The centre of reality. The core of the universe. The fundamental, singular building brick upon which everything else was constructed.

There, atop the Throne, sat a single girl, her eyes closed, her hair like a vibrant rainbow, motionless, meaningless, without a single shred of emotion anywhere in her—

The largest city in the world, all of its walls white as snow and overflowing with religious zeal. The Citadel of Stars, Folis.

At its gates stood a veritable army of Heroes, their weapons and fangs bared at the intrusive ‘outsiders’, even though they were the ones who didn’t belong in this world to begin with.

Behind them stood the Pope, his eyes glowing a malevolent Gold as he stared at the demons who had gathered.

The Apostle of Slaughter.

The Apostle of Arms.

The Apostle of Destruction.

The Apostle of War.

The Apostle of Indiscriminacy.

Right at the centre of the Hexagram, they had gathered, ready to offer up the final sacrifice.

Kill the Heroes. Kill the Pope.

If needed, massacre the entire city.

In order to call forth their lord, send off the old world and welcome in the new.

It had long since fulfilled its purpose, and thus the world deserved a farewell. And what grander a farewell than the greatest person they ever could imagine?

Charlotte drew her blade. Tempest raised her arms. Lilith readied her spells. Davna unholstered her guns. Navillus spread out.

It was time for genocide.

“Entertain me, the five of you. Ahh, there is no need to hold back. Go at this with all your might…!”

Narrowing his odd-coloured eyes, the Lord of demons spectated the battle from inside his castle…

In the end, no normal hero could stand up to the combined might of the Apostles.

From the very start, they had always been a team. Under their Lord’s guidance, they worked together to fight.

An evasion tank at the frontlines, to minimise necessary healing. With her recent growth, she was able to forcibly direct the enemies’ attacks to her, which meant the enemy couldn’t attack any other members even if they wanted to.

Since she was soaking up all of the enemy attacks like a sponge in a bath of blood, that left her allies free to do whatever they pleased.

Two mages, to cast support spells and offensive spells intermittently. Magical shields to turn Charlotte into a sprinting fortress, and the greatest of attacks to murder anything, no matter whether it was close or far.

A mighty dragon to provide long-range support, and an omnipotent slime who could fulfil any role as demanded by the ever-shifting battlefield.

They were truly a supreme combination.

Within minutes, the Heroes’ frontlines were all but devastated.

But the Pope’s determination did not waver.

“Ah… Ahh… Lady Luciel…!”

Instead, he clutched his hands to his chest. Behind him appeared a figure, their face covered by a pitch-black hood and their body clad in tasteful, silver and gold-decorated armour.

And on their back sat three pairs of wings.

They wrapped their wings around the Pope…

And a sickening squelch sounded out. The Heroes, nearby, tried not to look.

Luciel’s assassin. The angel that had once killed the Hero known as Arthur.

Azazel.

The rumoured assassination squad of the church was, in truth, no more than this singular Angel.

After penetrating the Pope’s heart with their spear, they absorbed his essence.

And—

“AnGRa maiNyU—”

It lacked even a proper name. No desire. No craving to base its power on.

This was a hollow shell, an empty imitation. A fake.

“Let’s see how you deal with this…!”

The one who had given Azazel the order to do such… the Goddess of Light, empowered by Golden radiance, watched the battle, a mad grin on her face.

“No feelings, no bloodlust… I would hesitate to call this thing a combatant. ‘Tis more like an obstacle.”

The demon king heaved a sigh of audible disappointment at his archnemesis’s ultimate ‘trump card’ being nothing more than this.

“There’ll be trouble if you think you can defeat Asty’s knights with just that, y’know…~?”

Even the system error who had donned the disguise of GAME’s assistant was watching, her tail swishing behind her as her ears flicked in amusement.

And those ‘knights’, the five Apostles, huddled together, and then, moments later, separated once more.

It was time to follow their Lord’s order and hold nothing back.

The many souls offered to the centre of the Hexagram were already starting to wrench open the gates of hell. It was a slow process, but certainly, the demon king was starting to descend onto the world.

And with him, his Angra Mainyu—

Which, unlike those of his subordinates, appeared to be essentially limitless in duration, and was still active.

“Entertain me, the five of you.”

He repeated his command, his voice ringing across the battlefield like a clear bell.

“Ahh, there is no need to hold back. Go at this with all your might.”

The five Apostles moved out, stronger than anything else in this world.

“Aah, my Lord, thou art truly the very embodiment of beauty!

To thy splendour and thy darkness I could not hope to compare!

I swear, my Lord, I shall one day stand by thy side!

Yet for that sake, I must sprint, faster, faster, faster than anything!”

The first to respond was the Apostle of white, pure like freezing cold snow. The world’s fastest creature.

On their first meeting, he had broken her. Utterly and completely, simply by standing there.

“I mind cuts nor wounds. Though my blood may be spilt, my heart shall always be by thy side.

I cannot shine like thee… Ah, I shall never be able to shine like thee. But by my name, I swear—

I shall forever be thy ally, thy stalwart ally, striving to be by thy side!

Faster, faster, faster than anything, I shall sprint!”

But it was only because of the desire this crack in her soul gave her that she was able to release her full power. Without it, she would forever remain stagnant.

A combination of slaughter and maidenhood, forged in the fires of religious devotion and zealous faith, was the only thing that could allow someone to so blatantly violate the laws of physics.

“Since time immemorial, all who have gazed upon the sun have longed to feel its heat.

And yet, none dare reach out to touch it, for ‘tis simple for man to understand that overreaching would simply get one burnt.

And yet, I ask thee, why? Why, oh man, dost thou fear being burnt?

Is it the ugly scars? The pain of fire? Perhaps it is akin to the fear of death itself?”

Second came the Apostle of green, verdant like a forest of death. The world’s greatest inventor.

Her tone contained not a hint of emotion. This thing calling itself an Angel wasn’t worth her attention.

“Shallow, shallow, shallow. O mankind, thy desires are shallow.

If thou art so afraid of the sun, then surely, the flame in thy breast cannot be noteworthy.

Only those who can withstand the heat of the sun may possess the right to carry its flames.

Oh, Sun, I swear to Thee—I shall be Thy herald, Thy servant! So grant me Thy flames!”

But as her lord ordered, she had no choice but to eradicate it. He had granted her a way to fulfil her self-appointed purpose in life, and she intended to repay that debt and then some.

If she was told to kill this thing, she would just kill it. Had it been mortal, she would have tried to have some fun with it, but given its nature, it was unlikely to respond to any sort of stimulus at all, so a quick death was all it would get.

“Ah, magic, how beautiful you are.

More than anyone, more than anything.

Yet that beauty is, in the truest meaning, a double-edged sword.

Where there are many who would admire you, there are just as many who would take you for their own selfish ends.”

Third was the Apostle of gold, not dissimilar in hue to the very enemy they were fighting.

Having lost her family not once, but twice, she intended to cling to the few people she currently had with all her might.

“I have no wish to work, but for your sake, I shall endure.

Magic, I shall become your guardian, to protect you from the vile hands of those who would turn you against me.

Come, now, o magic, and allow me to protect you!

Until the end of time, I won’t let anyone lay their hands on you!”

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To hold on to what little she had left, she would gladly do anything. And currently, that ‘anything’ was very plainly in front of her as an enemy to defeat.

The simplest kind of task to fulfil. Orders were easier to follow the more specific they were, and it was near impossible to get more specific than ‘kill that thing and don’t hold back’.

“I know not my parents, or even their love.

Nay, I know not even one person of my own race.

Aah, and yet, ‘tis fine that way, I do not mind.

After all, though I may lack family, I have that person, and that alone is enough.”

Fourth was the Apostle of scarlet, like a blazing hellfire.

Unlike the golden Apostle, she had never even had a family to begin with. But this did not diminish the value or strength of her feelings.

“However, my heart yet overflows with boundless love.

And thus I ask ye, whom should I turn that love to?

The answer is, of course, naturally, without doubt, that person.

For that person’s sake. For that person’s happiness. To be with that person.”

On the contrary, it made her feelings stronger than they otherwise ever could have been. She was determined not to go through the same kind of pain that had shattered her beloved big sister’s heart.

Her love for her Master blazed in her breast like a crimson inferno. As he desired, she would use her fires to burn this piece of junk to a crisp.

“Ah, my beloved bluebird. Thy feathers, like the sea and the sky, are o so beautiful.

And yet, why? Why must thee be hunted so? ‘Tis unfair, ‘tis unreasonable.

May thy feathers shine, may thy voice carry across the oceans themselves.

Thou art truly so beautiful I would ask thee to remain, by my side, forever and for eternity.”

Finally, the Apostle of black opened her mouth.

Her Lord… no, not just him. Everyone had given her feelings and intellect, when she was supposed to be just a ball of instincts.

“All that would get in thy way is nought but trash, garbage, worthless nothings to be disposed of.

I would not have thee sully thy hands, o bluebird. That duty alone I shall take from thee.

Ah, world, if thee would cage my beloved birdie, then all that needs be done is for thee to end.

My beloved bluebird, I would not ask thee to sully thy hands, but please, allow me to clear thy path of rubbish.”

And finally, she truly understood what it meant to think. To feel. Those feelings were telling her one thing. Only one.

To do what her Lord wanted her to. What everyone wanted to. To kill this thing and erase its very existence, and offer what trace amounts of it would be left to her Lord as a final sacrifice.

“Amen.

