"Your Highness, how much longer until they awaken?" An old man, full of anticipation, asked a black-haired, golden-eyed youth by a vast, tranquil lake that radiated pure, holy light. The youth, however, wore a look of impatience.
"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't know. This Angel Rebirth Pool isn't mine, so why are you asking me?" Muria replied, a trace of helplessness showing on his irritated face. "You're a Cardinal Archbishop, yet you cling to me like a piece of gum. Do you have no shame? Don't you think you're embarrassing the Church?"
"Not at all." The elderly man, who had lived for thousands of years, showed no sign of embarrassment. His thick skin was something even Muria found astonishing. "Your Highness, if you don't know, could you ask your fiancée? This is her Cloud City."
"I've already told you, my fiancée has had this Cloud City for less than ten years. She hasn't fully figured it out, and throwing the undead into the Rebirth Pool—there aren't many similar cases even among the Seraphim."
"But it's been ten years already. So many angels have awakened, yet why haven't these Watchers awakened?"
"Are you here just to cause trouble?" Muria shot a sideways glance at the Cardinal Archbishop. "The ones who've awakened first are the Gold-ranked Watchers, followed by the Soul-ranked ones. So far, only the Legends haven't awakened yet. Don't you understand why? The energy they need isn't on the same level as the others, so it's normal for it to take longer."
"But it seems like they're almost ready. They've even started forming human shapes," the red-robed Archbishop Asimeo remarked as he gazed at the calm Angel Rebirth Pool, where more than ten light cocoons floated, each containing a powerful humanoid figure curled up inside.
"But do you really need to come here every day to watch over them? Don't you have other duties to fulfill?" Muria was at a loss for words. By now, Synapse had already left the continent of Obistos and was sailing across the vast ocean, heading to the next subcontinent.
"It's not a problem. There are still teleportation arrays. It just costs a few crystals; it's not a big deal."
"No tabs or credit. The teleportation fees must be paid upfront." Muria stared at the Archbishop with a blank expression. The consumption of the teleportation array is proportional to the individual's power level—the stronger they are, the higher the cost. Someone like Asimeo, a Legend, would deplete even a small principality's treasury with his constant travels, potentially collapsing its economy.
"I still have that much money. After all, I've lived for over two thousand years." The elderly man chuckled, completely unfazed by Muria's harsh attitude.
"I don't understand how you can live so long and still be so impatient. In situations like this, just wait a couple of years. If you come back then, these angels might already be hatched. Running back and forth like this is such a hassle."
"I don't want to miss the moment she's reborn."
"There's something I think I should remind you of. Newly reborn angels, no matter what they looked like before, appear in their most youthful and vibrant state after reincarnation."
Muria examined the wrinkled face of the old man. "That means your lover will look like an eighteen-year-old girl when she's reborn. Do you really think it's appropriate for her to meet someone who looks as old as you? She'd be too polite even to call you her grandfather."
"I am indeed old." Asimeo looked at his hands, covered in dark age spots. As a human without any special bloodline, reaching Legend status and living over two thousand years was an exceptional feat. He hadn't used any special means to extend his life, so if he continued like this, he probably wouldn't make it to three thousand. He had already resigned himself to dying naturally in this state. He had even planned to join the Watchers, becoming one of them to stay with his lover. But then Muria intervened, dramatically altering his lover's fate.
"Crack!" A crisp cracking sound echoed through the air. Hearing it, the old man's attention immediately shifted. Over the years, he had witnessed countless Watchers transform into angels, breaking through their cocoons and being reborn. This sound was all too familiar to him.
In the old man's expectant gaze, a light cocoon showed tiny cracks that quickly spread. A golden-haired male angel broke through the cocoon and fell into the pool, causing ripples to spread. Following his instincts, the newly reborn angel stood up in the Rebirth Pool. After seeing Muria and the old man nearby, holy light began to gather around him, forming a pure white robe that draped over him, and six snow-white wings unfolded from his back—this was a six-winged angel.
"A Legend has successfully reincarnated?" Muria was also surprised at this sight. He had only recently made a breakthrough and decided to go out for a walk, bringing the Archbishop to Cloud City. He hadn't expected to witness such a scene.
"Who am I?" The angel, after completing his transformation, stood in the Rebirth Pool, his eyes filled with confusion. He had the mind of an adult but had lost most of his past life memories. Only a few fragmented memories flashed in his mind, making him even more perplexed. He was now an entirely new being.
"You were once a human hero, a Watcher willing to fight for humanity." Every Watcher reincarnated as an angel had their identity recorded. Following the previous agreements, an angel immediately approached, returning all the weapons, equipment, and personal belongings that this Legend had left behind, along with his life history.
These items would help the angel understand his origins, but they couldn't restore his past memories. To him, they were foreign, like reading someone else's story, even though it was his own past life.
"So, in my past life, I was a human hero." The six-winged angel, after reading the summary of his past, went from surprise to calm, with no more confusion in his eyes. He understood his origins. "Since I was a hero, I will keep the same name—Angus."
"According to the oath you made in your past life, whenever there is an undead disaster on the subcontinent of Obistos, you must go and help humanity resist the undead," the angel who had brought Angus his belongings reminded him.
"I will honor the oath I made in my past life. Now, I should go visit my master." The newly reborn angel had complete inherited memories. His mind had already been infused with the thought of pledging loyalty to Mikaela, a thought embedded deep within his subconscious, subtly influencing him.
