Chương 71: Negotiations

It's four in the morning, and I'm eating some nice kobe beef all the way in Hyogo.

Of course, I'm not here to enjoy myself. I'm wearing the suit I've become quite intimate with for the past year or so, and my eating is slow and refined as I keep an eye on my guests. I feel awfully stuffy, and even the steak I'm eating is starting to taste like ash.

At least the wine is nice.

Across the table, two very powerful figures in the supernatural are seated, their eyes captured by the video being played on the large television just to my left.

One of them is Serafall Leviathan herself, dressed in that fine red dress she'd worn during our previous meeting. Her enthusiasm is as I remember it, but I can bear the wave of cheer with much more grace now.

The other is the general of Grigori, Azazel. Seemingly a handsome man, his hair a mixture of yellow and black, his eyes a piercing orange. He's dressed in a suit much like I am, though his wear is far looser compared to mine.

Of course, I give hardly any care to his appearance, instead drawn to the magic contained inside the general's body. His Light is a lot like Serafall's Demonic Energy in some sense—an uncontrolled pillar of bright white that desperately wants to explode towards the sky, just barely held back by the man's physical shell.

That, and his personality. Because dealing with one chatterbox is tiring enough, but dealing with two is even worse. And adding to that, the man is openly perverted, and happily parades his debauchery to the two of us. He tells story after story of all the 'fun' he's had over the centuries he's lived.

And horrifyingly, that'd spurred Serafall to join in, cheerily chiming in with a few stories of her own. Like, I really didn't need to know what Serafall likes to do when she's wearing her magical girl costume.

Granted, one is a Fallen Angel and the other is a Devil. This sort of thing is somewhat expected, really. But, still.

Thankfully, I didn't need to weather that for too long. Because right now, both are silent as they watch through the footage I captured on the Church's appalling underbelly. There's a morbid sort of fascination in their gaze. There is no fear, no pity, no anger, no denial. Just simple curiosity, and slight amusement over the irony of it all.

It's an expected reaction. They're beings that are hundreds of years old. They've seen many things in their lives.

A slight smile comes onto my lips as I take another slow bite.

As I've planned, I met up with Serafall and Azazel just around midnight. We'd hung around for a little while, talking and chatting as we ate our fill in this very expensive restaurant I've rented out for the three of us.

Once an hour went by, we began talking about the contract we're soon to share. Or, at least that's what the two thought.

Because before that talk could begin, I'd brought out my video recorder, and I told them to sit back and relax. They were confused at what I meant, and then fascinated as they watched me use Magic to send the video file straight into the large television hanging on the wall. The screen had flickered for a moment, before the nearly eight hour-long video began to play.

They've been enraptured ever since.

I can see the obvious questions in their eyes. Why am I showing this? How do I have so much dirt on the Church? What am I planning to do with all this? Am I trying to destroy the Church?

But I told them to wait. "It only gets better from here." Was what I said.

I'm not lying. The acts become more and more horrid the more the video plays, and the irony of it all grows along with it. It almost becomes comedic at some point—Azazel even let out a few laughs here and there.

By the time the video ends, the skies outside have turned blue. The television sputters a few more flickers before the screen fades back into pure black, and the room finally descends into silence.

I turn my eyes to my two guests, and for the first time, they look truly harrowed.

As I'd said, the footage only gets worse the longer it runs, and I'd saved the most horrendous for last. It was just a minute long, but that minute was more than enough.

Humans have always wanted to play god—to bask in the same glory of creation as the Father did in the ages past. Whether it be through delusion or firepower or knowledge or wisdom, any semblance towards perfection is looked upon in glorious light.

But what does it mean to play god in the first place, if the Father himself has died centuries back? How can the Christian God be perfect if he is dead?

In that last minute, I'd shown my guests the answer the Church has come to. The clergy had returned to the roots of mankind's sin, and they'd made an idol. Not one from wood or stone or gold, but from flesh and blood. Children from all manners slaughtered and stitched together with the same Light used by the Angels of Heaven.

The clergy has chosen to create their own god to put their Faith into. It hasn't worked just yet, but my eyes tell me that there's a chance that it'll actually come into fruition.

And it seems my two guests understand this as well. Serafall looks genuinely horrified at the twisted faces of the children that'd been stitched together, and Azazel's eyes are burning with vindictive anger.

I drink my wine to hide my smile. It's the exact expression I want from the two.

"...why did you show that?" Serafall asks, her voice soft.

"What might you mean, Serafall-san?"

"We're not idiots, kid." Azazel chimes in, his voice barely above a growl. "Why do you have this?"

I take another sip. "You've seen what I did before, didn't you?" I ask. They stare for a moment, confused, before Serafall's eyes go wide in panic.

"Y-You can't do that!" She shouts immediately. "You can't broadcast that!"

Azazel catches on as well. "That Magic…" He whispers, turning his eyes to the video recorded at the center of our table. He takes it, and quickly notices just how light it is. "This is a fake." He turns his eyes to the television. It doesn't have any cables. "You can broadcast it anywhere."

It settles in then. They can't destroy the video. The magic I'd used is something I call Broadcast—a spell to project memories as a stream of electronic signals, allowing it to be played on any screen.

