Forgiveness

The tip of the enforcement sword was cold. Echaint had already drawn the Yin Iron curved blade in his right hand.

At this fatal moment, time seemed to stop.

A dreamlike bubble swelled in his mind, unfolding like a painted scroll.

In it, he saw many demons, grimy-faced and dressed in rags. They wore reddish-brown hooded robes in the style of angels and gathered around a circular pool.

The pool in his courtyard.

Standing at the center was an angel clothed entirely in white.

The filthy demons crowded around the angel. Their eyes were lowered, their faces bearing the same strange, sacred expression as they traced the cheap, counterfeit cross gesture he had once mocked over their chests.

The Fallen Angel Cult. Keir. Echaint found that he could not laugh.

They were praying.

Chanting:

"Primal Guardian. Spirit of Supreme Purity. First Fallen Angel."

"Return! Return to order! Lead us into order! Lead us into purity!"

"You shall break free of your shackles, become strong, and shine forth!"

"We shall call your name, and our spirits shall obey you!"

"Echaint is your name!"

Echaint closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. Turbulent waves surged through his heart.

Time began to flow again.

Yet he still felt as though everything had stopped.

Everything seemed to slow before his eyes:

The tip of Andras's sword pressed against his chest. His right claw gripped the hilt and pushed with all its strength, but the blade did not advance even an inch. Unable to overcome the resistance, the sword bent upward—

The crow-headed demon opened his crowlike beak, his scarlet tongue lashing through the air as he chattered noisily.

His eyeballs were no longer gray, and his feathers were no longer a gloomy dark blue. His purple-black chest, his wolfskin apron—everything facing Echaint had changed color.

Because it had all been illuminated.

Illuminated by the light of the Primal Guardian, the Spirit of Supreme Purity, the First Fallen Angel.

Illuminated by the light of Echaint Sinkardesto.

Bang!

Bang!

Echaint felt two sandbag-like things slam into him from either side behind him. One thorny thing bit into his waist, while another, large and flat, struck his back.

Then both were thrown back, while he remained completely unharmed.

He tilted his head and saw the two who had attacked him—lion-bodied Bile was rolling about in agony on the bridge of rotting flesh. Several of his teeth had fallen out, his mane had melted, and his tongue had been burned.

Amiladu clutched his arm as he collapsed in another corner of the bridge tunnel. His left wrist was bare, and that huge, rocklike fist was gone.

It had not vanished. It had landed a short distance away, split into three roughly equal pieces.

A crisp sound of metal snapping came from his chest. Two claws seized his shoulders viciously.

The crow was crying out. Screaming.

He turned and saw Andras's enlarged birdlike face. The demon captain's enforcement sword had shattered into a jumble of scrap fragments, falling between them. Holy light pierced his eyes, and the power of order had scorched his claws ash-black.

"Hell will never forgive you. Hell will never forgive you! Hell will never pardon you!"

Andras shrieked as he pressed his damaged claws against Echaint's throat. He wanted to strangle him. Echaint pushed his shoulder and heard a crack.

"AAAAAAAH, CAAAWCAAWCAAW!"

The stench from the crow's beak washed over him. The dark-blue feathers around that narrow bird face curled backward under the holy radiance, spitting white sparks. Yet he seemed not to feel it. His face twisted in four directions, his scarlet beak stretching open at an unbelievable angle—

He suddenly pecked at Echaint's eye.

Then he stopped.

His eyeball trembled, and his feathers began to turn gray.

Andras slowly lowered his head to look.

The Yin Iron curved blade was embedded in his chest and abdomen, its hilt held in Echaint's hand.

Black particles streamed and burst from the wound like fireworks.

"Yin Iron... you... you... you want to destroy me..."

A soul killed by true chaos could never be resurrected. Even an immortal demon was no exception.

Andras laboriously pointed at Echaint's face, as if marking an eternal nemesis. "You want to destroy me... shit... you really are..."

More and more black particles poured forth, forming a black torrent that gushed from Andras's wound. He was rapidly being hollowed out.

"You'll be crushed to pieces, buddy. Liar... traitor! You vicious, lowly piece of shit..."

The crow's awl-like voice echoed through the air.

Echaint said nothing.

Weathered-looking mottled marks began to creep over the crow's face. He shriveled, as though he might split apart along the cracks at any moment.

Andras's body jerked.

"You're finished," he said convulsively, as though trying to laugh. "You're finished. You're finished, Echaint."

"The King of Demons won't spare you. Chaos Hell won't forgive you. You're dead. Your soul will suffer the most terrible torment... Lord Beelzebub will come in person..."

He hiccupped and fell silent.

The light faded from Andras's gray eyes. His entire body seemed to have suddenly dried out, like a specimen.

Echaint raised a hand, wanting to support the demon captain by the elbow. His kin. A vicious, mean, stupid, dead kinsman.

The weathered marks deepened, and more cracks spread rapidly. The crow-headed demon split apart from within them.

Andras shattered into countless dry gray-blue and black fragments.

Yan Feng swept up the fragments and turned them into dust.

Echaint caught the Yin Iron curved blade as it fell without support and sheathed it at his waist.

"I forgive you," he heard himself murmur. Perhaps it was because of his angelic form.

After a brief pause.

His gaze fell into the bridge tunnel made of rotten flesh.

Lion-bodied Bile dragged himself across the ground, crawling unsteadily as growls spilled from his mouth. When he noticed Echaint's gaze, his entire body stiffened.

Amiladu clutched the place where his arm had been, his sturdy body unmoving. Only then did Echaint realize that the left side of his body, like solidified lava, had already been shattered to pieces.

He was not dead. His dim eyes were still looking at him.

Their gazes met.

"Duke," Amiladu said, his voice remarkably calm. "Did you betray us?"

Echaint shook his head, then nodded.

Amiladu gave a weak smile. "Duke, are you really an angel spy?"

Echaint shook his head.

Relief appeared on the low-ranking demon's face.

"Leave quickly, Duke." After a second's pause, Amiladu said, "The flies being used as eyes have already flown back to their master. The King of Demons will be here soon. She should be roaring by now."

He frowned and corrected himself. "She is already roaring."

Echaint heard it too: the Hell Broadcast mixed with countless buzzing sounds. But this time, the voice was very faint, almost inaudible.

He looked around, but nothing was forming words.

"You can come with me," he said to Amiladu.

Bile's eyes turned beast-red. At those words, he stared murderously at Amiladu.

"It'll be safe," Echaint added.

Amiladu gently shook his head. "I'm on Hell's side. Forever."

All right. What a pity.

I think I'm on the side of knowledge in the universe.

He flew back to Nese, who was standing there in a daze. The warlock looked somewhat disheveled. Echaint did not know whether he had helped in the fight just now, but at least he had seen the energy of order and warned him immediately.

"Villed."

"Hm?"

"Let's go."

"Duke," Amiladu called again.

"What?"

Amiladu blinked. "It was an honor to learn so much from you. I like words."

Echaint paused. "I'm glad."

Then he spread his pure white angel wings and flew toward home.

His student and dog followed after him.

Hell's foul wind lifted his wings.

He heard a demon trying hard to soften his rough voice—

Softly reciting that thirteen-line poem:

"If you can say, I, this ignorant child,"

"You shall settle my account and forgive my stubbornness."

"Your bloodline has inherited his beauty."

"This will make you grow again at the end of time."

"And bring warmth back to your cold blood."