Armin stood there, frozen in shock. His mind struggled to grasp the reality before him. Slowly, he forced himself to speak, each word laboring past his stunned lips as if dredged from the depths of disbelief.
"Why… Why am I here?" he stammered, the tremor in his voice a reflection of the turmoil swirling inside him.
The woman,The Goddess, before him, draped in golden radiance, smiled gently, her presence soothing yet imposing against the backdrop of undulating light.
[ You Died. And So, You Were Sent To Heaven. ]
His breath caught in his throat, a rush of confusion pushing through him. "But… I'm a demon. I shouldn't be here… I should be—"
[ I Know. ]
Her words sliced through him, a chilling confusion that gripped his heart tighter than any iron chain could."Then how—?"
[ You're Not Just Any Demon, Arminius. You Are One With No Veil Art. ]
At the sound of his true name, his gaze fell to the ground, shame washing over him like a cold wave. Ah. So, in the end, even this was due to his misfortune—a consequence of the destiny he had never asked for. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he bit back a surge of emotions. Curse whoever it was that had denied him power, that had branded him with a label he could never escape.
Curse whoever it was that derived of compassion even in the land of demons.
Curse whoever it was that made him a failure.
The woman's smile didn't waver despite his turmoil, and he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the contrast of her serenity against his inner turmoil.
Such a gentle and benevolent smile filled with warmth was infront of him for the first time ever and he couldn't help but feel absolutely scared out of his mind.
Demons have an hatred for almost all things holy after all.
But The Goddess was different. She wasn't the target of just hatred...she was the target of fear.
[ Tell Me, How Much Do You Know About Veil Arts? ]
He hesitated before responding, the weight of the question pressing down on him like a heavy stone. "Veil Arts are the power to bend the fundamental laws of reality. Some can be learned—like [SORCERY] or [IRON BODY]. But the strongest ones… those are unique to their wielders, forged from their very essence." His voice grew stronger as he articulated the only memories that seemed to burn brightly in this haze of confusion.
She studied him for a moment, a discerning gaze examining the depths of his struggles before her smile widened further, a look of approval dawning on her angelic face.
[ Good. At Least You're Not An Idiot. ]
His jaw clenched, frustration boiling under his skin at the backhanded compliment, but he remained silent, fuming inwardly.
'Did I just get roasted by deity?'
Then, the woman rose from her seat in the shimmering light, lifting her hands with grace. Light gathered around them, coalescing into a breathtaking tapestry woven with threads of gold—a magnificent image of the universe itself. The stars shimmered like gemstones, planets twinkled with life, and every swirling galaxy was intricately defined, revealing the beauty of existence.
The room darkened momentarily as the tapestry glowed brighter, pulsating with an ethereal energy that beckoned to the very core of his being
Armin was in utter awe. His fear temporarily overtaken by his curiosity and forgotten childlike wonder.
Then, with a deliberate motion of her fingers, the celestial display began to compress—condensing and shifting—until it became… sheets of paper? Armin stared in disbelief as the once grand ensemble transformed into something so mundane yet profound.
She held them up, an aura of certainty surrounding her like a warm embrace.
[ Look At This. ]
She gestured towards the stack of paper made of golden light.
[ Each Sheet Of Paper Is A Single Layer Of Reality. And The Space Between Them Is The Veil. ]
[ When Power From The Veil Seeps Into This World, Veil Arts and Mana Emerge, manifesting the dreams nightmares and wishes of those who wield them.]
Armin stood there, absorbing the immense knowledge flooding his senses. "Then why do I not have one?" His voice barely broke through the weight of his own despair.
If this Goddess had so much information.
Could she answer the burning question that tortured him for years upon years?
Was it because of a cursed family line?
The Demon Lord forbidding him his power when he was born?. Unlikely as he was already dead when he was born.
She was silent for a moment before responding, her gaze unwavering, as if searching for secrets within him.
[ I Do Not Know. ]
The words fell like stones in his heart, a bitter truth settling over him—a haze of his powerlessness, his worthlessness clinging to him like a persistent shadow.
But then, her voice cut through the air once more, vibrant and alive.
[ But… You Will Have One Now. ]
His ears twitched, curiosity igniting a flicker of hope beneath the layers of despair. He looked up, intrigue mingling with disbelief. "What?"
Her eyes met his, unwavering as the gaze of the dawn.
[ I Have Chosen You. ]
[ Arminius, As My Champion. The Hero. ]
His breath caught in his chest, momentarily denying the very air around him. His body stiffened in disbelief, disbelief transforming into a smear of panic and anticipation. "What is she talking about?"
"W-what? I am a demon! How can I be the hero?!" His voice quivered, the volume of his protests echoing in the transcendent space.
The Goddess only smiled, an expression of benevolent understanding softening her angelic features.
[ You Are No Mere Demon… From Now On, If You Accept It, You Shall Be The Hero. You Are...A Kind Demon...A Different Demon.]
Armin hesitated, the gravity of the choice hanging before him like a pendulum swinging between freedom and fate.
If he accepted, he would gain a Veil Art—an opportunity to wield power he had never experienced. But if he did… what would happen to his identity? Would he emerge as a champion, or would he remain forever haunted by his past? She was a holy figure, pure and radiant, while he was shrouded in darkness. How could they ever coexist?
His memories surged back—painful flashes of the past burned in vivid clarity, each memory sharp as glass against his heart.
Every moment of pain recounted itself, the taunts and jeers of villagers filling his ears, their eyes filled not with pity, not with love, but with seething hatred.
His mother's gaze, once warm and nurturing, now carried only cold rejection and resentment every time she looked at him.
The pain of being different, standing apart as a black sheep in a flock of demons that valued only strength. The ache of not fitting in, the unbearable loneliness twisting within his chest—a hollow ache no one would ever understand.
The tumult of emotions surged through him as he stood at the precipice of hope and fear. Slowly, he stepped forward, uncertainty battling against the current of determination that began to swell within him.
The towering angelic guards tensed, hands tightening around their ornate weapons, eyes sharp and watchful, ready to act at the slightest provocation. But the Goddess raised a hand, a graceful gesture that stopped them, her voice resonating like a calming melody in a storm.
Step by step, he ascended the golden podium, the radiant light of her robes, woven from the very fabric of light itself, illuminating the space around him, casting a glow that felt both ethereal and welcoming. Her golden hair gleamed, cascading like rivers of sunlight, and her flawless face—crafted as if from pure divinity—remained patient, an embodiment of faith and hope, waiting.
Waiting for his answer.
He stood before her, staring into her glowing eyes, the warmth of her presence wrapping around him like a blanket on a frigid night.
"I… accept." The words slipped past his lips, and as soon as they did, a thrill coursed through him, igniting a fire deep within.
End of Chaoter-5