After Guy finished explaining Skills, the hall did not relax.
It got sharper.
The round table felt less like a meeting and more like a sealed court—cut off from the outside world, cut off from escape. The prepared drinks sat untouched, as if even raising a cup would be interpreted as weakness.
Atem's presence anchored the room. Not loud. Not aggressive.
Just absolute.
He looked around once—Guy, Milim, Ramiris, Leon, Luminous, Dagruel—and then spoke in a plain, controlled tone.
"To add to Guy's explanation," Atem said, "angelic Skills were built with a control circuit inside them. A chain-of-command structure. If the circuit is compatible with you, you cannot resist an authorized order."
Dagruel's mouth curled into a grim look.
"That's a pain," he muttered. "A system like that means even the strongest can be made into a puppet."
Luminous's eyes stayed cold.
"And the most troubling part is this," she said, voice low. "Velzard-dono… is on the enemy's side."
The word Velzard made the room tighten. Even those who didn't show fear became careful.
"And Velgrynd-dono as well?" Luminous added, watching Atem's face. "Or was that also part of Michael's reach?"
Atem didn't dodge it.
He didn't flinch.
He answered like a king delivering a report to his generals.
"Velgrynd was affected. She is not anymore."
Ramiris's wings twitched.
"So you freed her?"
Atem's gaze stayed steady.
"I removed what was inside her."
Guy's eyes narrowed slightly, not in mockery—more like calculation.
Leon cut in before the conversation drifted into reactions and emotion.
"Velgrynd doesn't matter right now," Leon said sharply. "Not as a priority. What matters is this—we verify whether anyone else here carries an angelic Skill. If this control circuit exists, then any hidden holder is a risk."
That landed hard.
Because the meaning was simple:
Trust is now a question we must prove.
Guy's expression didn't change, but the room could feel his approval.
"Leon," Guy said, "I was hoping you'd say it."
He didn't sound amused. He sounded relieved that someone else was willing to speak the poison first.
"This is the real reason I called all of you," Guy continued. "Once suspicion exists, it spreads. The only way to prevent it from turning into paranoia… is for the people at this table to declare their hands."
Milim's eyes flicked across everyone, sharp as a blade despite her usual energy.
Ramiris swallowed and forced herself to sit upright.
Dagruel leaned back, arms heavy, as if the chair was too small for the weight of the topic.
Atem didn't move.
He simply watched, letting the others speak—because that was leadership too.
Dagruel broke the silence.
"Wait. You're not suspecting me, are you?"
Ramiris quickly raised a hand.
"It's fine! You've been excluded from the start!"
She spoke fast, like she was afraid hesitation would make her a target.
Atem glanced at her—just a glance—and Ramiris steadied herself, almost like his attention alone forced her spine straight.
Guy nodded once, acknowledging the point.
"Ramiris is a special case," Guy said. "Her existence doesn't follow the same rules as angelic inheritance. Her power isn't a 'received authority' the way these Virtue Skills are."
Ramiris tried to laugh it off, but even her laugh came out tense.
"Wahahaha… I'm different, okay? I don't really understand my power—"
Milim tilted her head slightly.
"Don't worry about it," she said. "Ramiris is Ramiris."
No joking. No teasing. Just certainty.
Then Milim glanced toward Guy and said the next part like it was obvious.
"And if there's anyone here who would've already been targeted… it would've been Atem."
Atem did not react.
But the room did.
Because everyone knew why Milim said that.
If a system like this existed, controlling a king like Atem would be the highest prize imaginable.
Luminous's lips tightened.
"And yet he sits here untouched."
Leon nodded once, then looked directly at Dagruel.
"Next," Leon said. "Dagruel. State it clearly."
Dagruel's gaze swept the table slowly.
Then he spoke in a rough voice that carried the weight of ages.
"I don't have the same relationship with Skills as you do."
A pause.
"I was born with my power. Like Ramiris."
The room fell quiet.
Milim studied him for a heartbeat.
Then spoke first.
"I believe you, Dagruel."
Leon didn't argue. He watched Dagruel's aura the way a veteran watches a blade.
Then Leon said simply:
"…I will trust you."
Ramiris immediately nodded like she'd been holding her breath.
"Me too! I'll believe you too!"
Guy didn't comment. But his posture loosened by a fraction.
Only Luminous looked irritated—more annoyed than suspicious.
"Tch. I'd love to drag him into a test circle and crush him until the truth falls out," she said, coldly. "But fine. I'll accept it."
Dagruel snorted.
"Natural virtue," he said, voice like stone grinding. "Too bad for you."
Luminous's eyes flashed.
"If you're being manipulated, I'll laugh at you for being that weak."
The hostility was real—but so was the strange trust inside it. The kind built from centuries of conflict where you learn what the other person actually is.
With Dagruel cleared, the table narrowed.
Guy had already declared his own: Pride King Lucifer.
Luminous had already declared hers: Lustful King Asmodeus.
Ramiris was exempt.
Milim was… Milim.
That left one person that mattered most.
Atem.
Leon turned toward him—not accusing, not challenging, but demanding clarity because leadership required it.
"Atem," Leon said, "state it."
The room held its breath.
Not because they doubted him.
Because his answer would define the level of danger they were actually in.
Atem's voice was calm.
"I do not carry an angelic Virtue."
Guy watched him closely.
"And Michael?" Guy asked, careful with the wording.
Atem's eyes hardened slightly—not anger, not threat, but a reminder that some lines were not crossed lightly.
"Michael is destroyed," Atem said. "I erased him."
Ramiris exhaled sharply, relief flickering across her face.
But Atem didn't let that relief grow into comfort.
"However," he continued, "the system is not fully gone."
That single sentence froze the air again.
Luminous narrowed her eyes.
"Explain."
Atem's gaze moved to the center of the table, as if placing the truth there like a piece on a board.
"Michael's control depended on two things: a controller, and an imprint."
He raised one finger.
"I removed the controller."
Then a second finger.
"But the imprint remained—in at least one target. Velzard."
Dagruel's expression shifted.
"So she's still affected."
"Yes," Atem said. "Not controlled the way she was before. But bound by residual authority that cannot be dismissed by simply killing the source."
Leon leaned forward.
"So the command circuit exists… and Velzard is stuck in a loop that was etched into the Skill itself."
Atem nodded.
"And there is another concern."
Everyone listened.
Atem's tone stayed level, but the meaning behind it made the room feel colder than Guy's frozen palace.
"Michael may not have been the only mind behind this. He may have been the tool. Or the spear."
Guy's eyes sharpened.
"You're saying there's a hand behind the hand."
"Yes," Atem replied. "A mastermind who understood angelic architecture well enough to allow a Skill to evolve into a weapon… and to keep damage alive even after the weapon dies."
Milim's voice was quieter now.
"Who?"
Atem did not guess. He did not throw names for drama.
He spoke like a king who refuses to gamble with uncertainty.
"I don't know yet."
Then he added, and the words struck harder because they were simple:
"But we will act as if there is one."
No one argued.
Not Guy.
Not Leon.
Not Luminous.
Even Dagruel stayed silent.
Because if Atem—who had destroyed Michael—still said we are not safe, then the danger was real.
Guy finally spoke, voice controlled.
"So we proceed with verification, with monitoring, and with containment."
Leon nodded.
"And we isolate risk points. Velzard first."
Luminous's eyes were dark.
"If she moves, we die."
Milim's fist tightened.
"Then we stop her."
Atem's voice cut cleanly through the tension, finishing the thought with finality.
"If Velzard threatens Eterna," he said, "I will end it."
It wasn't arrogance.
It wasn't a boast.
It was a verdict.
Guy looked at Atem for a long moment. No teasing. No smirk.
Just respect—and something closer to caution.
"…Understood," Guy said at last.
The table stayed silent.
Outside the isolated hall, the world continued to burn in places.
But inside, the truth had been set:
Michael was dead.
The system remained.
Velzard was proof.
And somewhere, possibly, a hidden hand was still moving pieces.
Atem sat perfectly still at the center of that reality—like the only fixed rule left in a world that kept breaking its own laws.