Chapter 105
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Chapter 105: Title
Hein ate only a morsel before feeling full, his stomach shrinking to that of a true feline. He gazed at the remaining dried fish with frustrated longing.
Loral collected the bowls and wiped his mouth clean.
"After eating, shouldn’t you brush your teeth?" Loral fixed him with a steady look.
Hein’s mind reeled. Brush his teeth? That task always belonged to the gentle maid—he had no desire to endure the Son’s peculiar "care." Was this sanctimonious figure truly playing the role of a cat’s caretaker?
No, wait—he wasn’t actually a cat! Hein’s thoughts tangled, the dissonance he’d long ignored now clawing to the surface. Something had felt wrong since encountering Lady Witch.
Seizing the moment Loral rose, Hein leaped from the low table and darted beneath the bed. With his diminutive form, scaling furniture or fleeing through the balcony proved impossible. Surely the dignified Son wouldn’t grovel on the floor to retrieve him? A brilliant plan, Hein decided.
Returning with an unopened cat toothbrush, Loral peered under the bed. The escape hadn’t gone unnoticed. "Perhaps holy light serves better," he murmured, setting aside the brush. Pure radiance blossomed at his fingertip, lancing beneath the bedframe.
The holy light struck its target with excessive vigor, flinging the hidden creature airborne. As Hein soared, certain of impending death, the glow halted him mid-flight. Innocent life remained unharmed—this sanctified cleaning spell scoured the black kitten from whiskers to tail, leaving fur cloud-soft and immaculate.
Blinking up at Loral, Hein flexed his paws in bewilderment before dismissing the mystery. Let the Son keep his good mood—as a genuine cat, even potent holy light spells couldn’t expose his demonic true form.
Loral settled by the bed, fatigue lining his smile as he beckoned. Hein bounded over without hesitation.
Though unwilling to employ succubi tricks, Lady Lilith’s advice rang true—he must cement his importance to Loral swiftly. If the Son cherished his brother Hill so deeply, perhaps becoming his confidant? The logistics of feline-human friendship mattered less than forging bonds strong enough to mask his essence.
"Brother arrives tomorrow. Are you pleased, little one?" Loral lifted the kitten scaling his leg onto his lap.
Understanding dawned—Hill’s early visit explained the Son’s cheer. Thank darkness he’d met Lady Lilith today!
"Brother favors you." Loral’s fingers sank into plush fur, feeling the vibrant heartbeat beneath. Living warmth surpassed even the finest rug.
He didn’t expect responses from this aloof creature—its earlier reaction to the Tier One spell had surprised him. Though the black cat showed nothing beyond agility, unease lingered. Best have the archangel inspect it tomorrow. Not for his own sake, but Hill’s protection.
That night, Hein slept on the carpet again. Waking to unfamiliar presences, he blinked sleep-crusted eyes—had Loral stayed in?
Stretching lazily, he found the room empty—until Loral emerged fully dressed from the dressing chamber, clearly risen hours prior. Crouching low, Hein cursed his eroded vigilance.
——Loral didn’t notice Hein’s awakening, so deep was his slumber.
"Time for breakfast."
As customary, Loral cast holy light spells over him, prompting Hein’s silent grumbling about the compulsive purification ritual. Before he could rise, Loral suddenly bent down and scooped him up in arms.
Hein stood frozen in disbelief.
The mystery unraveled when he spotted two figures in the dining hall. One bore Loral’s exact likeness, while the unfamiliar companion seated beside Hill radiated an otherworldly aura no ordinary person could possess.
Undoubtedly Hill’s associate… Hein swiftly reined in his thoughts, wary of mental detection.
——Deities perceive all through whispered invocations. Angels, being divine constructs, inherit diluted versions of this omniscience – feeble echoes compared to their creators’ boundless awareness.
Yet even diminished, voicing such names mentally before these celestial beings risked exposure.
"Brother." Loral settled the feline at its designated cushion before bowing to Hill. His gaze shifted to the golden-haired figure.
"Archangel Michael."
"Formalities are unnecessary, Son." Michael studied the identical twins. No wonder Gabriel remained perplexed for decades – mirrored appearances, mirrored mannerisms, even mirrored speech patterns. Only the All-Knowing could distinguish the true Son.
"Be seated, Loral."
The triad dined in ritual silence before adjourning to the parlor.
"You’ve grown since my departure," Hill remarked, gathering the shadowy feline that trailed them. His fingers combed through ink-black fur with practiced tenderness.
Hein leaned into the caress, finding this gentler incarnation far preferable to Loral’s mercurial moods.
"Meow~ Purr~"
"Does our resemblance earn this affection?" Hill chuckled as the creature nuzzled his palm.
Hein mentally snorted: Resemblance? You could say you’re carved from the same mold.
Loral observed the traitorous feline through veiled suspicion. "Archangel, what brings you and my brother here?"
"Your insights on the abyssal invasion," Michael replied, steepling fingers. "We seek permanent eradication methods."
"Even Heaven’s commander lacks solutions?" Loral’s composure cracked briefly.
Regret softened Michael’s celestial features. "The abyssal creatures breaching the human realm… our hands are tied."
As Loral waited, the archangel continued:
"The divine realm of Heaven and demonic Hell exist as separate planes. Long ago, when the source world pulsed with primal magic, higher beings traversed freely – even deities walked among mortals."
"Those days could’ve easily quelled this invasion. Current abyssal creatures barely reach tier three, scarce few attaining tier five. Mid-ranking angels could purge such vermin… had the Great War not severed our realms."
"Both East and West sealed spatial passages – ours dubbed the abyss of hell. There we imprisoned an abyssal deity’s avatar. But recent fissures in Hell’s seals unleashed corruptive energies, spawning this crisis. Mortals must resolve this through their own strength."
Feigning feline simplicity under Hill’s strokes, Hein’s twitching ears devoured every syllable.
"But My God’s intervention…"
"Would shatter your recovering world," Michael interjected. "Divine power exceeds the human realm’s fragile Awakening. Even we comprehend not all intricacies behind this restraint."
Loral’s bitter smile surfaced. His daily massacres barely dented the swelling tide – ten thousand new casualties weekly, commoners helpless against infection or slaughter. The arithmetic of despair.
