"…So, that's the gist of my plan and the state of this world. I don't expect more from you than assistance. But first, what reward do you want?"
"If any miracle can be granted, I want to see Sitri."
"Fine, Saber. In this world, that's possible. Take down a couple of Fallen Angel cadres and go on a vacation with your wife."
"As Erin's guardian, I'm content serving the innocent. But… I'd like to see my first wife, Stheno, again."
"You're a troublesome one, Lancer. I don't know if Truth can erase your woman troubles, but give it a shot. Enjoy it as a fleeting dream."
"Even in a different world, can I let the flag of Makoto remain tarnished?"
"I knew you'd say that, Berserker. Wherever you are, you uphold the flag of Makoto, right? Then you can't forgive those who fell to Devils, can you?"
"Okitaaaa!"
The black-clad man, summoned by Solomon's unknown magecraft, lunged at Sirzechs' Knight, Okita Souji, with a face of pure wrath, delivering a ferocious slash.
"Ngh!"
Okita drew her blade to block, but the man's superior strength sent her crashing through a window. He pursued, leaping after her.
"Souji!" .
"And I'm outta here!"
Solomon jumping from the window frame.
But before landing, something kicked him from outside, slamming him into a wall. The force didn't stop, propelling him through the room, destroying it.
The culprit—a self-proclaimed new human, the enigmatic clay figure Kingu—rushed to Yasaka's side.
"Are you alright, Yasaka?"
"Kingu!"
"Good. Looks like nothing happened."
Kingu had sensed the Fallen Angel leader's presence in Kyoto earlier but received no word from Yasaka or other youkai. Suspecting an intrusion like the White Dragon's, or even that Yasaka was hiding something, he opted to observe cautiously. Then, an overwhelming magical presence appeared—not just powerful, but raw, painful to sense, distinct from humans, youkai, or gods. Ignoring restraints, he came here and kicked the source of that presence—Solomon.
Pushing through the shattered wall, Solomon returned.
"Ouch, that hurt."
"You didn't die from that?"
"Nah, you were a bit spooked, weren't you? No sin lies with the building—that's your stance, right? Am I that bad? Well, I forgot to mask my presence, so my bad. Let's start over. Nice to meet you, Kingu. I'm this world's Solomon."
Anger. That was Kingu's first impression. This man's name confirmed it. In this world, the King of Magecraft was known as the king who knew only rage.
But his anger wasn't from Kingu's attack. It was directed at two figures from the start: Azazel, the Fallen Angel leader, and the red-haired Devil, likely Sirzechs Lucifer, the Crimson Satan, based on his magical power and appearance.
Azazel and Sirzechs studied Kingu and Solomon.
"This world's?"
The phrase implied two Solomons. No, it hinted at something more complex.
They erred here. They should've reacted to Solomon's name, like Yasaka, who paled.
"Solomon!?"
This Devil's true identity was likely the legendary king of rage. Azazel and Sirzechs' reactions suggested they knew. Paradoxically, this confirmed Solomon's words were neither jest nor delusion.
"Kingu, run! I know you're strong, but he's beyond that. You mustn't engage!"
"I was already planning to. Seeing him up close confirmed it—he's like Mother—"
"Whoa, that's classified, some things shouldn't be said, clay doll. Timing matters. And I'm not letting you go just yet."
Solomon spread his arms, welcoming them.
"Behold my wrath, my original sin. I'll leave it all here."
Sensing his intent, Kingu grabbed Yasaka to flee, but he was a moment too late.
"The Crown Upon the Earth: Cyclamen!"
As the name of the flower Solomon supposedly loved echoed, the world transformed.
It was a temple, its architecture ancient Israelite, unmistakably a king's hall with Solomon on its throne. Despite the vast space, the air felt stifling.
"A barrier… No, to deploy something this vast instantly?"
"Damn it, always pulling out stuff that piques my interest!"
"This is my mind's landscape, the throne room of my accumulated rage and obsession. Only human love and hope can break it. Let's kill each other to our hearts' content!"
Okita Souji and the black-clad man were absent—perhaps the barrier limited occupants or range. Solomon didn't expect to defeat Azazel and Sirzechs alone. In life, maybe, but not in this body.
The taunts and hints were just the prelude.
"You're wasting too much effort on this farce, ancient king of Israel."
A clear female voice called from behind the throne.
Hooves clopped as a knight appeared, riding a white horse, wielding a mystical lance, her face hidden by a lion-shaped helm.
Solomon didn't flinch. She was clearly his ally.
"Sorry for the wait. I paid you upfront. Do it right, Goddess of the Lance. Or should I say Red Dragon now?"
"Either works, Solomon. I am Artoria, and I am Ddraig."
"Got it. Keep that crimson Satan busy until the promised time."
"Understood. This ends our diplomacy, which is a relief."
"It's been a while, Azazel, Sirzechs."
