The Demon Against The Heavens - 226 Pseudonym and Iblis

A ray of light blinded the armour, which, when it was able to re-open its eyes, looked around, speechless. He took the black helmet off his head and put it under his arm.

Two deep, dark-brown eyes, stood out above a pointy nose. A look full of irony struck Pseudonym, together with a pearly smile.

A boy with a black fringe stood before Orma’s greatest legend, his arms crossed over his chest. Iblis looked at Pseudonym and inhaled deeply.

“From here on you have two choices,” he slowly explained. “Choice number one: you can go your own way. You are on this path on your own, you don’t owe me anything and no regrets are allowed. Choice number two-”

“Wait a minute,” said Pseudonym, “why am I here? And where are we?”

He kept looking around, amazed. They were in a narrow street in a city that the Champion did not remember ever seeing. The passers-by, busy in their daily lives, paid no attention to the child and the armour in front of him They were very far from Orma, far from the Goblins’ terrifying, far from every conflict.

Iblis looked in amazement at the city around him: “Can’t you see? It is a completely normal and peaceful city. It is located more or less within the central area of the Nation. Taking your talent into account, I think it’s the best place to decide where to go. Besides, nobody knows you here. You can have a new life without problems.”

“Why don’t I have the Slave Seal anymore? Only an Immortal could have removed it. And how did you teleport us here? ”

Iblis looked at the person in front of him as if he were a brainless idiot.

“Helial asked me to do it!” he exclaimed, as if it had been the most logical thing in the world. “He got some information from the Merchants Guild that should never have been disclosed…”

Pseudonym shook his head, thinking of Helial.

“What else did he know?” he asked.

“He knew that your talent would be wasted in Orma and that there would be no future for you there. After learning that you were a slave he asked me to give you freedom,” Iblis commented, bored, making two chairs and a table appear in the middle of the street, complete with tea and biscuits.

The passers-by immediately began to protest, but after Iblis snapped his fingers, the time around him and Pseudonym stopped.

He quietly poured hot tea into a pumpkin-shaped cup and blew on it.

“And you decided to free me and give me a new life? Do you really need the Immortals of Orma to be your enemies?”

Iblis raised his eyebrows, troubled by all those questions.

“This won’t be a problem, don’t worry,” he replied briefly, focusing on the hot drink.

Pseudonym sat helplessly at the table.

“Helial will have to face the Prince of Darkness without me,” thought Pseudonym, frowning.

A trail of steam continued to rise from the tea in Iblis’ hands. There was no answer.

Looking at Pseudonym’s face, Iblis parted her lips slightly and raised his hand.

In an instant, the black steel armour, which had by now become Pseudonym’s second skin, was reduced to ash.

Pseudonym got up immediately, almost knocking over the table. “What have you done?!”

“You don’t need it anymore.”

“Who the hell are you to say what I need and what I don’t?!”

Pseudonym had now understood that the child had to be an Immortal, or something quite similar, but he could not hold back his anger. He had lost his temper in a split second. That armour had accompanied him for most of his life, it was really too important for him.

“I would say What the Devil, but I don’t think you can still afford to ask such questions,” yawned the greatest Devil ever existed in the whole universe. “Ah, yes, yes, I know, let’s spare me your story. I read your memoirs. Your parents were morons, end of the flashback. Failures who thought they should keep you hidden.”

As he tapped the tea spoon on the table, all the equipment appeared a few minutes earlier disappeared.

The boy took two steps towards Pseudonym, who had just realized he could no longer move.

A ladder materialized in front of the child who, with all the calm of the world, climbed a few steps to reach the height of the Pseudonym’s face.

“You mentioned a second choice, didn’t you?” growled the legend of Orma.

“I can bring you to Jeanne,” yawned Iblis. “Considering your talent, she would surely be more than happy to take you under her wing and train you. After all, you’ve already picked up her Legacy and used it very well, so once you get past Immortality, you could become one of the greatest warriors of Destruction.”

“Jeanne?” Pseudonym’s pupils dilated.

“Jeanne, the Black Phoenix,” said Iblis, “you should have received her name along with her Legacy.”

Pseudonym was not convinced of what the boy was telling him. It was Iblis who had given him the set of Phoenix Techniques, it had been him!

Pseudonym was almost sure, but he still had some doubts. True, he had received Jeanne’s legacy when he reached the Temple of the Black Phoenix, but the key Skills to develop his Blood Legacy had fallen upon him at any moment, without him realizing it. Perhaps that was only a dream and he was still sleeping in the rotten straw of Orma’s prisons, next to his parents.

Pseudonym fell to his knees, while Iblis made the ladder vanish and returned to the ground with a small jump.

Clap

The Devil looked around a bit. With a snap of his fingers he brought up a black umbrella with lace edges and a pair of short breeches appeared on his legs. A pair sunglasses stood out on his face, hiding his pitch-black eyes.

“A little tourism,” he shrugged.

“You can send me to Jeanne?” said Pseudonym, still incredulous.

“Yes, but there is a condition,” Iblis yawned. Without waiting for him to ask for more, the boy added: “For several reasons, revealing my presence, or Helial’s, to Jeanne could create a devastating chain of events. Our identity, at least for now, must remain secret.

I could seal your memory, but with such a powerful seal, you could be mistaken for a spy and be subjected to several tortures. Or, in the worst case scenario, a little friend of mine might notice the remnants of my Aura.”

Iblis was deep in thought. He put his hand under his chin and frowned, then continued: “As much as I don’t care if you end up lobotomized, the other possibility worries me. So, the only option for you to meet Jeanne would be to completely erase your memory of me and Helial. I will create parallel memories and once we leave Orma I will alter the course of the history of the capital of the Goblins. This way, no one, not even Jeanne or anyone investigating your past, will ever know anything about us.”

Pseudonym rolled his eyes. “Losing all the memories of Helial and you?” He did not expect conditions to be so simple.

Iblis nodded slowly.

Suddenly, the boy’s eyes lit up and a smile made its way onto his face. He looked at the undecided face of Pseudonym and, very calmly, asked him: “So, have you decided?”

Pseudonym replied to his smile with a mortally serious look. His eyes tried in vain to penetrate the depths of Iblis’ soul, to understand what that child really wanted from him.

“So?” Iblis asked again, a little impatient.

The Champion of Orma nodded and parted his lips, ready to communicate his decision.