Capítulo 45: Let's Talk About You First
"You wish to speak to Azazel?" Draven scratched his goatee, glancing across the water-barriered bedroom at Sebastian. The scene was slightly awkward.
Sebastian wasn't even looking at him. Instead, he stood at Acier's bedside, gently running his fingers through her hair. A soft smile touched his lips as Acier blushed slightly but made no effort to pull away.
Dorothy, Nozel, Lilith, Nathan, and Jonna observed the scene with a mix of expressions.
Dorothy found it cute.
Nozel was fighting a losing battle with his twitching eyebrow.
Lilith looked indifferent, even a little bored.
Nathan and Jonna mumbled something inaudible, their bodies stiff with discomfort.
Noelle wasn't in the room—she was off with her grandmother. Amara, of course, hadn't been invited to these daily appointments. It was enough for her to know that Acier was recovering. She didn't need to know how, lest her old age loosen her tongue. One slip could plunge House Silva into public outrage for "associating" with blasphemous devil worshippers.
Even if Augustus, against all odds, stood up for them—a slim chance, given his indoctrination to oppose anything related to devils—it wouldn't matter. One king alone couldn't placate an entire nation. House Silva wouldn't survive long under the kingdom's current attitude toward devils.
Perhaps things would change if Nacht ever began openly using his devil powers in service of the kingdom as a Magic Knight. But that was a matter for the future.
For now, it was the same reason Solid and Nebra weren't here. Solid, only four years old, would probably have the wits scared out of him at the sight of a devil. As for Noelle, when she was present, her baby brain probably thought Azazel and Cimeies were adorable little toys.
Still running his fingers through Acier's hair, Sebastian finally glanced back at Draven and nodded.
"Yes. Alone as well. Will that be a problem?"
Draven narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly to the right, his gaze fixed on his shoulder. Everyone watched as small black particles floated there, coalescing into a pitch-black impish figure.
Once again, the bite-sized Azazel materialized into existence: goat-like horns curling from his head, pupil-less white eyes gleaming, short angelic wings stained black, and a stubby goat tail completing his eerie form.
Azazel looked up at Draven, and the two shared a silent exchange. After a moment, Draven gave a subtle nod—approval or permission.
Azazel floated off Draven's shoulder, flapping toward Sebastian before unceremoniously plopping himself on the man's head like a nesting bird.
Sebastian blanked for a moment, blinking in disbelief. He opened his mouth to protest but closed it again, teeth gritted as he forced a smile.
Forget it. I'm asking him for a favor—I can tolerate it. Besides... he's strangely soft and smooth. I'll just treat him like a pet cat.
Acier looked up at him with wry amusement, but Sebastian ignored her. Instead, he turned his gaze across the bed to Dorothy, nodding.
"All right, Dorothy. You can take the others away for your mother's appointment."
The petite, purple-haired girl grinned as her grimoire flew out, pages flipping rapidly. With a snap of her fingers, a swirling vortex of purple and pink hues enveloped the room.
In an instant, she and everyone else vanished, leaving only Sebastian and Azazel behind.
Sebastian inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself and steady his racing heart, before sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the doorway.
Azazel, seemingly satisfied, fluttered down from Sebastian's head and hovered in front of him, their eyes level. The devil was the first to speak.
"You've finally approached me," Azazel began, its voice an unsettling blend of heaviness and squeakiness, distinctly otherworldly. "Took you a bit longer than I'd expect for someone of your intelligence, even after Young Master Nacht dropped you that hint."
Sebastian remained unfazed, though his jaw tightened slightly as Azazel continued. "Well, I suppose I can't blame you. Certain individuals are working hard to make sure you don't notice certain things."
Azazel scrutinized him, his white, pupil-less eyes unblinking. "Your daughter will cancel her spell in approximately 42 minutes, but I won't give you more than 20 before I cease my summon. We're about to discuss many taboo things, the kind that attract certain...gazes. I have no intention of being possessed by Lucifero or suffering the consequences of my foolishness a third time. I don't think I'd survive."
The devil's voice lowered ominously. "So, if you have questions, I suggest you start voicing them."
Sebastian cracked his knuckles, clasping his hands as he nodded, ready to speak. But Azazel interrupted him again.
