Ep 162. Plead Your Case. (1)

  “…I take it you’re the Historian, then.”

  “I am.”

  Serenis quietly masked her faze beh her palm. She wasn’t sure what expression she was even making at this point, and she had no mind to find out.

  ‘A thousand years…aire millennium has passed.’

  The First no longer remaio safeguard his realm.

  Instead, it was a man of clear human in – the bck of the Historian’s hair was in stark trast to the lifeless hue of the First’s. Uhe previous keeper who’d hardly worn anything besides taintless white robes, the deity’s attire was darker, decorated with gold-colored seams as. It wasn’t surprising that the ge in ownership would lead to a ge in their residence.

  Despite the heaviness welling within, Serenis duly accepted the ge. She was even gd that the realm was no lohe bloody mess she’d seen it to be st.

  And still, the dragonlord’s eyes helplessly wandered against her will, searg for even the slightest remains of what once had been.

  Noting the behavior once more – quite literally this time, with quill and paper – the Historian called out to the dazed dragon before him.

  “It was not us who shis realm of your brethren’s remains.”

  “…”

  At first, Serenis had thought the deity’s colorless voice distasteful; foul, even. She’d sidered the Historian as just another obstacle that she’d have to remove to reach the Reaper.

  But now, the same voice sounded more soothing than anything.

  Her wandering eyes once again found the speaker as the dragave her response.

  “If…you know what’s bee of them, then…”

  As much as she wished to know the answer, Serenis couldn’t help but feel relut to wish anything of the Historiae his rather cooperative demeanor, the Reaper standing at his side suggested otherwise.

  But as if reading into the dragonlord’s mind, the deity began to respond before Serenis’ question was even pleted.

  “There were no survivors that day. Not the divine, nor demons.”

  “…”

  “As for their remains, it-“

  The Historian’s answer tly silenced when the Reaper suddenly held their shoulder in an iron grip, jerking them back towards himself with a menag gre.

  “Zenon. What do you think you’re doing? She’s our enemy.”

  “…I don’t recall making an enemy of Serenis.”

  “What?...Do you not know what her goal is? You’re of the Twelve yourself.”

  “Following that logic, Aldrid is of the Twelve. I don’t believe Serenis siders her an enemy.”

  “…”

  “Unlike you.”

  For the first time in a long while, the Reaper’s lips were sealed – not by force, but by words.

  Shaking his head, the Historian turo face Serenis once more.

  “Furthermore, I am the Historian. In that se’s my duty to ahose who seek history.”

  The Reaper scoffed at his friend’s answers – sensible answers perhaps, but heless ridiculous in his ears.

  “…Hah. Are you serious? you not see what’s bee of me?”

  “I . You remind me of a raven.”

  “I’ve died! Your precious guest has killed death itself! Do you know how many divinities she’s destroyed?!”

  “…Mana, space, death, emotion, ford I suppose star, which she’s absorbed herself. That makes six in total.”

  “You know and you still-“

  “But what of it?”

  The Historian’s ued question ly cut off the Reaper’s outburst.

  With his anger slowly turning to bewilderment, a fused, empty ughter began to slip out of Felicir.

  “…Zenon. Do you not uand how dire the situation is? The demon standing before us is here to kill us both, not chitchat and dally with your dusty tomes.”

  “You speak as if destroying six pieces of stone is some al sin. As I recall, those of us who did no harm still remain alive.”

  After his st remark, the Historian stole another brief gowards his guests – this time at Aymeia in specific.

  “In fact, one remains alive even after doing harm.”

  With that, the Reaper audibly spped his own head.

  Having his annoyance growing over its limit, his head was actively starting to ache; he would’ve had an easier time versing with a wall.

  “…I see you haven’t ged o, Zenon. You know what? Fine. You clearly have no iion of ag as one of us, so let’s approach this in a different manner.”

  This time, the Reaper opened his balled fist, revealing a wriggling spider within.

  “turies ago, Vulka has made an oath to the Twelve: to disallow the dragonkin from involving themselves in any and all worldly affairs outside of their , as well as to destroy their first lord’s heart. This you know already.”

  “I do. But as matters stand, Serenis is not fully of the dragonkin at the moment.”

  “…And that’s exactly why I brought this runt. See for yourself – the first lord’s heart pinly remained, and the dragonkin are once again involving themselves in our affairs. The dragon that this spider was before? She alone killed at least dozens of humans outside the dragonkin’s .”

  “Hm.”

  “It’s not just the dragonlord; the entire kin’s broken an a oath. As divinities, we should be delivering appropriate punishment.”

  When Felicir’s argument fihe Historian slowly nodded his head. The argument itself was certainly making a lot more sehan the Reaper’s earlier protests.

  Following suit, he raised two fingers at his ally.

  “…Two questions.”

  “Questions? What?”

  “First, I am not the Judge. Why exactly are you telling me all this?”

  “THAT’S your question? Hathelon’s dead – killed by your precious guest over there!”

  “So? I still don’t see how that’s a reason for me to repce Hathelon as the Judge.”

  “…Well, you just happeo be the closest one avaible of us, so…”

  “Closest avaible, you say? Not because I’m the only one remaining who could oppose Serenis?”

  “…No. That’s mere ce.”

  “…”

  Although the Historian showed no visible ge in expression, Serenis could swear his eyes were betraying a hint of pt as he tinued.

  Light and Aymeia also stared at them in a daze, before the half finally leaned in to whisper into Aymeia’s ears.

  “Hey…is this normal for you guys? All the arguing and stuff?”

  “…No…? The Historian’s never been around, but the rest of us, we usually just…did whatever Felicir suggested…”

  “…Oh.”

  Sighing, the peculiar deity folded one of the two raised fingers as he tinued.

  “Is that so? Then, sed question.”

  And this time, he stepped closer to the Reaper, emotionless eyes staring into the Reaper’s eerie blue.

  “I am the Historian – and this is the Archive, where the ey of Nerion’s past remains recorded.”

  “…So what?”

  “Do you truly think that I, of all people, remained unaware that Vulka’s oath was broken?”

  Once again, the Reaper’s expressiowisted in anger.

  “…You remained silent…all the while knowing what was going on?”

  “Precisely.”

  Satisfied, the Historian stepped away from Felicir tain their inal distance.

  “I have no i in participating in Nerion’s affairs. This I’ve told you, time and again.”

  “…How long are you pnning to keep up that attitude? Look at what the Twelve’s bee! Half of us are gone already – don’t you think it’s about time you have some care about what goes on in the world?!”

  “Hm.”

  Zenon turned his head to face Serenis once more.

  Again, his expression was devoid of emotions – but Serenis could swear his eyes seemed amused.

  “And so I am told, Serenis. Thoughts?”

  “…Do as you wish. As long as you remain a deity, we’re bound to front each other anyhow.”

  “As I wish?...If only I’d heard that sooner.”

  This time, the Historian’s lips did curve into a visible smile. Though it would fade away as he turned back to face Felicir, Serenis definitely caught the deity’s emotions showing on surface.

  “Very well, Reaper. From hereon, I will proceed not as the Historian, but as Nerion’s divinity.”

  “As if there’s a difference…”

  Despite his friend’s grumbling, Zenon showed no visible respoo the Reaper’s attitude.

  Instead, he put aside his quill and papers, repg them for ay book out of the Archive’s shelves. His emotionless eyes grew even more stern than before as he seemed to stare down into the Reaper’s soul.

  “You stand before the divine. Plead your case.”