"A Holy-Demonic Sword…? Impossible…! Something like that shouldn't exist!"

The voice burst out from Kokabiel, who had been momentarily forgotten amid the chaos brought on by Yuuto Kiba's dramatic entrance. Now, attention snapped back to him as he stood frozen in disbelief, his voice echoing through the silence that followed.

Unlike the others present, Kokabiel wasn't just some random high-ranking Fallen Angel. He was a relic of the ancient world—one who had personally witnessed the glory of the original Satans and the true God of the Bible with his own eyes.

Which was exactly why this shook him to the core.

Kokabiel understood something most didn't: holy power and demonic power were absolute opposites. They weren't meant to coexist. They couldn't coexist.

And yet… the proof was standing right in front of him.

"…I get it now," Kokabiel muttered, his voice dripping with loathing and clarity. "The God who governed holy power... the original Satans who ruled demonic power... they're both gone. That's why something like that can exist."

With those words, a truth buried deep within the inner circles of the supernatural world was suddenly dragged out into the open.

"W-What…!?"

"What are you saying!?"

"G-God is... dead!?"

The voices that shouted back were from Xenovia, Irina, and Asia Argento—three believers who had devoted their hearts and lives to the divine. The impact hit them like a divine thunderbolt to the soul.

"Call it nonsense if you want," Kokabiel snarled, his gaze sweeping over them. "But during the Great War, the one where the Three Factions clashed... not only did the original Satans fall, but the God of the Bible perished as well."

"Lies!" Xenovia barked back. "If God is dead, then why do our prayers still reach Him!? Why do miracles still happen!?"

It was a fair question. After all, the Church's power stemmed directly from belief. Their prayers, their faith, were answered. The system still worked.

"That's thanks to Michael," Kokabiel answered darkly. "The system God left behind continues to run... barely. Michael has kept it functioning all this time. But even he is only delaying the inevitable."

"Then… the voice of God we've heard all this time… the revelations passed to religious leaders…"

"Just the Archangel Michael playing his part," Kokabiel finished with a scoff, his expression twisted into a bitter grin. "You've all been worshipping the illusion of a dead god."

He chuckled, but there was no joy in it. Only spite.

"But credit where it's due—Michael has done a damn fine job. Without him, Heaven would've collapsed long ago."

Despite the mocking tone, the pain behind his eyes was clear.

Kokabiel had carried that bitterness for centuries.

When the Great War broke out, the balance of the world crumbled. Heaven lost its God. The Underworld lost the original Four Satans. And the Fallen…?

They lost everything.

In truth, the so-called "Great War" was more of a two-sided alliance—Fallen Angels and Devils teaming up against Heaven. God didn't fall because of the Satans' or the Fallen's power, but because of something far more devastating:

He had sacrificed most of his divine might to seal away the Apocalyptic Beast—Trihexa, the legendary 666.

That sacrifice left Him vulnerable.

And in that moment of weakness, the alliance struck.

But in the end, all sides paid the price. God fell. So did the Satans. Angels, Devils, and Fallen alike were decimated. Even the Grigori, once filled with elite Cadres and promising agents, were reduced to scattered survivors.

The Fallen Angels suffered most of all.

Their numbers were always small, born only from those Angels who had fallen from grace. The losses they endured during the war were devastating beyond recovery.

Azazel survived, yes. But even as Governor-General of Grigori, he was the last true powerhouse left in their ranks.

Once, he had been one of the Five Great Seraphim. But while Heaven and the Underworld eventually rebuilt with new leaders and new generation elites… the Fallen had no such luck.

They had Azazel—and no one else.

Suddenly, a soft thud echoed as Asia collapsed to the ground.

"Asia!" Akeno rushed forward, catching her just in time.

Rias was right behind her, worry etched deep into her face. To her, Asia wasn't just a member of her peerage. She was family.

Akeno quickly checked her condition, then let out a slow breath of relief.

"She's fine. Just fainted," she said gently. "Kokabiel's words must've pushed her too far."

"…I see. Thank goodness…"

Rias let out a breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding.

But Asia wasn't the only one shaken.

Xenovia and Irina stood frozen in place—silent, motionless. Their expressions were vacant, as if the world had just collapsed around them.

Because for them… it had.

Kokabiel's words had ripped their beliefs apart, shattered the very core of their identities.

The God they prayed to, believed in, trusted with all their hearts… had been gone all along.

What they had followed… was a shadow, a lie maintained by a failing system.

It was all an illusion.

Everything they believed in—was fake.

"…That's enough."

A calm, indifferent voice cut through the heavy silence.

"If you're done monologuing, then just die."

A flash of golden light streaked across the air like a divine judgment, and the Chains of Heaven pierced Kokabiel's skull in a blink.

His body jolted. His head exploded into a mess of blood and shattered bone, painting the ground in a grotesque spray of red.

And just like that, one of Grigori's last remaining Cadres was gone.

Far away, hidden in the shadows, Azazel watched everything with narrowed eyes and a subtle twitch at the corner of his lips.

"…I was planning to just seal him," he muttered. "Didn't really expect someone to actually kill the bastard…"

Kokabiel was an ancient warrior. One of their oldest Fallen. Despite his madness, he had once bled for the survival of their race. His record, for better or worse, was part of Grigori's legacy.

More importantly, Kokabiel had been a peak-level Ultimate-Class Fallen Angel.

And now… that power was lost forever.

He was gone.

Meanwhile, Akira stood a short distance away, watching the scene unfold with a strangely unreadable expression.

Because at that very moment, a familiar voice echoed inside his head.

[Ding!]

[You have acquired 1% Inheritance Rate from Template!]

…One percent.

He had just killed a top-tier Ultimate-Class Fallen Angel—someone who could raze a city if left unchecked.

And yet…

He got one percent.

"...You've gotta be kidding me," Akira muttered under his breath. "When did the Inheritance Rate become this stingy?"

The system said nothing. No follow-up message. No smug reply.

Just silence.

And that silence was somehow more frustrating than anything else.

Back during the Rating Game, Akira had calculated his progress. He was certain that he'd passed 80%—maybe even more.

But since then… nothing.

Even after hunting down stray Devils, even after eliminating dangerous threats—his progress bar hadn't budged at all.

He had started wondering if maybe 80% was some sort of soft cap.

And now, finally, after taking out someone on Kokabiel's level… he got one measly percent.

That itch of discomfort in his chest slowly grew into a gnawing sense of unease.

Something wasn't right with the system.

And deep down, Akira knew—

He hadn't even scratched the surface of the truth.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Join my Patreon here:

🔗 patreon.com/FaaanzKun

✅ Enjoy 95+ chapters ahead of WebNovel

✅ Get 2 new chapters every day exclusively on Patreon

✅ Be the first to enjoy the new season before anyone else

Join my Ko-Fi here:

🔗 ko-fi.com/faaanzkun

Thank you for your amazing support! 💖

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —