Chapter 2 — ss2
A few minutes earlier…
Inside the sealed conference chamber of Council 13, the space itself seemed to have been drained of light.
Thirteen chairs formed a circular arrangement—symbols of absolute authority—yet now only two were occupied.
The remaining seats were swallowed by darkness, like hollow voids waiting to consume whatever dared to exist within them. The light was crushed so thoroughly that the boundaries between ceiling and wall no longer existed. The room had become a solid mass of black, where even sound struggled to survive.
Two silhouettes sat facing each other.
Gender—indiscernible.
Age—unknown.
Only vague details could be perceived: the outline of a hand resting against the cold surface of the table, the subtle movement of fingers, and breaths so carefully controlled they were nearly nonexistent.
The silence stretched on.
Not an ordinary silence, but one weighted with political gravity, where every passing second functioned as a test—of patience, of dominance, of who would fracture the balance first.
Then—
A voice broke through.
It was unpleasant, heavy, distorted and crushed beneath layers of voice-modulation technology. The sound was warped beyond recognition, as though it had never been meant for human ears. It scraped against the listener's nerves, forcing a wince as if the sound itself were invasive.
The voice came from one of the two figures.
13_1
> I know that you already understand the situation… Sinner 20…
The name echoed through the darkness—not as an introduction, but as a statement of authority.
A brief pause followed.
Then, from the opposite side, another voice responded.
It was not human.
A dry, mechanical voice, generated by a synthesized reader—flat, emotionless, artificial. Clearly, the speaker had deliberately chosen not to use their real voice, despite sitting in the same room.
That alone was a declaration:
there was no absolute trust, even within the Council itself.
???
> I'll take that as a compliment…
I know. And I know very well, in fact…
You really are a clever old fox, 13_1.
I know why those communists from HCC
(Neo-Socialism of the Soviet Union — Неосоциализм Советского Союза)
were able to infiltrate GAM Headquarters…
Simply because we—or rather, the Council—interfered and remotely dismantled GAM's security systems…
Forcing GAM's forces into a defensive posture…
And creating the perfect opening for us, didn't we…
How devious…
There was no anger in the voice.
No overt emotion.
Only cold exposure of a conspiracy both sides had long understood.
The air in the chamber tightened.
An invisible pressure bore down on the space, as if the darkness itself were listening. Both figures understood that, at this level, every word was a weapon, and every silence carried intent.
Then—
The sound of "clap… clap…" echoed softly.
Slow.
Low.
Like applause from an unseen hand in the dark—not praise, but mockery.
13_1's distorted voice followed, lower now, more inscrutable.
13_1
> You're very perceptive…
And I also know you're fully aware of the Shibuya incident…
Including the fact that:
– Light Edison (Sinner 19)
– Sora Suzuki (Sinner 26)
– Lucas Smith (Sinner 27)
– Elena Windsor (Sinner 31)
are currently missing…
And that Alice Pendragon (Sinner 17), along with the entirety of Alpha 0, is now executing a rescue operation—
Before he could finish—
The mechanical voice on the other side cut him off instantly.
Not loudly.
Not aggressively.
Simply seizing control of the conversation, as if the speaker already knew what 13_1 intended to say—and refused to allow it.
13_1 fell silent.
The space now belonged entirely to Sinner 20.
???
> You're correct…
But it's incomplete…
I know what you've left out…
First: Team 9 of Alpha 13, under the command of Sinner 67, is currently carrying out the seizure of Longinus…
Second: a member of the Council has appeared in the Anti World, alongside Alpha 0, during the rescue operation…
And lastly—
the god of the Anti World… has returned.
After those words—
Silence.
Not emptiness, but a silence so dense that even the faint tapping of keys—normally imperceptible—now resonated clearly in the darkness.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Sinner 20 did not wait for a reply.
Because she already knew.
The synthetic voice resumed, slow and deliberate, as though reading out the verdict of a bloodstained political chessboard.
???
> And the reason you summoned me here…
Old fox…
Is because you want to prevent Longinus and Cassius from coming into contact, correct…
And at the same time…
You don't want to lose another Sinner…
Which is why you intend to deploy Delta 0's Team 11 to intercept Sinner 67, at any cost…
Honestly…
I understand your entire plan.
But I also find it greedy.
Because once it becomes war…
Losses are inevitable.
Applause echoed once more.
This time, accompanied by footsteps—slow, resolute—as though someone had risen and was walking away.
That silhouette vanished completely into the darkness.
Only Sinner 20 remained.
After a moment, she lowered her gaze to the surface of the table.
A sheet of paper had been left behind.
On it, a single word was written:
> "yes, But that's still not enough because even the mysterious child is important"
No signature.
No identifying mark.
But it was enough.
An acknowledgment.
A transfer of authority.
The plan now…
belonged to her.
In the deepest shadows of the conference chamber, the remaining figure stirred.
A pair of red eyes opened.
That crimson light did not carry rage—
but the premonition of war.
At the same time…
Anti World…
Inside an ancient temple that seemed to have been abandoned for centuries—
White stone pillars rose toward the shattered heavens,
their design reminiscent of ancient Greek architecture:
elegant, precise, and impossibly resilient despite the passage of time.
The floor was paved with alternating black-and-white tiles,
cracked, broken, and sunken in many places,
yet still radiating an oppressive sense of sanctity.
Stained-glass windows—once symbols of biblical churches long lost to history—
stood shattered along the walls.
Even in ruin, they remained eerily vivid
as the crimson sky of the Anti World poured its light inside.
Rows of pews lined the hall.
Many were collapsed, devoured by mold and decay,
yet the authority of the temple clung to them stubbornly,
as if refusing to be forgotten.
At the altar stood a massive bronze cross.
Rust consumed its surface,
yet something about it felt deeply wrong—
The cross was inverted,
lying beneath the altar rather than standing above it.
On the floor beneath,
a symbol drawn in dried blood formed an inverted star.
Around it, candles—long since burned out—stood frozen in silence.
And then—
Voices.
Prayers echoed through the empty space.
There was no one there.
Yet the air felt suffocating,
as if billions of unseen souls were weeping,
forced to recite holy verses against their will.
The voice sounded like that of a priest—
trembling, fearful,
reciting words he no longer believed,
driven by terror and despair.
At the same time,
a violet light began to bloom—
a stark contrast to the black smoke seeping into the temple.
Priest
> Monna, our Holy Mother, is the greatest of all…
She is the light that guides humanity through the darkness…
We bow before Her angels…
those entrusted with the duty of enforcing divine will…
And in this place…
Vocalos, bearer of the title Guardian of Love,
was granted a mission by the Holy Mother—
to deliver LOVE unto all living beings…
Please bear witness to our devotion…
The violet light intensified.
The ground began to tremble.
Cracks spread across the floor,
space itself seeming to collapse inward.
The temple shook violently
as the earth beneath it started to give way.
Outside,
massive fissures tore through the land.
Black smoke surged violently from the distance.
The sky began to shatter—
like broken glass raining downward—
revealing the truth behind it.
There was no red sky.
Only endless, lightless void.
At the same moment—
From a field once dyed crimson like blood,
the ground slowly turned green.
Soft, white feet touched the earth.
Six wings of pure white unfurled,
feathers shimmering like drifting clouds.
A flowing white mantle wrapped around a silk dress beneath it.
A balanced figure, approximately 168 centimeters tall, stepped forward.
Golden hair swayed like ripened wheat.
Eyes the color of fresh leaves glowed warmly with life.
Where her feet touched the land,
blackened soil turned brown,
flowers bloomed from vibrant green grass.
Dead trees regained their color.
Leaves sprouted from branches long thought lifeless.
Then,
a gentle voice filled with warmth—and faint disappointment—resounded.
Helen [Angel of Life]
> Vocalos…
This should end now…
I do not know where you are…
but if you can hear me—
do not continue this foolish act…
A soft sigh followed,
carried through the approaching black smoke.
Her voice returned—
still disappointed,
but now tinged with quiet acceptance.
Helen
> Your original duty was to bring LOVE to living beings…
not to preach faith.
That role belongs to the Seven Seraphim alone—
Life, Death, Time, Space, Earth, Moon, and Sun…
As the fractures grew more visible,
Helen raised her hand.
The pure white halo above her head began to rotate—
like a clock measuring the flow of life itself.
The blessings she had granted to the land were withdrawn.
Flowers withered.
Green fields returned to crimson.
Newly grown leaves trembled… and fell.
Helen vanished.
Only a single feather remained.
Then—
The surrounding space began to collapse.
Cracks spread violently in every direction.
The ground shattered and rose into the air,
torn apart by forces far beyond mortal comprehension.
This was destruction born of two gods—
The direct intervention of Lux,
and the indirect influence of Vocalos.
Heaven and earth fractured completely,
crumbling beneath countless ruptures.
---
[To be continued]
The secret revealed by the author: the author can be anyone, but not just anyone is the author :) meaning I am you, but you are not me :) kk I love you:?