"No—please, don't go!"
Campbell jolted awake from his vision and instinctively reached out, desperately trying to grasp the angel before him. Yet no matter how far he stretched, his hand felt as though it were separated from her by thousands of feet—forever out of reach.
Regret and self-loathing swallowed his heart whole. His voice grew hoarse, trembling with urgency.
"Please… give me strength! I'm willing to give everything I have—everything—as long as I can save my wife with my own hands!"
For a long moment, the angel remained silent.
Then she stopped.
A faint smile curved her lips.
"The contract is sealed."
She turned back toward Campbell. In her palm appeared a mirror suffused with mysterious light. His reflection surfaced within it.
Campbell froze.
Within his own eyes burned an inky black sun—perfectly round, deeply embedded in his sockets, twisting the shape of his pupils into something utterly inhuman. That black disk pulsed slowly, radiating a terrifying, heart-pounding presence.
"God has already granted you power,"
the angel said softly.
"Hasn't He?"
Her smile deepened, as if gently mocking him—as though telling him that he had never truly faced the abyss before, and thus had never awakened what lay within.
"Feel it with your heart.
Use it to cleanse this world of filth and sin.
Let the guilty burn in the blazing judgment of the Black Sun."
"God has forgiven your past…
and bestowed upon you the authority to judge."
Before the final word faded, the angel raised her hand.
A colossal black sun surged forth, swallowing Campbell whole.
In an instant, his consciousness was burned clean—and violently expelled from the cyber dimension.
"Haaah… pretending to be a divine messenger is exhausting."
Angewomon let out a long breath, wiping nonexistent sweat from her brow before patting her sore cheeks.
She patted her chest and muttered to herself, "Good thing I didn't slip up…"
Streams of glowing data flickered nearby. A familiar figure stepped out from the flowing code, her form solidifying behind Angewomon.
Kiwi laughed softly.
"You were terrifyingly convincing," Kiwi teased. "If I didn't know your real personality, I might've believed you were actually a divine envoy."
"Hmph! I am a proper messenger of God, thank you very much!"
Angewomon bristled, eyes wide with indignation as she reached out and pinched Qi Wei's cheek, shaking her vigorously.
"Tsk, tsk… you're really getting carried away," Kiwi sighed helplessly as she struggled free.
But then again—who could blame her?
This angel had grown up in the cyberpunk world.
When Campbell finally regained consciousness, an indescribable power flooded his body—vast, violent, and inexhaustible.
He staggered to his feet and looked around in confusion.
Then he noticed it.
Above every passerby's head floated a number, glowing in different colors.
Curious, Campbell focused on a green digit and instinctively reached out.
The world blurred—
A vision unfolded before his eyes.
A man stealing a wallet.
A practiced motion.
A familiar crime.
So that was it.
These numbers recorded a person's sins.
Most people bore nothing but zeroes—clean, untouched. Others carried small values. Campbell quickly realized that the darker the color, the heavier the crime.
Then he saw it.
Numbers engulfed in black flames.
His scalp tingled.
Robbery. Murder. Arson. Human trafficking.
Pure, unfiltered evil.
Rage surged within him.
Each burning number represented a destroyed life.
As he stared at them, the anguished cries of victims echoed in his ears. Their suffering replayed again and again—overlapping with his own memories.
"They must face God's judgment."
Justice and fury intertwined, turning Campbell's eyes bloodshot.
He bent down and picked up a sharp stone, his gaze locking onto a man whose head blazed with black-flamed numerals.
Silently, he followed.
At some point, thick black mist crept up his body, wrapping around him like a living cloak.
It devoured his presence.
No footsteps.
No breath.
No scent.
He became a shadow.
A ghost.
When the sinner turned into a deserted alley, Campbell struck.
Bang.
The stone smashed into the back of the man's skull. The body collapsed soundlessly.
But Campbell did not stop.
Again.
And again.
And again—
Until the black-flamed numbers finally dissipated.
Only then did he rise.
His expression was cold. Resolute.
"I am God's apostle," he whispered.
"The executor of judgment upon this earth."
"If the law cannot punish sin…
then I shall deliver judgment from the shadows."
"Amen."
Darkness surged forward, swallowing the corpse whole.
And Campbell vanished into the night—
walking the path of judgment he had chosen himself.
⭐ Enjoying the story?
You can read ahead and support the translations by joining my Patreon! Your support helps me update faster and take on more projects. Thank you for reading!
Read up to 50 chapters ahead!
patreon.com/AminaSims