A silent chaos.
Perhaps that was the best way to describe the air that now surrounded the once lively party hall. The mood already became sour when Pontiff Tartys arrived, and even more when he used his power and authority over Bishop Bezios.
But this? The people didn’t even know whether they were allowed to look at what was happening right now in front of their eyes. The only one that even dared to move was Maria, who rushed towards her husband as he was completely drenched with all the food on the table he landed on.
She was also the only one that dared to breathe a sigh of relief as soon as she checked that her husband was still alive. But finally, after that… she finally realized the situation they were in.
Van just attacked a Pontiff. Van, who was currently pretending to be their son. She could probably plead to Pontiff and tell who Van was– but at this point, even if they said that Van was threatening them, there was no way they would get out without a scratch. No… they would be lucky to even keep their lives.
It wasn’t only them– everyone in the hall was now at risk of losing their lives. Because not only did Van attack Pontiff Tartys, he humiliated him in front of everyone as he did the very same thing Tartys did to Bezios… covering him with wasted food as he violently rolled on the ground several times.
“Interesting.”
It took a few more seconds of silence, but Pontiff Tartys finally stood up– patting away all the dirt that was stuck on his white, immaculate robes.
“I wonder how much you had to pay to have an offspring like this?” Tartys then looked down at Maria even from afar, “One might even think you got him illegally.”
“…” Maria, however, did not even look at Tartys as she focused on her unconscious husband; she wouldn’t even know what to answer anyway. Although religious groups or anything related to idolizing deities was banned in their entire society, the Pontiffs were quietly considered as walking gods.
How could they not be, when they came from the lineage that killed their previous god?
Even if Tartys is considered the weakest among the three Pontiffs, he was still a pontiff. He could probably kill all the people on this planet in a single breath if he wanted to.
And now, that breath was about to come.
“You do know what you’ve done, child?” Tartys continued to brush off the mess on his robes as he slowly made his way back to Van, “There are no rules in regards to hitting a Pontiff because we are above it. Above all of it.”
“Were you there when the Seraphs were forced to run away?”
“Seraphs… As expected of the son of the wealthiest man in all the vessels,” Tartys scoffed as he also looked down at Van, which was fairly easy because of their height difference, “It would seem you were offered the finest of education for you to know the deepest parts of our history.”
“…”
“Are you perhaps a fan of those little birds?” A wide smile then very slowly crept on Tartys’s face, “Sadly, my ancestors were the only ones present during the Angel Migration. It happened hundreds and thousands of years ago…
…but the Holy Grail has allowed me to inherit their feelings– and it was glorious.”
“I see,” Van’s eyebrows began to furrow.
“But what happened after was a funny twist of fate, don’t you think?” Tartys then suddenly burst out in laughter, “The seraphs that migrated to another universe ended up being killed by another set of false gods. Could it be you gained some sort of inspiration from their tragedy, boy?”
“Their tragedy led to my tragedy,” Van closed his eyes as light slowly emerged from all the pores of his body, “You, the systellions, me… we’re a plague that devours everything.”
“An activist. Again, as expected of the son of the wealthiest man in all the vessels. You have all these ideas in your head because you never had to work a day in your life,” Tartys’s eyes started to squint as he watched the white light forming around Van’s body, “They really did some illegal modifications on you– you… have the same scent as us.”
“Pft.”
“You find that funny, boy?”
“My daughter is older than you, boy,” Van then said as the light emitting from his body soon took the shape of several wings that formed behind his back,
“And yes, I do find it funny.”
“Y–”
And before Pontiff Tartys could even finish his words; all of the people in the party hall watched… as an arm suddenly went through his chest. And before any of them could react, a sudden gale exploded and rippled throughout the entire party hall– blowing all the food away and almost causing some of the lighter guests to tumble.
None of them cared, however, as their eyes remained glued on Pontiff Tartys. How could they not be, when a scene that shouldn’t exist now presented itself to them. A Pontiff, kneeling on the ground– his already dirty white robe, now drenched in red.
The scene was so surreal that none of them really knew what to do anymore. It wasn’t until one of them lifted her arm, capturing the scene with the implanted camera in her eyes that everyone else started doing the same.
“W… What?” But of course, the most perplexed of all was the one who actually had an arm penetrated straight through his chest.
“I honestly thought you’d be stronger.”
Pontiff Tartys’s head very slowly turned towards the owner of the arm; only to see Van the one now looking down on him.
“But then again, everyone keeps saying you’re the weakest of the Pontiffs,” Van then said as he casually pulled his arm out of Tartys’s chest,
“But I guess… that’s one down.”
***
[But I guess… that’s one down.]
“Pause it. When was this?”
“A week ago.”
“And you’re only showing it to me now?”
“You said I should return when it’s convenient.”
“…”
In a dark room only lit up by the specks of light that danced inside it, the two other Pontiffs, Eremiel and Irin, were watching a hologram of the moment that Van killed Tartys.
“Who is this little boy?” Eremiel breathed out as he pushed Tartys’s figure away. He then circled around Van’s hologram, looking at it from head to toe.
“Bishop Bezios’s son,” Irin answered as she too, stared at Van’s figure; the linear tattoos on her face, lighting up as she did so.
“I see… Bishop Bezios,” Eremiel sighed as he placed his hand on his chin.
“…You don’t know who that is, do you?”
“No. No, I don’t,” Eremiel shook his head before fixing his silver hair; which seemingly almost turned to the color of the galaxy as he brushed it, “And what was Tartys doing there in the first place?”
“I do not try to think of the actions of an idiot, Eremiel,” Irin let out a sigh as she leaned closer to Van’s face, “That’s why I don’t dare ask what you think.”
“Hm… wait, did you insult me just now?” Eremiel furrowed his eyebrows.
“No,” Irin quickly shook her head,
“So, what do you want us to do with him?” She then pointed at Van.
“Nothing?” Eremiel let out a short but deep sigh as he waved his hand, causing all the images of Van to disappear, “Let them play out whatever this is.”
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“A Pontiff was killed, Eremiel.”
“…And? Our ancestors also died. That is life,” Eremiel shrugged, “We don’t interfere with the lives of the people, Irin.”
“He has Tartys’s mind drive.”
“…Why didn’t you start with that?” Eremiel’s breaths then started to change as he finally looked at Irin, “It’s time to celebrate.”
“…”
“What? You were also thinking about it. Tartys’s lineage is pathetic.”
“…I’m leaving.”
And with that, Irin just rolled her eyes as she exited the dark room– stepping into a bright hallway without any windows. She then raised her hand, summoning another hologram image of Van on top of her palm.
“Just…
…who are you?”
