"Can I go home now?" Lilith dangled her legs on the edge of heaven's clouds. "All you do is plot and never act. I'm bored—and this incense is getting on my nerves."
"Home?" Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. "So that's what you call that world now?"
The demoness shrugged.
"Why not? That's where Konny is," she explained. "Plus, I'd be anywhere but here."
"I don't understand what you like in him." The angel shook her head. "You, and Lucifer, too."
"You don't have to." Lilith pouted, bitterness coloring her tone. "And that's rich, coming from someone proposing to him in front of a whole assembly. Knowing his soul is mine—"
"We've been through this," Michael joined, looking tired. "He needed her protection, to—"
"I can protect him, thank you very much." The demoness crossed her arms. "You're the one forcing him to risk his life without any help—and I can't even have my fun."
She tried to kick some clouds away, but they didn't budge like pebbles.
Flapping her wings only stirred the incense into an even thicker haze.
Why were they obsessed with it, anyway?
"You could have all the fun with him for all I care." Gabrielle shrugged. "But you'd warn him about the futures you saw—and I can't have you alter the fate of the world again."
"Which makes no sense," Lilith fumed, blowing at a cloud. "You want him to fight Maou—"
"In self-defense," Michael interrupted, "and without meddling too much."
"Counter-productive, if you ask me," she rolled her eyes, getting on her feet. "You should be helping him, not rolling more obstacles in his way—he could rule over that entire world."
"And that is exactly why we don't ask you," Gabrielle smirked. "It's all your fault, my plan was—"
"Mine?! Don't you mean that pathetic ball of regret in the corner?!" She pointed at Lucifer, curled up on a cloud, peeking out between his raven feathers.
If not for the threat of them ganging up on her, she'd have thrown a few punches.
"Blaming me, when it was your little brother who stole him from me," she fumed.
"I said I was sorry," Lu sniffled, "I can't turn back time."
"Your sister can," Lilith challenged Gabrielle, putting her hands on her hips.
"I can stop time; it's not the same." The angel pinched her nose. "Time travel is impossible."
"Uh-huh, so how did this Maou Midori guy go back an entire century?"
"It was an accidental violation," Michael interjected, face dark. "And the last thing I did before he banished me was patching that loophole so it won't happen again."
"As long as we keep him on that world," Gabrielle nodded. "But if he finds a seventh core—"
"In any case," Lilith sighed, "I want to go back. Konny's about to arrive in Eytjangard."
"Fine," the archangel rubbed his temple. "Gabrielle, you go, too."
"Don't want a babysitter," the ginger scoffed. "We were in the middle of something last time—"
"As long as you don't tell him about his future, I don't care," Michael shrugged. "My sister has a different task. You will intercept the Bishop the Church sent to Halaima, and—"
"Wow, what about no meddling?" The demoness raised an eyebrow—not that she disapproved.
"And through him, you'll contact the world's saints," the archangel finished. "If we warn them about the Demon Lord, they might get out of our way. But we can't force this matter—"
"You should be forcing it," Lilith noted, disappointed. "Or don't meddle with my fun, either."
***
Back in the Tower of Illusions, Konrad almost finished the Green Mage's codex about mana.
At least, the parts that Zoltan restored in the past week—the book was still incomplete. But it had given him a few useful insights. If he'd read it a week earlier—
The illusionist snuck up on him. "What were you thinking when you brought them here?!"
Or was he too deep in thought?
"You mean Father Alastair and Sister Stella?" The boy glanced up from the book, blinking to play innocent. "They'll be in your care while we sort things out in Halaima—"
"I don't care if they're close family or not," Zoltan fumed, making Konrad furrow his eyebrows.
"What do you mean, family? They're from the Church," he explained, realizing too late that his 'master' was kidding. "Oh, whatever, they'll be fine with the tribesmen—"
"No, they won't. The Black River tribe also has to go," the illusionist insisted, crossing his arms.
Konrad was reluctant to glance up from the book.
For one, it was too interesting; two, he was in a hurry, and three, it would have meant he had to deal with some crap. But since Zoltan kept looming over him, the boy sighed.
If Konrad didn't stand up to him now, that vinegar smell would never go away.
That was one thing he didn't miss, even after his adventure in the sewers.
"Why? The duke of Aset provided food and—"
"Lord Schwertburg had no idea about the tribesmen," the illusionist stomped his foot. "He thought you had a few slaves and that the village needed aid, but when his soldiers came—"
"Where are the Black Rivers?!" Konrad's head snapped up.
He left Eyna behind on a mission. If he had to tell her that her tribe was in trouble again—
"What do you mean, where?" Zoltan scoffed. "On the outskirts of Eytjangard. I made them invisible when the troops came. But it was still a pain in the ass."
The boy sighed, his heart rate returning to normal.
"Way to scare me, man."
He was about to keep reading, but the illusionist grabbed his shoulders.
"They must go," he repeated. "It was bad enough when Vargas found out about the illusions. If the Church gets involved too, they'll crush us the moment they realize the Green Mage is gone."
"Then don't let them find out," Konrad shrugged. "What are these weird notes here? It's a mess."
The codex had methods like those he had invented, and more.
It mentioned the cracks he found where mana seemed to pop in and out of existence, too. His hunch was correct. They were fractures where the different planes of existence overlapped.
But the writing got messy.
Random notes cluttered the margins—and Zoltan's handwriting was impossible to decipher.
"I copied as I found it," the illusionist leaned in, bringing that terrible stench closer, too. "It's like the Mage got obsessed with those details, but parts are still—Hey, don't change the topic."
"Can I see the original?" The boy got excited. "I also experienced something like this."
"No," his 'master' crossed his arms. "I want guarantees first. And you stink—"
Zoltan was the last person he expected to hear this from.
Well, it must have been true—he hadn't been able to take a bath since the sewers.
"You both stink," a familiar voice said, making his head snap up. "And what kind of man obsesses over books instead of visiting his lover first?!"
Lily, all fiery hair and freckles, stood in front of him, hands on her narrow hips.
He even thought about her on the long road to Eytjangard. But as they arrived, his desire for solutions had overwritten everything. And hold on—
Did she call him her lover? Or the other way around.
That was even better than magic—but when he took a step towards her, Lily held up her palm.
"No, take a bath first, and beg for my forgiveness." Her smirk was wide.