They recognized her aura—a dragon's, as vivid as only two others: the White Dragon of Saxony and the Red Dragon of Britain. This was unmistakably Ddraig's.
"…Ddraig?"
The knight ignored the question, leveling her lance.
"First, double the stakes."
Was my trigger pull too soft?
"Haa, haa… Damn it."
Everyone's alive. Despite firepower that could incinerate a forest, they survived. Some countered with explosions, others absorbed it with mist or shadows, and one used a Balance Breaker's sword-dragon as a shield. Still, they were barely standing—one thrust could finish them.
"Guh, everyone okay?"
"If this looks okay, go get treated by Professor Florence."
"That'd be… troublesome."
Fine, I'll admit it. I didn't want to kill them, even though I burned to do so. This contradiction is my limit.
"Heracles-san!"
"Why'd you protect us?"
"Heh, no idea. Damn it, I wasn't this kind of guy…"
They betrayed me when we called ourselves the Hero Faction.
"Everyone's defending or setting barriers—you've grown…"
"Jeanne-san!"
"Aaah! Any healers? This bleeding needs attention!"
I should've died first. I told them to use me as a shield, to leave me, to abandon me. No one listened.
"Hah! Pathetic. Fitting for hero wannabes. What now, Hero Faction leader Cao Cao? Your friends are dying. Protect them with your life."
If they'd expected my True Longinus to kill the God of the Bible, using me and Goetia, I'd understand. But that wasn't it.
—Thanks!
—It was fun.
—I'm grateful, Leader!
—Please, live.
—If only you survive.
—You're so dense.
They left smoldering last words. How much better would curses have been? Gratitude and affection at death's door—what were they thinking? I only had myself, my spear. I only thought of myself. Yet I couldn't fulfill their wishes, dying pathetically.
Facing an irreversible past, my heart nearly broke.
"Haa, haa… No need to tell me, mummy man. Everyone, I'll buy time! Contact Goetia!"
Cao Cao raising his demonic spear and facing forward.
Seeing myself stand tall without the True Longinus made me want to cry.
With the True Longinus, I felt I could go anywhere. Without it, I thought I was nothing. But that wasn't true. I could've gone anywhere from the start.
Still, I have to kill us. This is judgment and atonement.
"True Longinus activation."
Because of them—because of us—Goetia failed to incinerate the Biblical system. Because we aimed to be heroes, Goetia lost to God's schemes.
The King of Men, a perfect being, was tainted by the impurity of the Hero Faction, leading to that ending. It's the same in this history, this world. Noticing God's scheme at this stage is the biggest difference from my known history. But God's schemes don't matter—as long as we exist, Goetia will die again. I can't allow that. To avoid that future, I'll sink into the mud again. A body stained with indelible filth can't get dirtier!
"Noble Phantasm multi—"
"Disinfect!"
A scalpel flew, narrowly missing. As a Servant, mundane blades couldn't harm him, but he dodged reflexively. It aimed for his eyeball—dodging was wise.
There stood a blonde girl: Asia Argento, once revered as a saint, vilified as a witch, now feared as a formidable woman.
The worst person to face returned. He'd timed this when she and her were absent! No way Professor Florence was nearby, right? Facing that master-disciple duo was something he avoided even in life!
"What's this mess?! So many patients, and this dust is unsanitary! I can't treat anyone without hygiene. You caused that intense light! Strong light damages eyes! Vision loss is bad enough, but it increases injury risks. Trying to make more patients?!"
What was this? Her presence felt like everything would be fine. Invincible, almost.
"And that bandage wrapping is wrong! It's old and unclean. Unsanitary. Sit there, and I'll teach you properly."
Her pace was overwhelming, but he stifled a laugh. Right, this was who she was. He never saw her romantically but respected her. She was their strongest—not in power or skill, but in soul, in presence. He recalled their first meeting's game of tag.
Then he remembered: she died first. Her strength and his weakness hit him. She died protecting him. Her hands saved far more than his spear ever could. He should've died then. He thought it over countless times, and the conclusion never changed.
"What a spectacle."
The Professor. Was he nearby, spiritualized, or did he arrive with Asia?
My mentor. My goal.
Even his deductive prowess wouldn't recognize me, fallen so low. Who'd think a dreamer became a failure? With him here, the odds were against me. As he considered retreating, the Professor spoke gravely.
"You've become quite a dull man, my student, Cao Cao."
…As expected, I'll never outmatch him.
"Emergency report from Amon, representing the Nine Pillars of Insight. To Goetia and all Demon God Pillars: The identity of our next adversary, the soon-to-be-unsealed Apocalyptic Beast Trihexa 666, has been confirmed."
***
If you enjoyed this story, don't forget to drop 5 stars and your power stone. And if you want to read more than 70 chapters in advance, feel free to visit: pat reon . com / KangTL