"In the absence of time, prioritize the questions that concern you most. The deeper truths of this world can wait—assuming I'm not smited on the spot for entertaining this conversation."
Azazel let out an eerie laugh, the sound sending a chill down Sebastian's spine. He noticed a slight tremble in the devil's figure, along with a bead of sweat rolling down its round, blackened head.
"As for me," Azazel continued, "all you need to know right now is that I've fallen twice. The first time, from the heavens, as an angel who lost grace and became the seventh-ranking supreme devil ruling over the third level of the underworld—for my gall. The second time, I was crippled into the mid-ranking trash you see before you—for gazing at something I shouldn't have."
The devil's voice softened, a bitter edge creeping in. "The Azazel you've read about in Judeo-Christian demonology? That's me, more or less."
Sebastian bit his lip, his mind racing as he recalled fragments of a dream—Lucius' haunting words echoing in his memory:
Watch the frailty of the human heart. The pitiful and vulnerable souls That One cursed us with.
His teeth clenched, his voice hoarse and tinged with desperation as he spoke. "Can I at least know who That One is?"
"God," Azazel replied without hesitation. His tone was flat, but he quickly elaborated. "And I don't mean those minor deities or beings with slight divinity who dare call themselves gods. Not that statue in the seabed temple mistaken for Leviathan, nor Dryad, nor the God of Fate, nor any other. I'm speaking of the one above all. The omniscient. The omnipotent. He who sees everything and, supposedly, created everything."
"Supposedly?" Sebastian narrowed his eyes but quickly shook his head. He could feel it—Azazel wouldn't say more.
Sebastian got straight to the point. "Diving into my memories, diving into Acier's memories—is it safe?"
A moment passed, and Sebastian's eyes widened in shock. Azazel seemed to glitch in and out of existence, flickering like a bug in some video game, as though he were being censored or deleted from reality. Then, just as suddenly, he stabilized, returning to his usual form.
Talking about God isn't taboo, but this is an issue?!
The fallen angel trembled violently, heavy sweat streaming down his round forehead. His wide, ghastly mouth opened as he nearly spat his words at Sebastian.
"Damn it! Do we have some sort of problem?! Do you want to kill me?!"
Sebastian stared, speechless, as the devil wiped his forehead with his small, chibi-like hands, still trembling.
"T-thankfully… t-thankfully…" Azazel stammered, his voice shaky. "It seems He's giving me permission to answer you… but He wouldn't let me off without a warning."
Who is He?! Sebastian's thoughts were written plainly across his face, though some deep instinct told him Azazel wasn't talking about Lucius—or even That One.
Azazel, a being with the power to glimpse heavenly secrets, didn't need words to read the question burning in Sebastian's mind. Gathering himself, he pointed a tiny, trembling finger at the man, his tone sharp.
"No more questions. I know what you want to ask, so shut up and listen. I'll answer what I can. If I don't explain something, it's because I either don't know or don't dare to say. So unless you want to wish death on me, don't voice those questions."
The devil paused, then added with a biting edge, "Curing your wife is nearly impossible without me. And Master Draven seems quite fond of me. I doubt he'd help you if you were the cause of my death."
For good measure, Azazel twisted the knife. "Just know he's not entirely pleased with your company after what you did to Young Master Nacht."
Sebastian clicked his tongue, leaning back slightly on the bed and resting his hands on his lap. I guess it's Q&A time—with only the A part, he thought with a dry chuckle.
Azazel raised one of his tiny fingers, his tone finally calm. "To answer your question—no, it won't be dangerous. In fact, it will be beneficial to your wife and to you in particular."
He continued, "You'll get some answers to questions you've been avoiding. Like why you never felt much when taking a life."
Sebastian tensed for a moment but said nothing. Azazel pressed on. "To maximize the boons from the dive, combine dream magic with memory magic."
Sebastian nodded. He'd already been planning something along those lines.
Azazel scratched his cheek before continuing, his voice steady yet grave. "Let's get to the heaviest topic—the one you've been circling for a while. You've been noticing it, piecing it together since that dream of yours… and more recently, from your realization this morning."
Sebastian's fingers clawed into the mattress beneath him, bracing himself as Azazel pressed on.
