It looked like an experiment log!
"Is it possible to combine two attributes in complete opposition within the same body?"
"What would happen if a Wraith were to possess a light attribute?"
"Is a Vampire's blood servant considered a hybrid between human and vampire? If so, what would happen if werewolf blood were introduced into their system? Would it create a hybrid with three bloodlines—or would the conflicting genetics cause the body to collapse?"
"A newborn infant's heart, untouched by sin, should theoretically be able to contain a certain degree of holy light without immediate rejection."
Experiment 1:
Failed. Excessive infusion caused the heart to collapse. Could not contain the energy.
Experiment 8:
Failed. Subject rejected the heart. Light attribute unstable. Wraith violently combusted.
Experiment 22:
Partial success. Heart synchronized for 42 seconds before the subject was torn apart by the resulting combined force, leading to a small explosion.
...
"Absolutely lunatic. Whoever ran these experiments must've lost their mind." Alya gritted her teeth.
"What's wrong?" Amelia walked to her side.
"Your Grace, you need to read this." Alya handed her the papers.
Amelia took them, her expression unreadable as she skimmed the contents. After a long pause, she handed them back.
"Keep these safe. The Church has been searching for any clues about what the traitor is planning. These files might offer some insight and shed light on their intentions."
"Yes!"
Suddenly, she noticed Amelia approaching a nearby table. On it sat a black box-shaped device. Without a word, Amelia raised her hand and smashed it with her fist.
Startled, Alya asked, "Your Grace... what was that?"
"A jammer," Amelia replied. "We should be able to reach the others on the ground now."
Alya nodded and quickly pulled out her device, trying to reach the team upstairs.
That's when she heard Amelia speak again with a sharp tone.
"Adam. What are you doing?"
'Adam?'
Alya was startled to realize she had completely forgotten about her teammate for a while, or to be precise after they entered the room. It wasn't until Amelia called his name that she remembered—Adam had been with them the whole time.
'What is he doing?' Alya wondered and turned around.
She saw Adam standing near the back, far behind the rest of the team, right in front of the silver doors. The silver doors were tightly shut.
'What? When did those doors close? Did Adam do it? How come we didn't notice it?'
Alya's brows drew together in confusion.
"Adam?" she called cautiously.
"That boy is asleep now."
Alya tensed up almost immediately, hearing his voice tone shift unnaturally. "Who are you?!"
Ignoring her, Adam turned to Archbishop Amelia with a faint smile. "Gabriel. It's been a while."
Amelia had been watching Adam closely. The moment he spoke with strange familiarity, her eyes flared with unnatural light, pupils glowing. Behind her, there were silhouettes of several pairs of wings.
"Metatron, you damned traitor!"
Her voice thundered like a storm, shaking the room. Alya staggered, a wave of dizziness crashing over her—she nearly blacked out.
In a flash, Amelia summoned a Sacred Spear, drawing her arm back to throw it, however, Adam's next words managed to stop her.
"Unless you want both the boy and the girl dead, I'd think twice before throwing that spear."
Amelia froze, her hand paused in mid-air. She clenched her teeth and glared at Adam, but ultimately obeyed, lowering the spear and unsummoning it.
"Metatron, you have the audacity to stand before me after what you've done?"
"It was a necessary sacrifice," he replied softly.
"A necessary sacrifice?" Amelia let out a bitter laugh. "Then why not sacrifice yourself? Whatever it is you're planning, after all the damage you've caused, you'd be better off dead. Father would be ashamed of what you've become. You're turning into something worse than the demons."
"Someone had to act. The world needed a second Heavenly Father." Metatron said.
"Michael is too bound by his rigid justice," he continued. "And Lucifer is too unstable—blinded by his ambition and vengeance."
Amelia narrowed her eyes. "So what are you trying to say? You want to take the throne? Is that it?"
"I never said that," Metatron replied, eyes glinting. "Nor do I intend to."
"My role in Heaven has always been that of the Observer and the Scribe. I plan to keep it that way. Until the very end."
"Then what are you planning? How many more innocent lives are you willing to ruin before you're satisfied?"
