Iver remained silent, looking up at Lucifer.
He was so tall that he even reminded Iver of how it had felt to face the Giant King long ago.
Thinking back on it now, perhaps giants became so enormous... because of that trace of bloodline left behind by Supreme Heaven.
When Supreme Heaven was still the King of Winged Ones, he must have been just as tall...
"...I'm different from him."
Iver drew a deep breath. He wanted to speak with a stronger bearing and more forceful words, but in the end, all that came out was a pale, ashen whisper: "Don't lump us together."
It was completely different from the righteous, ringing declaration he had made to Cardinal Galatea earlier: "I'm not a snake."
For some reason, when facing Lucifer, Iver felt inexplicably guilty. It was as though he had truly done something wrong, or perhaps as though that pure, childlike gaze had wounded his conscience.
Rather than an angry warning, Iver's words sounded more like a powerless defense: "I don't remember anything... I'm only the discarded remnants."
It was the hesitation of someone who seemed to truly owe him something.
It was as though he had done something unforgivable to him in the past, and that shame and remorse had been carved deep into his heart. Now, the years had passed, and he had long forgotten the events and people of that time, yet he still faintly remembered that sense of indebtedness.
But he really didn't know him!
"I'm usually telling the truth."
Iver said seriously, "And I've never harbored any ill will toward others."
"The snake was the same," Lucifer replied without hesitation. "When the snake deceived people, he always told the truth.
"Every sentence he spoke was true when taken on its own—isn't that the kind of