"Maybe my transmigration isn't a transmigration? Maybe it was a rebirth, and certain events caused that rebirth to turn into a reincarnation?"
The devil's pupil-less gaze bore into him. "That's what you're asking yourself right now, isn't it?"
Sebastian swallowed hard and nodded.
Azazel's expression softened into something somber—almost pitying, his thin lips forming a grim line. "Or rather, that's what you're telling yourself. You're convincing yourself it's the truth. Because the real truth—the possibility that this was never a second life to begin with, that this is and has always been your one and only life—is too hard to bear."
"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"
Sebastian's roar shattered the tension, his voice hoarse and raw as his bloodshot eyes bore into Azazel. Cold sweat trickled down his temple as his chest heaved with ragged breaths.
He waved the devil off furiously, his words tumbling out in heated disbelief. "My life, my Earth, my Aurora—none of that was a lie! I remember everything clearly! Her likes, her dislikes, my ups and downs with my friends, my struggles, the taste of food, the smell of home! The laws of science and physics that even translate into this world! How can something like that possibly be fake?!"
Azazel hovered silently, letting the outburst settle. After a pause, he spoke softly.
"Why can't the fake feel real? Why can't the fake become real, even for a moment?"
Sebastian opened his mouth to retort, but Azazel cut him off, his tone sharper now.
"Your daughter—a mere 15-year-old girl who just received her grimoire—commands an infinite world of illusions. Illusions that manifest as reality. She has a seemingly godlike power that allowed her to weave a nightmare for Young Master Nacht, where every sense, every emotion, told him it was real. If he hadn't woken up, he'd never have believed it was just a dream."
Sebastian froze, his mouth halfway open, as the devil's point struck home.
"If a 15-year-old girl can do that," Azazel pressed on, "why couldn't something—or someone—far greater do the same to you?"
Sebastian tried to speak, but Azazel waved him off again. "I said no questions. I know what you want to ask, and I'll answer what I can. But first, let me finish."
Azazel's gaze hardened. "Does this world—the world of Black Clover—feel fake to you?"
Sebastian blinked, caught off guard.
"This world," Azazel continued, "that has grown far beyond the manga you knew. Does any of it feel like a lie? Acier, your children, the Agrippas, the Vermillions, the Fausts, Conrad, the kingdom—does any of it seem unreal to you?"
Sebastian shook his head, his voice firm. "But that doesn't mean Earth was a lie, either. They can both be real!"
Azazel nodded slowly. "Yes, they can. There are countless worlds and multiple versions of Earth across the multiverse."
Sebastian bit his lip, feeling the weight of an unspoken but.
"But?"
Azazel faltered, his gaze flickering. Then he pushed forward, his voice quieter but no less heavy. "But the Earth in your memory… was only ever a dream. A harrowing, yet fulfilling dream He wrote for you—or rather, for a small but pivotal piece of your soul—so you wouldn't fall into despair."
Sebastian's pupils dilated in horror as Azazel, sensing the overwhelming despair, offered him a semblance of consolation.
"For what it's worth," the devil began, its voice unusually soft, "your Aurora in that dream could be considered real."
Sebastian's throat tightened. He wanted to ask why. He needed to know how. Thankfully, Azazel anticipated the question.
"Before meeting Acier, your main drive in life was to avenge your sister—the sister you never got to meet. She was your anchor, your purpose to keep moving forward and not give up entirely."
Sebastian's eyes widened as Azazel pressed on, his tone almost gentle. "That child, your sister, died prematurely as a fetus. But at six months, she had developed a primary consciousness... and a soul."
Sebastian's breath hitched as Azazel explained, "He collected Aurora's soul fragments before Azrael could guide her to the afterlife and gave her a chance to live—as your sister, in that dream of yours. A chance to exist… until you woke up."
Sebastian's voice cracked, raw with emotion. "So you're saying I killed her?" Tears streamed freely down his face. "I threw her in a boarding school like a selfish bastard and then woke up, killing her, killing everyone else in that dream!"
Azazel didn't reply immediately. It wasn't a question—it was a lament.
"I couldn't protect her in this life," Sebastian continued, his hands clutching his hair in anguish, "and I was the reason for her undoing in that one! How on Earth would telling me that make me happy?!"
