Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 887 - 452 Peace of Mind

The former enemy appeared within his mind, without a physical form, untouchable, yet this once-angel would certainly not remain idle inside Lyle’s body. After such a long time, the dormant enemy surfaced again—would he bring revenge, or something far more perilous? However, Lyle remained indifferent to it all.

"Mr. Gallaron, are you my enemy?" The sun shone warmly, a gentle breeze blew, and the lighthearted atmosphere left no room for tension to take hold. Most importantly, Lyle couldn’t sense any hostility. He effortlessly accepted the reality of the Blood Angel’s cohabitation within his body, his beating heart continuing to pump its usual supply of blood.

[I was killed, my independent existence eradicated—do you think that’s not enough to make me angry?]

Lyle saw the Specter Maid feeding the Mercury Snake by the lakeside. Bathed in sunlight, the spiritual entity and the alchemical creation shimmered with a glass-like texture, appearing remarkably beautiful.

"Ever since I advanced to the Five Locks, I’ve become very attuned to malicious intent, Mr. Gallaron. The feeling you give me now is like that of a glowing crystal, so pure that it hardly seems like a normal lifeform. By now, you’d qualify as a Holy Spirit, wouldn’t you? Besides, didn’t you just explain earlier? You appeared because you were too hasty, mistakenly thinking I needed a priest."

"Should I interpret that to mean your mind has become like that bygone Crusader leader?"

[That I used to compare you to a corgi—was it poor judgment, or have you grown, Lyle?]

Gallaron’s presence began to intensify. Though nothing stood beside him, Lyle could distinctly feel the man’s presence as if he were there.

[As a leader among angels, my expertise revolved around human vitality—recovery, self-healing, regeneration, even immortality. At the moment when I was consumed by the Omen, I infiltrated your mind. Back then, I was still that bloodsucking Fallen Angel, and my purpose for lurking was merely to corrupt your soul and seize your body. But you made a bold decision, one that changed the Gallaron Loshutar residing within you.]

[When Posuwa drained its malicious intent, you absorbed all the concentrated malignance lingering on that land, using divine grace to form a core of malice within your heart. The malevolence flowed through your body, passing through where I lay buried in your soul. The maliciousness that tainted me was also drawn away by this pull—in simple terms, you baptized the Blood Angel.]

[You extracted the malice from my heart, that malice which led to my fall, transforming me into a bloodthirsty monster. You purified me, granting me the release I had longed for. This kindness is beyond repayment, Lyle Butler. I am willing to become your vassal, to offer you what little strength I have.]

"...Mr. Gallaron, does this mean you’re planning on overstaying your welcome?"

[Intruding freely into another’s soul is a disgraceful, depraved act of a Fallen One, and my current power isn’t sufficient to reconstruct my body.]

"I could craft you a soulless body..."

[Derived from a corpse, correct? The desecrated fruits of Spirit Summoning Skill—I refuse to use them.]

"...Mr. Gallaron, are you really not going to dwell on our entanglements in Degonris?"

[Little Butler, you are my benefactor. All I wish is to repay you to the best of my ability. Clinging to your body is merely a last resort. Besides, I admit I have some selfish motives to observe you—you are extraordinary. Raymond and George care deeply for you, you share a close bond with three of the Four Angels, and you are tied to the Holy Light.]

"I was also hunted by Raphael."

[...Are you certain you don’t want to convert to the Holy Light? Raymond is immensely talented but poor at teaching, while George is somewhat foolish and presumptive. I could humbly offer my services as your guide. It’s no exaggeration—before I became a Crusader leader, I was an excellent evangelical pastor.]

"Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Gallaron." Lyle declined converting to the Holy Light as he had countless times before. Sensing Lyle’s resistance, Gallaron deftly changed the subject. He was a talkative and humorous man, especially when teasing his angelic brothers. Poetry, architecture, sculpting arts, ancient customs, and elaborate rituals—Gallaron could bring these topics to life. Even discussions on research into Spiritology could draw his commentary, making Lyle feel that this Angel of Water was akin to a scholar from the Holy Light’s domain. Oh, he also harbored favoritism towards monsters, a protector of small creatures...and dragons, no less.

[Justice will not fall, Lyle. The greater the adversity we face, the firmer our beliefs should become. Not in blind devotion to the Holy Light or any other supreme entity, but in loyalty to what our hearts cherish.]

"Even when the Holy Light is dimming, and angels are falling en masse? Mr. Gallaron, once a defector from the Holy Light, why are you now so full of faith in the situation? You don’t strike me as the type to believe blindly without considering reality."

Unseen and intangible, the will of the Angel of Water radiated brilliance like the blazing sun within Lyle’s perception.

"Because I trust. I trust my own strength. I trust their strength. My brothers will not fall so easily—they are beings who have endured throughout human history, leaders of that species-obliterating conquest. No one understands the power of the Holy Light better than I."

"And soon, you will understand too, Lyle. You will understand the power of angels."

"Because you are the one closest to being an angel in this world."

He dissolved into a mist, or perhaps drifted away on the clouds. Gallaron’s presence vanished, and Lyle once again felt himself return to solitude. Yet he sensed Nia outside the door, eagerly arriving to push it open.

[We’ve been cut off.] The Omen processed Lyle’s newly acquired insights.

[Your mental state resembles that of post-brainwashing, or the end of psychological counseling.] The Deep Sea Omen retracted its tendrils, resuming its lazy state after confirming its host was intact.

Alianna stepped into the room as Nia rubbed her face against Lyle’s, shoving and nudging. Alianna opened the curtains, holding a patterned ceramic bowl.

"We visited Mr. Ralph earlier. He’s been overwhelmed by the recent public panic in Naranya, but he looks fine. He sent this for you—he says it’s a hometown dish."

Lyle froze for a moment, accepting the bowl while muttering, "Hometown dish? His cooking’s worse than mine. At least I can make proper soup."

Peeking into the bowl, he found himself questioning the stretch of calling this a soup. The clear liquid, barely distinguishable from water, carried a few overcooked spices, steaming faintly. Despite its appearance, the aroma stirred an unexpected hint of nostalgia.

Lyle looked up and met Alianna’s beautiful eyes, clear and transparent, completely mystifying him.

"Did Uncle Ralph say anything? Express dissatisfaction or issue a warning for me to remain humble and frugal?" Considering this was all he prepared, Lyle couldn’t help but suspect the intentions of the wily wolf.

"Originally, I also brought back honey cakes and baked apple pie prepared by Aunt Verlet."

Lyle waited silently for the twist.

Alianna patted Nia’s head.

"But I also brought back Nia, who didn’t leave any crumbs of those rose cookies."

"Nia and Lyle are one! If Nia eats, Lyle eats too!" Nia cried out dramatically, slipping out of Lyle’s arms in a flash.

Lyle shot her a glare and downed the bowl’s liquid in one gulp. The taste washed over him, making him recoil as he stuck out his tongue.

"So salty!" He now understood why "hometown dish" had miraculously survived Nia’s appetite. Its rock salt, sourced from Cassandra’s homeland, carried a fishy tang imbued by the dreary weather of the region. Lyle typically used no more than a sesame-seed-sized grain of it. He could vividly picture Ralph Butler’s liberal seasoning, likely distracted by playing with Nia to bother refining the flavor—Lyle wouldn’t actually die from consuming it, after all.

Alianna handed him a glass of water and patted his back gently, consoling him, "Uncle looked quite dashing while cooking."

"Just good looks," Lyle remarked after rinsing out his mouth, then added, "Though it wasn’t terrible."