The Requiem Of An Empress 11 Mien: 思兼 「Omoikane」

"Now that you say it."

"Utter bullsh*t!"

Sarakiel gripped his sword awfully tight that he would've dug through the metal hilt if it wasn't for the material's prime durability. Après that sententious display of irateness, the knight channelled a glower, brimful of execration, towards the immotile Demon n.o.bles. It was perspicuous that Duke Helian was spiteful of being disgraced. His resolve was mocked the moment he discerned that his opponents were undeserving.

On the other hand, Mikhail's impression on the matter differed from that of Sarakiel's. Perchance, it was because Percival adheres to a peculiar idealogy. Initially, he reckoned that his aide was spouting ludicrous statements to rile him up. Withal, after a trice of poring over the things he found quaint, the man realized that Sarakiel's deduction fairly clarifies the bizarre happenings.

"In our brief match, Malphas never attacked first. It showed signs of movements when I waltz in a barrier, sort of, surrounding it. I guess a couple of meters is its range of awareness. What's more, that Demon n.o.ble was incessantly trembling and I couldn't fathom, for f*ck's sake, the reason until I deliberated on it. At present, I know that it's residual fear."

"Another group had inflicted them this much damage before we got here.", Sarakiel begrudgingly said, still seething.

Mikhail's interest was kindled by the ent.i.ties powerful enough to subdue two Demon n.o.bles at once. Nevertheless, extinguis.h.i.+ng that fire was the least of his current priorities.

"I understand why you're upset, Sarakiel. Even so, I swore to Khamael that I'd defeat those n.o.bles. I don't care if my pride as a knight will be tarnished. I'll make that come into fruition whether I perish, or don't, in the process. These demons are not at the level where we could leisurely fight them at full strength and emerge as victors."

The Duke dropped his head in declination, refusing to abase his ego. It is graspable for Sarakiel Helian to act unrelenting regarding this topic, since he grew up in a revered ducal household; in contrast to Mikhail Percival who came from a dubious background. They are bound to have dissimilar views, that's an absolute.

"I always remind the Rounds that only the stronger side has the liberty of mercy. However..."

Mikhail closed in on Sarakiel and gripped his shoulders, firmly.

"Right now, we are the weaker party. We have to take advantage of their weakness.", the knight captain stated as he lowered his hands. He proceeded to put a bit of distance between them to allow his subordinate to ponder by himself, absent the pressure.

Merely seconds had pa.s.sed when Sarakiel raised his head, wearing a new resolution on his countenance.

"My Lord, I apologize for losing track of my duties. I will heed your advice."

"Out of the two of us, I should be the one apologizing for being so brash. I'm just glad that you are apprehensive of the logical thing to do." albeit sporting a poker face, it was evident that Mikhail's stress was moderately alleviated.

"What's our plan of action?"

"I urge you to appraise the scroll that the wretched b I mean, the Emperor provided you. If it won't cause you any harm, then you can use it; otherwise, throw it back at him."

"Didn't you say that we won't follow through with his Majesty's scheme?"

"That declaration is exclusive to us siblings. Do not inhibit your chance for progression."

"Bu-"

"No more disagreement. I am your Commander, listen to me."

Sarakiel could only heave a sigh upon hearing the coercive persuasion of Mikhail.

'Where did his compa.s.sion go?!' Although he wanted to whine, Duke Helian conformed to his captain's wishes. He first buried le Blanc, upright and halfway, on the dry earth in front of him. He then revealed the scroll that was hidden in his pocket; a rolled parchment, with the hue of the same blue reflected on the petals of a False Indigo, fastened by a brown string. Mikhail retreated in the woods to not serve as an obstruction to what might come out.

'Let us see. The instruction was to create a five-tier magic circle prior to casting the pa.s.sage on its perimeter. The caster must stand in the centre of the circle and feed it with their blood to claim owners.h.i.+p. How troublesome, this spell is animate. One slip and it will devour me without hesitation.'

Sarakiel sharply drew in a lot of air then he shut his eyes to adeptly concentrate. The knight initiated the ma.s.s acc.u.mulation of mana in his body, which will prove to be the most difficult part considering the deficit of mana in the island.

Following the arduous stretch of gathering, he began to manipulate the strings of mana to sketch the outermost circle, spanning to a diameter of nearly thirty meters, on the ground. The circ.u.mference of the circles will decrease by a sixth of the preceding one as they unfold. Once the wreath of magic was done, Sarakiel untied the knot and lifted the scroll in front of him.

"Profero"

The scroll hovered mid-air while it straightened itself, uncovering its contents for the caster to read.

"psalmus David Domine clamavi ad te exaudi me intende voci meae c.u.m clamavero ad te"

Letters that formed words, producing verses as they connect, were being scribbled in the blank s.p.a.ces of the magic circle by the streaks of yellow light coming out of Sarakiel's fingertips. When the writing of the scripture concluded, he sauntered towards the core where the volume of energy was densest.

Using the tip of the pocket-sized jagged blade he concealed in his left sleeve, he p.r.i.c.ked his thumb and let ichor come out of the tiny hole.

"Descendere, Ierathel."

As soon as a drop of his blood touched the dirt, an incandescent flare enshrouded the setting and violent winds erupted from the vicinity of the magic circle. Visibility was obsolete because of the debris flying in the air and the light that would blind anyone who'd look at it dead in the eye.

It took several minutes for the storm to die out, leaving a significant portion of the forest in literal tatters. Furthermore, the tempest gave birth to an extraordinary being.

The formerly honest, chartreuse eyes were replaced by striking golden orbs; a luminous physique adorned with two sets of wings, the larger one sprouted above the Rhomboid Major muscle and the other on top of the Gluteus Medius muscle; the wings spanned the whole length of the largest circle and was decked with unstained, white feathers; this is the appearance of a human who has been possessed by an angel.