The devil's gaze lingered on Sebastian, unreadable, before answering in a matter-of-fact tone. "Because, at long last, she got a chance to live. A mere 14 years—but a chance nonetheless."
Sebastian grabbed his head as a throbbing headache took hold. "You're lying! You're lying! I'm nobody! I'm not some pivotal existence or protagonist people would target! Whoever He is, He wouldn't take an interest in someone like me!"
His denial turned frantic as he jerked his gaze to the floor. "That world, that life—it's not fake! My soul just… traversed worlds. Aurora is still alive, living her life!"
Azazel's eyes glowed faintly with a deep purple hue as the devil snapped, its voice rising. "Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern!"
Sebastian clamped his hands over his ears, but Azazel's words surged directly into his mind, undeniable and unrelenting.
"What is your name?!"
"Sebastian!"
"I mean your name—the previous you!"
Sebastian's eyes remained glued to the floor as he opened his mouth… only to close it abruptly, realization washing over him.
"You were about to say Sebastian, weren't you?" Azazel's tone turned mocking, edged with a chilling certainty. "Moreover, your sister in this life is also named Aurora. You share the same age gap, and your birthday in this life is August 15th—just as before. Face it: there is only Sebastian Silva!"
Sebastian's eyes filled with fresh tears as he vehemently shook his head, his voice trembling. "Get out of my head! That life was real, and I don't know how, but I reincarnated into this world—"
"People have to die before reincarnating!"
Azazel's sharp rebuttal froze Sebastian in place, his body stiff as a board.
The devil's voice lowered, ominous. "Do you recall dying?"
Chills ran up Sebastian's spine. He shook his head helplessly, his voice barely a whisper.
"No."
Azazel nodded, its voice gaining volume and gravity. "Your last memory in that world was falling asleep at your desk, studying—doing paperwork. And your first memory upon awakening in this world?"
Sebastian stilled, his voice breaking under the weight of realization.
"I… awoke at a desk. Doing paperwork."
"Precisely."
Azazel's tone softened, tinged with something approaching empathy. "That should have been your first clue—an inexplicable connection, a symbol. And if you disregard that, there are countless others."
"Once is chance, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern," Azazel repeated, his voice deliberate as he continued.
"Sebastian, what were you studying to be in your past life?"
Sebastian's gaze remained glued to the floor, his hands clutching his head. His voice came out hoarse and broken. "A doctor…"
"And what kind of mage was Sebastian Silva?"
Sebastian bit his lip, nausea churning in his stomach. "A healer… essentially a doctor…"
He clenched his fists, his voice rising as he fought back. "But I'm an attack mage! My grimoire is filled with different spells! I'm a different person at heart!"
Azazel's tone betrayed no surprise, as though he had anticipated the rebuttal. "First of all, one's nature can change. Your life in that dream was a constant uphill battle to create a good life for you and your sister. Even if you were studying to become a doctor, you were a fighter at heart."
The devil's eyes narrowed. "And even if that's not true, why did you feel no hesitation whatsoever in 'usurping' Sebastian Silva's identity? Your initial claim was that you were 30% Sebastian Silva and 70% yourself. Shouldn't this 'new you' have felt at least some apprehension in treating strangers as your children—and another man's woman as your wife?"
Sebastian bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, grasping at a retort. "But… what about the fusion? When I awoke in this world, my grimoire flipped, and the essence of Sebastian Silva ingrained itself into me! What about that?"
Azazel's voice was unwavering. "The bulk of your soul was left behind in your mindscape after Lucius chained your will— but the new you, the tiny fragment He cast into that dream—matured, grew, and became the new main essence of the current you. 73% you. Then, when the former soul, corrupted and nearly altered by Lucius' actions, returned, it filled the remaining void."
The devil leaned closer, his voice sharp. "Do you remember when you gained new spells in your grimoire? It was only after you acknowledged that you and Sebastian Silva were essentially one and the same. There was no new grimoire because you never transmigrated into a water mage's body. You shared that elemental affinity because you were always a water mage—this was always your body!"
Sebastian trembled, his tears staining the floor beneath him. In either life, he couldn't recall crying so pathetically. His voice cracked as he finally muttered, "What other coincidences are there?"