And the room shakes as both Light and Demonic Energy floods the room. The supernatural world has always strived to keep itself separate from the normal world, and now that they realize that they can't destroy the physical evidence,

The only way to get rid of it is to kill me.

I can feel the force on my shoulders, pushing down against my bones and flesh. The legs of the chair I'm sitting on begin to break, the wood cracking underneath the unnatural weight.

Amidst all that, I smile.

And the world begins to tear as I push back.

Primal Energy and Ki rushes out from my body. They grapple onto Serafall's Demonic Energy, and begin to consume. Serafall gasps as she feels her strength suddenly fading away, and she tries to vainly pull back her energy before it all disappears.

Mana and Divine Energy pulse out, carefully weaving around my Primal Energy as bands of blue and yellow. It swirls around Azazel's light, and the permanence of Divine Energy weighs down on the limitless Light, shackling it with the stagnation of the divine. Azazel winces, and his six pairs of blackened wings are forced out from his back.

"That was mighty rude, I must say." I begin, and the room awashed by a golden glow as the Eyes of God comes to life. "This country is my home, my land. You are guests, and yet you still dare to try an attempt on my life?"

I glare, and the room twists as the wood morphs around us all, turning into thick vines, their sharpened edge pointed straight at their necks.

The golden glow becomes nearly blinding.

"But I am no beast." I say, and I pull my powers back into my body. The sharpened roots fade back into the walls, the golden glow vanishes, and I suppress a slight shiver from all the energy I gained from that single moment. "I will tell you." I smile thinly. "If you're willing to listen, that is."

Serafall gasps, finally managing to pull her Demonic Energy back into herself. She stares up at me, now fearful, and she slowly nods as she sits back down. My smile softens slightly.

Azazel grimaces. "Bloody hell, kid." He whispers, and he sighs as he drops himself back onto his seat. "You're just a mixed bag of secrets, ain't you?" He asks tiredly. I continue smiling, and he returns a wry grin. "Fine. Tell us."

"Let me ask you this then," I lean forward, and my smile turns impish. "If humans didn't exist, then where would the Devils and the Fallen be now?"

"We'd be dead." Azazel answers, still not quite seeing the point.

And he's right. The Devils brought their population back by reincarnating humans without restraint. The Fallen expanded their forces by recruiting humans with Sacred Gear.

Take humans out of the equation, and both races would've declined and perished.

"Yes, and so you refill your ranks by taking people who aren't yours." I say, scathing but not accusing. "But it's slow, isn't it?" I ask. "In your vigilance to keep the supernatural hidden, you're unable to fully make use of the resources of Humankind." I lean back, smiling all the while. "What if you didn't need to be so cautious?"

"It would be chaos." Serafall says, finally regaining her voice.

My smile only grows. "Is it not through chaos that you first thrived?"

"Society will fall." Azazel chimes in.

I turn to him, and my smile turns just a little threatening. "Humanity is far sturdier than you think." I tilt my head, and I let the golden glow from my eyes seep into the room. "And what gives you the right to claim that?"

"...you got me there, kid."

"Good." My smile drops. "And it's not as if we have the time."

With a flick of my finger, the television flickers to life once more, and a series of memories play out, each scene more damning than the last.

The Khaos Brigade, the Vampire Civil War, the Old Satan Faction, Evil Dragons, the Hero Faction, the True Longinus, and the Trihexa. All those threats laid out one by one, shown in excruciating detail, each leading towards the awakening of the Beast that the Christian God had died to seal away.

Of course, what I've shown isn't the complete truth. A lot of details are skimmed over, and some are outright cut off. I can't just show my hand that easily.

But it's true enough, and that only makes it worse.

The screen dies back to that uniform black, and once more, the room is cast in silence. Serafall and Azazel are both deep in thought. Although Azazel glances at me from time to time, an odd look in his eyes. It borders on longing, as if I remind him of someone he once knew.

"We don't have much time." I repeat. "Even without me, the world would've fallen into chaos." I close my eyes. "If that's so, then why don't we plunge the world into chaos on our terms?" Finally, I let myself grin. "And we'll profit from it. Just because we can."

"So we'll be war merchants. Just without a war." Azazel says as he rubs his chin, suddenly a lot more willing.

I shrug. "Not yet, at least."

He barks out a laugh. "That's true!"

I turn to the side. Serafall looks a lot more wary about it, but I can tell that she understands my point. "And Sona?" She asks, traces of ice threateningly spreading from her fingers. "What about her?"

I grin lazily. "She's a guest of Kuoh. She's under my protection."

And finally, for the first time in hours, Serafall smiles. "Then I'm okay with that!"

We spend the next hour hashing out details and contracts and so on. There's still some wariness in the two—the threats we'd flung to one another have still been said after all—but we jot down our future plans without much conflict.

And in just an hour, our contract is signed. There's a slew of details pertaining to our relationship, of our trade routes and future cooperation and so on. But, most important of all is the line that sits at the very top of our contract,

The Pandemonium is set to begin in a few months, just as summer break begins for schools all around Japan.

You know, to give me some time and all.

With that over, we promise to meet again in a week or so, and then we go our separate ways.