Private Channel

An invisible force seized the front of his clothes and shoved against his back.

The invisible force directly removed all the air between them, sending him springing toward Beelzebub like a released rubber band.

The translucent white bubble tore apart and swiftly wilted away—Ichaint had reacted quickly enough. At top speed, he withdrew the energy within it and rewove it into a thick white cylinder barely the size of two palms laid side by side. He reinforced it with the laws and held it before his chest.

At the same time, he tried to blink away.

But he could not.

Because the command was "Come."

In an instant.

The white light turned into white powder, then dull powder, and finally the powder collapsed.

A sudden flare.

A sudden darkness.

The sound of shattering.

Cool blood surged up, bubbling in his throat.

Four thin, long spikes, sharp as poisoned drills, extended from the Demon King's chest and pierced through the Order Shield.

Crack—

Then they pierced through his chest and protruded from his back.

Beelzebub stretched out all six arms and gripped him tightly.

Her two large, pale owl-like eyes were nearly pressed against his.

Her brow bone pressed against his, and tiny sparks leaping from her eye sockets danced into his eyes. Those eyes blinked slowly, like midnight tides rising and falling.

"Buzz."

Her four slender lower limbs coiled around Ichaint's waist and the backs of his knees, while her two forelimbs embraced his neck. The spikes from her chest impaled his torso, and her wings curled around him, wrapping his whole body in a netted cocoon.

She still had one hand free to stroke his hair.

Like a lion licking an antelope it had just bitten to death, she rubbed her smooth forehead against his. Her fuzz pricked into his hair, making it itch.

"Dear. Dear, buzz."

Ichaint's silver blood covered Beelzebub's entire chest and abdomen.

She sighed with a buzzing sound and pressed his head against her neck.

Strength flowed away through his wounds.

Ichaint did not move.

I have to do the right thing. The First Fallen Angel's little interruption had helped him resist the suppression of rank, but it had completely disrupted the rhythm of his original plan.

It did not matter. Mistakes were permissible, but he had to do the right thing.

He just needed luck.

Beelzebub held him tight and spoke softly.

"I know this is not easy for you. Listen to me first. Those idiots have been praying in Hell for so many years. I know the First Fallen Angel very well. Do you know? I'm sick of hearing it all. His energy, his light—all that they talk about. I already know it. Look, buzz."

Suddenly, everything plunged into absolute darkness again.

Beelzebub's deep crimson eyes vanished from before him, but he knew she was still there. Not a single sensation across his body had disappeared.

In the darkness, Beelzebub used two fingers to part the feathers on his white wings. From the place closest to his skin, she snapped off a piece with a crack and held it before her face.

She illuminated the object alone—solidified energy of order, like a chunk of gray-white limestone.

The Demon Queen's tiny claw gave it a light squeeze, then opened.

That piece of order energy had been crushed into powder. She stared absently as the fragments scattered like the most ordinary sand.

She turned back and blinked very slowly.

"I can fix your light in place. My dear. I know you are no longer a demon, and I cannot suppress you. But I can fix you in place. That is power."

She made a soft, delicate whimpering sound. "I have transformed far more times than you. What a pity. You could have agreed to me. I gave you so, so, so, so many chances. Buzz."

Blood surged up, and he spat it onto her neck without ceremony.

Beelzebub tilted her head and rubbed it stickily against his.

"I know you are very clever. My dear. There is no demon in all Chaos Hell cleverer than you. And you are so generous, so magnanimous, so different from everyone else."

Ichaint shifted subtly. The spikes sank deeper into his chest.

He stopped moving his torso. At the same time, one hand reached for the knife at his waist, while translucent pale-blue tentacles began spreading from his other palm.

In an instant, Beelzebub seized both his hands.

She still had four arms left to hold him.

The pale-blue tentacles froze, likewise turning into useless sand and scattering away. Beelzebub summoned tangible darkness and squeezed them together.

He could not move.

He knew what energy she was using. The power of disorder—nothing special.

But Beelzebub's power of disorder was almost equivalent to half of all the energy Chaos Hell could mobilize. It was effectively infinite.

She was so relaxed that she seemed not even to notice she had stopped an attack, merely continuing to complain.

"I worshipped you so much, buzz. Why did you leave me, buzz? Why are you so stingy with me, buzz?"

Ichaint did not answer. There was simply no answer to give.

Besides, Beelzebub's claws had sunk into the joints of his wrists.

"Ichaint Ichaint Ichaint Ichaint Ichaint, buzz. You always make me very angry. Very angry. Buzz."

"If you mean my current state, it was an accident..."

"That is not what I mean, buzz!"

Oh.

Beelzebub was genuinely irritated now. Her buzzing abruptly became as heavy as muffled thunder.

"Why, buzz?" Her claw tips sliced open his skin.