Metatron didn't answer directly. Instead, he looked up at the ceiling, as if watching something beyond it. "It's here."
"Here? What's here?"
"It was nice talking to you," he said with a faint smile. "Raphael's Incarnation is nearby too, isn't he? Good. I hope you both enjoy my gift."
Suddenly, Alya's device began beeping violently. Amelia picked it up from the ground and answered.
"Finally! We got through!" a voice on the other end shouted. "Get out of there—now!"
"What's happening?" Amelia asked coldly, her gaze flicking to Metatron. The latter's skin was glowing a blinding white, peeling off in pieces. But his face stayed calm, almost peaceful.
The call was short and abruptly cut off by interference, but Amelia had already heard enough. Her expression froze.
...
Toram City.
Around one hundred kilometers from Nubis City.
On the rooftop dining area of a high-rise, a man with a tranquil expression sat quietly, his soft yellow hair falling down to his back, a neatly groomed beard framing his calm face.
His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon. On his side of the table, there was a quill and a book with old parchment.
Seated across from him was a middle-aged man. He was devilishly handsome, with striking blue eyes and jet-black hair.
On top of his striking looks, the man's casual clothing stood out sharply in the high-end rooftop restaurant that was famous for its strict dress code. His presence alone was an anomaly, and naturally, it drew attention. Throughout the period, everyone on the terrace had stolen at least one glance in his direction.
Many men scoffed under their breath, visibly irritated. Meanwhile, several women—especially widows or those around his age—were eyeing him like hungry wolves.
And yet, oddly enough, no one dared approach him. Even among the wealthy and influential guests, some of whom were known for being bold and assertive, not a single one had the nerve to strike up a conversation. It was as if, before him, they became quiet and cautious—like docile lambs facing a predator they couldn't quite identify.
Despite the quiet stir he caused, the black-haired man remained completely unbothered. He calmly cut into his steak. When he placed the final piece into his mouth and set down his knife, a waiter finally approached the table with a courteous smile.
"Did you enjoy your steak, sir? Is there anything else I can assist you with?"
The man looked up, eyes glinting with amusement. "The steak was fine," he said smoothly, "but I prefer human meat more."
The look on the waiter's face froze.
A beat of silence passed before the man chuckled and burst into laughter. "Relax. It's just a joke. A joke, you know?"
The waiter let out a nervous laugh. "Haha… yes, sir. You have quite a sense of humor."
"You must too," the man replied with a grin.
"Everyone around me says my jokes are terrible. It was nice to meet someone who actually appreciates them."
As the two men chatted, a sudden scream broke the calm of the restaurant.
"Kyaa!"
"What happened?"
"L-look over there!"
"No fucking way…"
"Is that a meteor?! Holy shit! Bernard, why are you pulling out your phone?! Put it away and run, you idiot!"
From the rooftop, they had a clear view of the sky—where a massive meteor was slowly descending toward a point on the distant horizon.
Some diners froze in place, stunned and speechless. Others whipped out their phones to record the moment, hands shaking. The more sensible had already bolted for the elevators and emergency stairwells, scrambling to descend all twenty floors as panic set in.
The waiter who had been serving the two gentlemen had long since fled, abandoning his tray and disappearing with the crowd.
Unbothered, the handsome middle-aged man leaned back in his seat and glanced across the table, whistling.
"As expected from the Lord's Proxy, Heaven's Deputy, and the Heavenly Scribe. Your methods always go beyond what anyone could imagine."
The man soon continued with a skeptical tone. "Still, calling down a meteor? That's unlike your style at all. Spill it, what's your real objective?"
The bearded man simply smiled in response, offering no explanation.
"Tch. I hate that smile of yours. Makes me want to punch your face right now."
The bearded man ignored him, eyes fixed on the sky, silently watching the meteor's descent.
A moment later, the meteor finally struck the ground.
A blinding flash tore across the sky, so intense it turned night into day for a split second. The skyline disappeared in a burst of white, searing light. Almost instantly, the explosion followed.
Boom!
A massive column of fire surged upward, thick and furious, as if the earth itself had ruptured.
The flames twisted into a towering mushroom cloud that boiled with smoke, ash, and burning debris.