"Newly reborn angels have no connection to their past lives. Even Legends are no exception." Seeing the demeanor of this Legend angel, the already aged Asimeo seemed even more hunched over. He had witnessed the awakening of countless angels, but he still held on to a sliver of hope.
But his lover was a Legend, and Legends were different from other ranks, so he always harbored a bit of wishful thinking that maybe she could retain most of her past life memories. However, reality gave him a harsh slap.
…
Ever since the Legendary Watchers began reincarnating as angels, this Cardinal Archbishop, who had lived for over two thousand years, spent all his time beside the Angel Rebirth Pool, not going anywhere. Even letters from his church reprimanding him were tossed aside, his stubbornness so intense that even Muria was impressed.
"This is true love!" Muria admired the old man's persistence. He had already learned about the man's past.
He and the female Watcher named Pamela had been childhood sweethearts, inseparable since childhood. In their youth, they were both discovered to have excellent cultivation talent and were brought into the Dawn Church together. They experienced everything together, growing and maturing side by side. In their youth, they had shared everything beautiful, and after hundreds of years, they both ascended to Legend status. Then, they faced the undead disaster.
All that was beautiful ended in that disaster. Pamela fell during the calamity, but her steadfast belief led her to choose to protect humanity and become a Watcher rather than falling into undeath. The old man was left alone to endure the long years, standing guard all by himself.
…
"Who am I?" A female eight-winged angel stood in the Angel Rebirth Pool, her eyes filled with confusion. In her mind, besides the inherited memories of an angel, there were also some very vague images—scenes of a girl and a young man with sharp eyebrows and bright eyes spending time together. "What are these?"
"You are Pamela, once a protector of humanity and one of the many heroes of Obistos." A female angel approached with some of the items left behind by Pamela, now the legendary angel, and handed them to her along with her life history, explaining the reasons for her birth.
"My name is Pamela." Looking at the glorious deeds of the human hero named Pamela from her past life, the newly reborn female eight-winged angel quickly accepted this identity. She chose not to take a new name and continued using her past name.
"Who are you?" After understanding the reason for her existence, the eight-winged angel Pamela prepared to visit her master. But just as she stepped out of the Angel Rebirth Pool, she saw not far away an old man in a red robe watching her, his body trembling slightly.
"I seem to remember you," the newly reborn angel searched her fragmented memories, finding a piece that included this sorrowful old man. This memory fragment carried with it a
deeply sorrowful emotion.
"I am…" The old man, hearing the angel's question up close, struggled to force a smile on his aged face. "I was once a comrade who fought alongside you, so it's natural for you to have some memory of me. I'm very happy to see you reborn."
"Oh!" Pamela nodded, suppressing the inexplicable sadness in her heart. She was about to leave, but inexplicably, her steps faltered. "There's something I want to ask you."
Pamela opened the small booklet recording her life's achievements and pointed it out to the old man. "Many things in here are unclear. I particularly want to know who this person is."
It was a very clear image—a girl who looked very much like the current eight-winged angel, and beside the girl stood a tall, armored young man with a radiant smile, his hand resting on the girl's shoulder, with a sense of cautiousness.
"He is Asimeo. He is no longer with us." The old man looked at his withered hands, suppressing the urge to pour out his emotions. His voice grew heavy. The tall and powerful Asimeo was long gone. Now, there was only an elderly man, bent with age.
These two were so similar; neither wanted to show their most vulnerable side to the one they cared about.
"And what was his relationship with me?"
"Friends."
"Just friends?" Pamela frowned. She felt it was more than that, but she didn't press further. It seemed she couldn't think of anything else to say to the old man, so she turned and followed the angel who had come to guide her.
"Fully reborn, just like when she was young." Watching the girl leave, the old man could no longer hold back his emotions, and tears blurred his vision. But as he silently cried alone, a slender figure appeared in his blurry sight.
Realizing someone was approaching, the old man quickly wiped away his tears and saw the slender figure standing before him. "Your Highness, why are you here?"
"I was curious. I wanted to see what would happen when the current you met your reborn lover who has lost her memories," Muria said openly, his curiosity unhidden. This was a true love that spanned a millennium, so he had specifically instructed his subordinates to keep an eye on this situation, which led to him witnessing the melodramatic scene that had just unfolded.
"Your Highness is quite interested," the old man responded dryly, realizing he had just been made into someone's entertainment.
"Why didn't you admit your identity? Are you planning to end things like this?" Muria asked with a frown, clearly displeased with what he had just witnessed.
"This is good enough," the old man touched his cheek. "To her, I would only be an unnecessary burden. In my current state, I'm no longer worthy of standing beside her."
"You're being ridiculous," Muria said, his face showing a look of exasperation.
"I'll be leaving now, Your Highness. I might come by often in the future, so I hope you won't mind me being a bother." The old man forced a stiff smile at Muria's displeased expression. He knew Muria wanted him to reunite with his lover, but he didn't have the courage to do so.
"Hey!" Muria suddenly called out to the old man as he turned to leave.
"Your Highness, is there anything else?" The old man slowly turned around, only to see a fist rapidly approaching him.
"Bang!" The seemingly delicate fist landed squarely on the old man's deeply lined face, breaking his nose with a spray of blood. The punch knocked him to the ground.
"Why did you…?" The sudden pain made the old man want to question him, but Muria cut him off without mercy. "Your choice is irritating. I prefer perfect, happy endings, and I despise tragedies."
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