"You used to be so kind... You were so kind to everyone... We have known each other for so long... Why did you suddenly start avoiding me, buzz? Why would you rather torment each other with those idiots for sixteen hundred years than bathe with me, buzz? Why would you not become my grand duke, buzz? Why do you not participate even in Hell's most important affairs, buzz? Why do you not even want to be a demon anymore, buzz? Why did you leave me, buzz?"

She suddenly seized his collar. All fourteen eyes burst into flame at once, scorching his cheeks. "No one can leave me, buzz! No one can leave me, buzz!"

He could not feel pain in his chest, but it was unbearably tight. He coughed twice.

"Do you want to speak? My dear. Yes. You have something to report to me."

Like a spider spinning a cocoon, Beelzebub wrapped him tightly, face to face with him. She blinked. "Go on."

His throat was dry, perhaps from excessive blood loss.

He swallowed at saliva that was not there. "Respected Demon King..."

"You are not allowed to call me that again, buzz!! I will set your soul on fire!!"

Beelzebub rudely cut him off.

Her six claws groped wildly over his body, searching. "Hm? Where is your anchor? You actually do not carry your anchor with you? Who did you give it to? It is fine, I will definitely find it, buzz..."

Ichaint slowly exhaled.

"Bezelya."

Beelzebub slammed her head into his forehead and stayed pressed against him.

Ten million voices buzzed with sweet laughter.

The vibrations of her laughter shook him along with her. His wounds rubbed against the spikes, making strange wet sounds.

"You still remember my name from before I ascended!!"

She was happy, but only for an instant. The next moment, she flew into a rage again. The pads on her six arms pressed against his back, nearly embedding him in her embrace and smothering him to death.

"No. Your memory is too good. You remember everything, buzz!! That is only right, buzz!!"

This was something Ichaint could not understand.

She had guessed correctly, yet she became angry because of it.

"Listen to me. The Apocalypse War is very likely not what everyone thinks it is." Ichaint closed his eyes and remained still, pushing away the distractions as he organized his thoughts. "Alexander knows something is wrong, and not only that..."

"What does he know, buzz! I will burn him into charcoal and boil him into slime! How dare he hinder the progress of the great undertaking! We will burn every corner of the world and build a new Final Hell atop the ruins! He will be a tiny spark before eternal darkness! A tiny spark! Buzz!"

A tiny spark. Buzz. Beelzebub's reaction was exactly what he had expected. Buzz.

"Bezelya..."

He slowly let out a breath.

"I'm here," she whispered.

"The Source of Order initiated the War of Dawn. Don't you think that is too much of a coincidence? There are secrets behind the Child of the Plane as well. Stop your army..."

Once again, Beelzebub flew into a rage in an instant.

"So what? He is only the little key that opens the gate for us! The road will surely be clear, and we will surely prevail!! Whoever stands before us will become ashes upon a grave mound, buzz!"

There would most likely not even be a grave mound. There might not even be ashes left. Of that, Ichaint was certain.

"Delay the departure. I need to investigate."

He finally felt terribly weak and brought the conversation to a brief halt.

He had done everything he could.

He had said everything that needed to be said.

He had already told her every point of suspicion and the best way to resolve them. If he could have time to unravel the mysteries behind the Apocalypse War and the War of Dawn, perhaps he could end all his troubles at once:

No plane would again rush to destroy every world beyond itself. Countless civilizations containing endless mysteries and treasures of knowledge could be preserved.

If the Apocalypse War could be dissolved, then he would not be forced to take part in it either.

He could return to his former life. He still had many subjects left to research. Many people were waiting for his guidance, many mysteries waiting for him to uncover. He still had papers waiting to be published... Papers would not publish themselves. That was simply how it was.

In truth, he thought it was an elegantly simple idea. The world would lose nothing but one or several foolish legends, and he could afford to work a little harder for that.

Beelzebub's fourteen white eyes swirled with deep vortices as they watched him.

Ichaint knew all too well what that meant.

Bezelya would never change.

As it happened, neither would he.

"Oh. Dear. Dear. Dear. I know you. I know you, buzz. You refuse to go conquer them with me. Nothing I say will matter."

The Demon Queen's voice was incomparably gentle. The other larvae fell silent, and in the boundless darkness, hers was the only whisper.

The entire world seemed to contain nothing but this small patch of cruelty and noise.

"I have to kill you. My dear. You have thrown my heart into chaos. You must die for a while first. I will come guide your soul across. I will wait for you in the one and only Final Hell in the entire universe. You will hear my private broadcast."

She gently stroked his back—and avoided the mangled, bloodied places she had pierced through.

"I truly cannot bear to part with you. I am truly sad. Buzz."

Her tone was full of helplessness as she repeated herself over and over.

The Demon King repeated it for a while.

Then she hugged him hard and raised her voice. "Command—"

"Miracle."

Ichaint said weakly but clearly.

At the last moment, he saw those owl-like eyes fill with panic.

Of course, a miracle happened. For an angel.

Beelzebub's arms were pulled away from him by an irresistible force, and the spikes in her chest withdrew from the front.

Thick darkness lifted him up, and he lost consciousness.