Azazel's expression was unreadable as he began to list them off, each fact landing like a hammer blow.
"Orphaned in both lives as your parents died early."
"You intended to raise your sister on your own in this life, just as you did in that dream."
"You essentially raised yourself in both lives. In this one, your parents' lavish spending left you without servants, forcing you to learn basic survival skills like cooking. In that dream, your parents traveled abroad constantly, leaving you alone."
"You pickpocketed in desperation for cash in that dream, and lived as a street rat in this life."
"You had drifted apart from your friends in that dream, and Acier your only friend in this one."
"Despite having biological family members within reach, you were alone in both worlds."
"Love eluded you in both lives. If not for Him, you and Acier would never have rekindled your spark."
"You weren't obese or particularly out of shape, but you never had an athletic physique in either life."
"You avoided trouble when you could, even admitting to cowardice, yet when the stakes were highest, you always took the hardest path to achieve results."
"You limited your inner circle in both lives, afraid of making bonds that might lead to betrayal or pain."
"You derided others for selflessness while quietly doing the same."
"Though not a professional, you were never helpless in crafts, DIY, or handwork in either life."
"You never met your grandparents in either life—they all passed away before your time."
"You had no biological aunts, uncles, or cousins in either world."
"The names of the most precious people in both lives start with 'A.'"
"Your meals were solitary, often eaten in silence, with no company at your table."
"You were never particularly religious in either life."
Azazel's voice grew quieter, almost mocking. "Should I keep going? I have a few more good ones."
Sebastian remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. The tears had stopped, his ducts dried out. His face was empty—dull, defeated, and lifeless.
Azazel's voice broke the silence again, this time not as a whisper in Sebastian's mind, but a physical sound echoing through his ears.
"Yet the one who controls Julius did."
"Huh?" Sebastian's head shot up, dazed and confused.
The devil's impish figure floated lazily in the air, its legs crossed, as it continued in a bored tone. "A response to your earlier rant about being some kind of nobody who wouldn't be targeted by higher existences. But you already know you were—by the one who shares a body with Julius."
Sebastian stiffened, his body rigid as stone. He stared at Azazel, dread pooling in his stomach. The chibi devil swayed slightly in the air, as if delivering this revelation was just another task to pass the time.
"You still haven't asked yourself, why me? Why did that guy target you, turn you into a monster, and then—why would He try to help you, to save you?"
Sebastian's nails dug into his cheeks, drawing thin lines of blood as he fought back a wave of deranged madness threatening to engulf him. Thankfully, the voice in his mind—the one that had drawn his attention to Aurora's name earlier—had gone silent. Without it, he might have spiraled into complete insanity.
Taking a moment, Sebastian summoned his mana, letting the cool water circulate through his veins to ease his nerves. Slowly, his breath steadied, and he asked, "Are you going to tell me?"
Azazel nodded, still in that same detached tone. "For simplicity's sake, let's assume you really did transmigrate into the world of Black Clover. That would make this a shounen world, correct?"
Sebastian hesitated but nodded. "Yes."
The devil floated closer, forcing Sebastian to lower his gaze slightly. "And among shounen works, Black Clover is a very… shounen, shounen—an amalgamation of many typical tropes and ideas, right?"
Sebastian nodded again, unsure where this was headed.
Azazel smirked and pointed a tiny claw toward him. "Now, would you consider your youngest child the female lead of this world? The go-to love interest destined to end up with the main character?"
Sebastian's brow twitched. No boys for Noelle. Ever. Suppressing his immediate objection, he exhaled slowly and relented. "From the perspective of the original work? Yes. Noelle would undoubtedly be the female lead."
Azazel's smirk widened. "And that right there is the biggest issue."
Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "How?"
Azazel read the unspoken question in his expression and pressed on. "Typical shounen tropes dictate that the female lead, especially if she's a princess or nobility, has a father who falls into one of three categories: a legendary powerhouse, a meek and inconsequential figure, or dead."
Sebastian rolled his eyes. "And what's wrong with that?"
The devil's irritation flared. "If you'd shut up and listen, I'll tell you."
Sebastian huffed but said nothing further.
