Chapter 44: Ziffnel, the Angel of Love VII (part 1)

“This filthy devil—how dare you use your wicked tongue to tempt Brother Julius!”  

A girl bathed in pink.  

No—calling her lovely would be wrong. Not with that twisted, ghost-like face contorted in fury.  

Julius Tapnel and Krail Raynell.  

Thalia, the representative of the angel of love, had been raised by Brookin and Emily, two humans blessed by angels. Now, she unleashed her flames toward the woman before her, her own heart gripped by unbearable fear as a chilling dread seeped into her veins.  

Her two brothers, once unwavering against any temptation, had derailed.  

Not only had they participated in unsealing the Emperor’s Nightmare—the great evil of legend—but they had also handed over the body of Cecil Lionelta, the woman who had stolen Julius’ heart.  

The pink-haired girl recalled the gray-haired man with a mischievous smile, absent now, and spoke through gritted teeth:  

“…Next time we meet, Brother Krail, I’ll beat you to the brink of death.”  

Life was never fair—only roughly, moderately tolerable.  

Shoving the pitiful image of the man into the darkest corner of her mind, Thalia turned her gaze to the devil glaring at her with murderous intent, black magic energy swirling before her eyes.  

Cecil Lionelta.  

A woman both enchanting and ominous.  

She had walked under the sun, whispering love to Julius, while he smiled—never faltering. Even when he seemed to dislike her, they had looked like the perfect couple.  

He had looked happy.  

That was why Thalia had buried her unspoken feelings deep in her heart, praying for their happiness.  

‘Cecil Lionelta is already dead. She died five years ago.’  

But that happiness was an illusion—a lie crafted by the devil.  

An ancient evil dwelling in the corpse of a dead woman, the Emperor’s Nightmare.  

Brother Julius’s eyes were already lost, stolen before anyone could act.  

The face of the woman he loved, that hateful tongue whispering false affection—  

Ziii-iying! 

A shrill ringing pierced her ears.  

Her vision blurred. 

For a moment, she saw her father’s mutilated body, her mother drenched in blood, laughing madly—no, the devil wearing her mother’s face.  

No. No!  

If this continued, Brother Julius would die.  

Brother Krail would be torn apart. 

Priest Emily, Priest Brookin—all of them would be lost!  

The image of her father’s c0rpse twisted, replaced by the faces of everyone she held dear. The representative of love bit her lip, swallowing the rising nausea.  

“…Don’t you dare show that filthy body and those disgusting eyes in front of my husband again!”  

The woman who had once been the picture of elegance in Kente Village now summoned dark power from the shadows at her feet, her ferocity unrecognizable.  

Like ripples on a lake, black energy spread in concentric circles, swirling like a child’s playful splash.  

Thalia focused on the devil before her, summoning her meager divine power in an explosive surge.  

The power of love.  

[Infinite.]  

Her black hair, always true to its color, shimmered as her pink locks flowed like cherry blossoms in the wind. 

Then—  

A fist lashed out.  

“Die! Just DIE!”  

Cecil screamed like a petulant child, but the force behind her strike was monstrous.  

“Tch—so the devil finally shows her true face!”  

Thalia barely dodged the blow meant to crush her skull, the displaced air whipping past her. Wrapping sacred flames around her leg, she kicked Cecil square in the waist, sending the delicate body hurtling to the ground.  

Had the sacred flames purged the devil?  

No—  

The devil’s lips curled as she whispered a vile incantation:  

“Devour that annoying bitch.”  

Colossal Serpent—Larnhill.  

An ancient serpent, famed for swallowing a mountain whole.  

The devil, summoned from the realm of dreams, thrust its maw back into the mortal world. Though not large enough to consume all of Aran’s outskirts, it could easily swallow a woman whole.  

Thalia glared at the false serpent charging toward her, then—  

She stomped.  

Pink flames erupted, incinerating the abomination.  

Cecil, landing gracefully in the void, watched Thalia’s movement and bit her lip.  

That stomp—it reminded her of Julius.  

Logically, she knew Thalia had learned combat from that woman called Renelle as a child. But to Cecil’s maddened eyes, even this was a taunt—a provocation.  

“…Tear her apart, Tarnhill.”  

The ancient devil, Pulsating Evil, emerged from the shadowy swamp at her feet. It had once devoured the King of Earth Giants, annihilating his entire race. 

Slowly, it crawled toward Thalia—  

Then, in an instant—  

BOOM!  

A colossal fist, moving faster than sight, hurtled toward Thalia. Her body locked in terror, her divine power flickering out—  

But the young inquisitor, her black hair whipping back, intercepted the fatal blow.  

Cecil gave no respite. 

Cloaked in dark energy, she tore through the air and appeared before Thalia.  

“I hate you. No—I despise any woman in a skirt who dares stand before Julius!”  

Madness. 

Obsession.  

Even now, with power nearing godhood, fused with a legendary devil, her sleepless fears haunted her: What if he leaves me?  

Just as she had once purged the noble girls smitten with Julius in the capital, she would destroy this nuisance too.