0

MP : 0

RESIST : 0

AGI : 70

Frost didn’t know who this Angel was just yet.

No.

Frost’s gums bled as she grated her teeth, her eyes widening like moons.

It can’t be… This person… This Angel… I can’t believe it… Not yet. Please…

She already knew but she did not want to admit it until she had more proof. For now, she burned the Relinquished Consanguinities down, alongside ever-sprouting Vexed variants.

“Someone, please tell me I’m wrong.”

Pale snow began to fall from somewhere far away.

And Frost lost herself in a trance, her eyes moist with disbelief.

Her entire world seemed like it was just a dream.

“I have to be wrong, right?

… Right?

That… that…”

Frost, in her unending shock, screamed out at the top of her lungs at the first sighting of a pale Marker.

“MICHAELAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

“Blood is sacred! What of your children!? They’d be no better than Caina and her vagrants you exiled from Paradisio! You dare soil your blood!? Your blood that I – and all that is sacred – with man!? Michaela… You… Are still the same. Your pride will be the end of you. You would rather die than to let me cleanse your filthy kin!”

The Red Wing squawked.

There was no memory to accompany it this time.

Only her voice echoed within the darkness.

“… This world has poisoned you. You cast it all away. You were once a Star the world revered. A Star they feared. You built pillars… Flowers… A garden! Eden for us all! You lent no hand in the War for the Advent of Amalgamation!

Ah… Aha… So you’re not going to say anything after all… Michaela. Why? We could have destroyed Elysia for good had we captured it.

A Sister I called further shares her womb with the world. It created a thing with no legs. But the virtue of our blood elevated it into a Beholder. Not you too, Michaela… I trusted you. You’re my creator! My blood comes from you! From your Forest! From all that is pale! Have I not bled enough for you!?

… So it’s consumed you too then? As with us all. Pride had finally killed you for good.

Then so be it.

If your garden is built on contradictions and impurities, and teachings you will abandon for this wretched, impure world named after that traitor – then we will break off from the flowers of your garden!

Like the thorns of a rose, we’ll tarnish your garden.

Trim us as you may.

We shall be the broken thorns of your promised Paradise.