As the Apostle of Slaughter, I invoke—

Stigmata of the Loyal—”

The five colours of power mixed, mingled in the air.

“Amen.

As the Apostle of Arms, I invoke—

Stigmata of the Mad—”

The vortex created by the sonic boom further amplified the fires of love.

“Amen.

As the Apostle of Destruction, I invoke—

Stigmata of Indulgence—”

The world was about to witness the full might of the Apostles, come together as one.

“Amen.

As the Apostle of War, I invoke—

Stigmata of Innocence—”

Obsidian coalesced together—if one looked closely, they could see the castle starting to form.

“Amen.

As the Apostle of Indiscriminacy, I invoke—

Stigmata of Growth—”

It was time for the Twilight of the Gods.

“Angra Mainyu—”

The five demi-gods, roaring as one, weakened the very fabric of the world, providing the fundamental building block for a later event.

“Daeva Buht!”

“Daeva Varun!”

“Daeva Niyaz!”

“Daeva Akatash!”

“Daeva Asto-vidatu!”

Destruction. Pure, unfettered destruction swept across the cosmos.

The main actors. The supporting cast. Those who were sacrificed along the way.

Every single participant of the drama was now gathered, standing atop the stage.

Amidst a flurry of passion and a torrent of zeal, it was finally time.

This thing was a poor substitute, but it could still serve a rudimentary role as a target for some of the Apostles’ feelings.

That very moment, the entire city was enveloped by flames, eliminating all oxygen and leaving no place to hide. What few Heroes remained were gone within the blink of an eye, reduced to ashes by the furnace of the crimson Apostle’s heart, which burned even the sky itself.

“Burn! Burn, burn, buuuurn! Ahh, just burn up and be reduced to nothing but cinders! Ahahahaha~𝅘𝅥𝅮”

Davna’s craving manifested in the form of an inferno that would allow absolutely nothing to escape. No matter how one fled or hid, she would always strike. The heat she was emitting far surpassed something like lava or magma, capable of melting the very canvas of the world itself.

This thing commanded an Angra Mainyu, just like she did… but already, her fire encroached on its territory, setting one of its wings ablaze.

Of course, she alone was the exception. She alone stood amid her flames, unharmed.

Indeed, even the other four Apostles were no exception.

“I shall cut thee t’ pieces…!”

Charlotte rushed forth at a speed that far surpassed the speed of light, twice, thrice, four times, five times…

The flames burned away her very flesh and bones, but so what? As her physical speed grew, so did the speed of her abilities. Wounds like these, she could just heal.

Her skin flaked off one second, but it grew back even before the rest of that second had passed, owing to a vampire’s absurd regenerative power. So long as she remained a vampire, no amount of damage at any speed could outpace her healing.

“Hmph. This much is nothing special… Now, I shall trample you underfoot…!”

Summoning forth her metal giants, Tempest simply took the damage head-on. To begin with, her own craving burnt her flesh and charred her skin. What was she going to accomplish if another’s flames could hurt her?

“Hmm~?”

Navillus’s craving fundamentally denied the existence of all she touched… so, to begin with, just by being there, she was protecting herself from all imaginable attacks. Attacks that originated from other Apostles were no exception to this rule. Of course it would have been practically impossible for her to destroy all the fire unless she wished to pick a one-on-one fight with Davna, but she had desire nor need to do that.

“Tch, pain in the…”

And Lilith, with her immediate command over all magic, could simply put up an infinite amount of guards and wards, shielding herself from the blazing heat as though it were simply the midsummer sun.

Whatever Angra Mainyu this Angel possessed, it was of no matter. In front of the five Apostles, it was nothing worth talking about.

Although, that said, it was not like all the feelings directed towards the thing were cold contempt and disdainful hatred…

No, there was a hint of gratitude in the whirlpool of raging emotions.

One of its wings was cut off. One of its wings was trampled by a giant.

If this thing hadn’t killed Arthur, and let him realise the truth…

One of its wings was obliterated by pure magical force. One of its wings was reduced to nothing.

Then the current iteration of Astaroth never would have been born, and the Apostles never would have met each other.

But this feeling of gratitude was weak. Oh so weak. Instead, much stronger was…

“Ahaha… ahahahaha… ahahahahahahahaha!”

The demon king could not hide his elation. This was the bastard that had killed him and slaughtered his allies, all those years ago.

And now, it was being mercilessly, without hesitation, crushed into a pulp…!

Together with everyone who lived in the city.

The king, who ruled from his despicable throne.

His son, who had a far better head than his father.

Even the cultists, a part of a plan that ended up being unnecessary after all.

And finally, Azazel itself.

All of it was offered to the Hexagram, the giant magical circle that covered the sky, and—

From a crack in space emerged the Demon Sword, clutching her hands together in prayer.