Azazel continued, now with an edge of annoyance. "The problem is, you're none of those things—or rather, you couldn't be verified as any of them. Why? Because you were completely absent and unmentioned in the original work."
Sebastian froze. A sickening churn began to twist in his stomach as the pieces of Azazel's implication began falling into place.
Noelle Silva's father had long been hypothesized to be some archetypal cold-hearted, abusive noble. Yet, in the original story, he was barely a presence—little more than a silhouette and a single line that might have been spoken by Nozel instead.
If Azazel's claims were true—if Sebastian's previous life was nothing more than a dream and he had always been Sebastian—then whoever orchestrated that dream had been meticulous in its construction.
Perhaps He intentionally gave Sebastian a watered-down version of Black Clover to read, designed to nudge him toward specific thoughts and actions that aligned with His agenda. Furthermore, by omitting any mention of Sebastian in the original work, He may have been avoiding the risk of Sebastian resonating with that character, which could have triggered unforeseen consequences.
But then came the bigger question: why would Lucius—or He—target Sebastian in the first place?
Sebastian wasn't physically powerful in the grand scheme of things. However, his political influence, resources, and connections gave him the potential to sway the story's direction. In just 12 days, Sebastian had already changed so much. A "nobody" wouldn't have survived encounters with beings like Draven and Lilith—they would have killed him outright once they realized he knew the secrets of their Houses.
A "nobody" wouldn't have saved Conrad's wife and squad, forged a connection with Damnatio, won over Augustus, or initiated societal reforms that could reshape the kingdom.
Lucius likely wanted to stifle human progress, ensuring they didn't grow too strong and complicate his plans for the future. Manipulating Sebastian, the Lord of House Silva—long known for its cold indifference and disdain for commoners—was the ideal move.
He didn't need Augustus; House Kira was already adept at suppressing people. House Vermillion wasn't an option either, as their compassion and humanity would make any uncharacteristic behavior suspicious. But Sebastian? If he acted cold or cruel, it would align perfectly with the world's expectations of him.
Conversely, if He—this unseen benefactor—was in some kind of invisible war with Lucius, then freeing Sebastian from Lucius's control would serve a different purpose. By guiding Sebastian to lead and revolutionize humanity, He could strengthen the kingdom's ability to oppose Lucius.
Sebastian wasn't just a pawn on a chessboard. He was a contested piece, one that neither side wanted to remove but instead sought to sway.
The realization gnawed at him. Fate's strings tugging at his every move was one thing—everyone dealt with that to some degree—but to be meticulously manipulated into believing and doing certain things? That was far harder to accept.
Sebastian didn't trust his invisible benefactor. There was no chance this being was acting out of pure altruism. There had to be something in it for Him. Oddly, that thought didn't bother Sebastian much—he would have been more unnerved if this being had pretended to be a selfless savior.
What he couldn't accept, however, was the possibility that his future actions, believed to be of his own free will, might ultimately bring harm to the things he cherished most.
Sebastian narrowed his eyes. Good thing I haven't been overly insistent on following the "canon" I read in that dream.
The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. He felt nauseated even thinking of it as such.
Sebastian forced a shaky smile, his lips trembling as he looked at Azazel. The devil cocked his head, studying him with an impish curiosity.
"So, do you admit it now?" Azazel asked. "That you are Sebastian Silva, and there is—has only ever been—Sebastian Silva?"
Sebastian clenched his fists, the sound of cracking knuckles echoing faintly as he rolled his shoulders. "Do I have any other choice?" His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "With all that evidence, I'd be delusional not to."
The devil smiled faintly, scratching at his tiny, red cheeks. "And how does that make you feel?"
Sebastian leaned back onto the bed with a rough exhale, his head tilting up to stare at the ceiling. Small bursts of water mana cleansed his tear-streaked face, though they did little to cool the storm in his chest.
"Devastated... but also so very happy," he admitted, his tone heavy with self-loathing. "And that makes me disgusted with myself."
"Oh?" Azazel arched an imaginary brow and floated closer, his curiosity piqued. "Care to explain?"
