As time passed, night gradually fell.
Watching Shana speak solemnly to the air in front of her, Flame Demon remained silent.
The stigmata could not be faked. She had indeed received a gift from the Lord earlier, but he could not understand why she alone had received the calling.
Unlike Shana, he was a true angel.
Although he had merely been an unremarkable Seraph in the angelic legions of old, he had endured through an unimaginably long passage of time. Of all the angels still alive today, only he remained.
At the beginning of God's Genesis, angels had been born in the Heavenly Kingdom. They possessed immense power and ageless, immortal lives from birth. But in the Ancestral Realm, where all mystery had been cut off, their power had been steadily worn away over the long years, and even their ageless lives had gradually succumbed to aging.
For the Lord's revival, the angels had devoted themselves to establishing religions and spreading faith. One after another, they emerged from the secret realms that had been sufficient to shelter them.
At the start, Flame Demon remembered that his angel squad had numbered several hundred. But now, every angel aside from him had died of old age.
He should have followed in the footsteps of those Seniors, awaiting the end of his life with his decrepit body in a dark sewer. But as though it were some kind of joke, Anomalies invaded this world once more.
The Ancestral Realm, which allowed no mysterious existence, embraced mystery again. Thus, he was reborn from death. Filled with joy, he had waited devoutly for the Lord's revival and descent once more, only to be greeted by an imposter.
No matter how unwilling he was to admit it, the other party had indeed seized the Lord's authority.