"Who dared to summon me?"

The voice that came out of its mouth was domineering. It felt so hollow that it resonated wildly inside the skulls of those who harken it. Besides that, the sound was a mixture of countless hummers, making it too vague to be categorized under a single gender.

Mikhail just stared at what became of his comrade.

'The spiritual body of the Angel did not materialize. Instead, it took over Sarakiel's body. That is suicide! Humans are incapable of hosting an enormous amount of spiritual energy!'

Disregarding the truth that Angels reside in the highest dimension of another realm, they are creatures who directly serve the deities. Their existence is beyond what a mortal could handle.

'If this persists, Sarakiel will die! I have to do something!'

As he was about to lift his sword, Ierathel, from afar, locked gazes with him.

'I can't move!'

Mikhail was unable to propel his body at will. It was as if he's petrified by a mere glance.

"Were you the one who requested for my presence? Answer me."

The knight did not respond, mainly 'cause of his inability to speak.

"You can converse with me through your mind, mortal."

'My mind? Did you just rummage my thoughts?'

"That's none of your concern. Now, answer me."

'Free Sarakiel!'

Even though it was a partial discourse, the urgency could be seen on Mikhail's face.

"Sarakiel?"

'That body you are using is his!'

Ierathel peered at the man, trying to descry if he was lying or not. It put a finger on its lips all the while ruminating on the news.

"Then I really am not mistaken. This mortal has a fragment of ⬛⬛⬛, ⬛⬛⬛. And you-"

It motioned its hand akin to drawing a line in the air. Suddenly, Mikhail was released from any restrictions.

"The ⬛⬛⬛, ⬛⬛⬛, you have its fragment. I was not expecting to meet a vessel so soon."

'The promised time has yet to come forth. We have not stepped forward. Someone is interfering with fate.'- Ierathel reflected on the occurrence seeing that the perpetrator has the potential to send every element into turmoil.

Regardless of its self-contemplation respecting the fate of all lifeforms, Ierathel deftly kept its calm after deducing that a meddlesome soul has presented itself. Angels have a population rivalling the stars in the multiverse. Accompanying that number are the experiences they've racked up along thousands of aethras of living. Their omnibus understanding liberates them from future surprises.

Meanwhile, similar to the incident with Malphas, Mikhail simply heard ringing on some parts of Ierathel's speech.

"What fragments?", he asked apropos the term he was rather unfamiliar with.

"I am in no position to divulge that information to you."

"What are you on? You said it yourself."

"I probably said too much, never mind that. You are in need of my help, aren't you?"

The knight had no problem with the Angel brus.h.i.+ng off his questions; the more important thing for him is to save Sarakiel.

"Liberate Sarakiel's body and his soul, alive."

"Too stubborn. State your intentions for summoning me."

Mikhail wanted to disobey until he is a.s.sured of Sarakiel's safety. However, his mouth blabbed against his control.

"... Kill. Ronove. Malphas."

"Manners, mortal. Give the proper courtesy of immediately declaring your intent on why you summoned me. I am not unburdened of workloads."

The truth is, the moment Ierathel descended, it already beheld the presence of the Demon n.o.bles. The Angel knew, on the spot, the reason for his calling. It diverted its glare towards the motionless Ronove.

'Hmm... That peculiar aura I sensed upon my arrival, it originated from the suspect. They did something unnecessary.'

"Ronove, I found you, at last. Why can't you simply keep quivering and wailing in agony inside your petty cell, huh?"

Ierathel was talking as if it was coaxing a child to sleep. It strolled, unhurried, en route Ronove. Once the Demon's flesh was reachable by an arm, the angel knocked on its feet and the n.o.ble, in the blink of an eye, transformed into a size smaller than that of an Ostrich's brain.

'With a sole touch?', Percival marvelled at the exhibit of prowess.

'I was able to observe the other angels that were a.s.sembled in the past through the Emperor's memory digging, but all of them had a full-on fight with the Demon n.o.bles. This is ludicrous!'

"Don't huddle me with those juvenile children. I am of higher status, mortal."

Ierathel juggled Ronove's figure like a ball before catalyzing its disappearance with a pop. Mikhail's heart was heaping with admiration of the royal actions of the Angel.

"I've already accomplished my task."

"Wait! Sarakiel, what will happen to him?", the knight instantly snapped out of his musing.

Because of being in wonderment of the behaviour shown by the Angel, Mikhail unlearned for a second that Sarakiel's body has been taken over.

"Do not fret. I'm not that cruel to finess my duty of returning a favour. I'll grant this man a gift and leave his body unharmed in exchange for sanctioning me to incarcerate Ronove. I would've not protected this mortal from the start contra my presence if I have bad intents."

Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief at Ierathel's benevolence. Withal, he was not done yet. Another matter is bidding to be solved. He recognized the valour of Ierathel. Thus, he would prefer to a.s.similate from the angel the method to beat Malphas. The alternative is to commission the angel in defeating the remaining Demon.

'As I have said, I do not mind the approach as long as I can offer up the head to Khamael.'

"What is the power you used to seal Ronove? Can't you do the same with Malphas?"

"That demon is not my responsibility.", as opposed to what he was antic.i.p.ating, the Angel rejected him outright.

"Then how do I -"

"Fear not though, mortal. Aren't you in command of another vessel?"

"What are you saying? I have no knowledge of such a thing.", Mikhail was bewildered, validly so. He hasn't deciphered the ident.i.ty of the vessels, let alone command them.

"Really? Then what is that?"

Ierathel pointed his right index finger in the direction of the forest. There it was, the battered grey corpse of Khamael Percival standing in the shadows.