Sebastian spread his arms wide, as if gesturing to everything around him. "All of this—House Silva, this beautiful family, Acier, and the kids—they're actually mine." His voice cracked, brimming with conflicted emotion. "That makes me so happy because…"
Now I don't have to feel guilty about returning her feelings.
As if on cue, the inner voice in Sebastian's mind spoke up, its tone hoarse and bittersweet:
You better never hurt her.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed, but he didn't respond aloud. If that voice truly was his inner self, it should already know he'd never even dream of such a thing.
Scratching his cheek, Sebastian shifted the conversation. "I've got a question."
Azazel sighed in irritation. "Didn't I say no more questions?"
Sebastian shrugged. "I'm only asking one. Whether you answer or not is up to you. Besides, I've already asked plenty despite your protests."
The devil's glare didn't stop Sebastian from continuing. "Why did you humor me? Why did you help me? And why didn't you tell Draven about me?"
Azazel paused, his expression tightening. His voice, when he finally spoke, was tinged with unease. "What He says is law. Even in my prime, I would never dare defy Him—except, perhaps, that one time Samyaza dragged us into his audacious sins."
He folded his arms, his tone growing distant. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it to keep Master Draven safe and, perhaps, to earn my way back into His good graces someday."
Sebastian narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. "If He's so powerful and at odds with Lucius, why doesn't He just wipe him out? Why rely on lowly humans like me?"
Azazel pursed his lips, hesitant. He seemed to be searching for some internal sign—a warning that he was stepping too far. When none came, he spoke carefully.
"He's... a bit of a zealot. That One has forbidden His angels from interfering directly with humanity unless humanity approaches them first or unless ordered otherwise. Until then, He won't make any moves that could be interpreted as harming a human."
Angels? Sebastian's eyes narrowed further. Had Azazel slipped up? He forced his emotions into check, masking his intrigue as he asked a seemingly unrelated question.
"Just like how there are ranks among devils, are there ranks among angels... like archangels?"
Azazel nodded absentmindedly. "Of course. There are eight of them. Well, six now, since Lucifer and Satanael fell from grace."
Lucifer, not Lucifero? Sebastian's suspicions deepened. He pressed on, carefully choosing his next words. "By any chance, does His name start with an M—"
Before he could finish, Azazel's expression shifted, panic flashing across his face. In an instant, the devil unsummoned himself, vanishing without a trace.
Sebastian clicked his tongue as he sat up on the bed, muttering under his breath.
"Coward."
The word escaped with a snort, carrying no real heat, just an edge of exasperation. Narrowing his eyes in thought, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
The world of Black Clover carries so many religious themes, Sebastian mused. Churches, crosses, priests, even the Kabbalah's Tree of Life.
Azazel's words lingered in his mind, and Sebastian couldn't help but suspect that the so-called "big boss" was connected to the angelic hierarchy. Two names surfaced as the most likely candidates:
Michael—the chief angel in Christianity—or Metatron, the greatest angel in many Jewish traditions.
The thought made him restless. Rising to his feet, he began pacing around the room, his water barrier shimmering faintly as it encased the space in an aura of protection. His shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion, but his mind raced with trepidation.
"Gods, minor deities, devils, angels, and humans… Is this still Black Clover?" he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Don't tell me we're heading toward some kind of divine war…"
He stopped mid-step, shaking his head as if to banish the overwhelming thoughts. "Whatever. That's a problem for future me... and a problem for the future Clover Kingdom."
Exhaling slowly, Sebastian turned his focus back to the present. "Right now, I need to do something about these memories. For that, I'll need to get in touch with Francois."
Returning to the bed, he reclined on his side, stretching his legs out while keeping the shimmering barrier firmly in place. His thoughts began to drift between planning for the days ahead and waiting for Dorothy to lead the others back from the Glamour World.
Despite the chaos of the day, Sebastian noticed a peculiar lightness in his chest. His world may have felt like it was crumbling, but for the first time since "waking up," he didn't feel out of place.
He smiled faintly to himself.
Not a bad feeling.
Author's Notes:
[1] Azrael is the arch angel of death in some abrahamic religions, predominantly Islam
[2] Samyaza is the leader of a group of angels called the Grigori or watchers, that fell from grace after defying several mandates of heaven. Azazel was a leading member
[3] Feel free to join the discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8ar
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