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Chapter 185 — An Angel?!
🕑 Added 2025-07-18 15:15:07 +0000 UTC“Demon? Me? No way!”
Nagami quickly shook his head at Ellen’s accusation, thinking of the innocent, slightly dumb demons from Gabriel DropOut.
“But calling me an angel? That’s probably more accurate.”
Compared to that one angel who lazes around in just her hoodie and panties, skipping school, addicted to the internet and games, even threatening to blow the world up over petty stuff… Nagami felt like he could definitely be called a little angel.
Demons? No way.
He knew himself well enough to reject that label outright.
‘Angel my ass…’ Ellen wanted to scream it.
What kind of “angel” uses this kind of threat?
Of course, she didn’t dare say the rest out loud.
Her tone dropped, not a trace of mockery left in it, and even her voice was subdued.
She had no doubt—Nagami would actually do it.
“So come on, Miss Ellen, make your choice already!”
The magic circle under his palm glowed a serene blue, releasing a chilling breeze that swept across her face.
It was oddly refreshing—if you ignored the situation entirely.
Nagami beamed down at her with a radiant, sunny smile—so bright it was downright sinister.
“I…”
Ellen’s body instantly stiffened.
She bit her lip hard, wanting to shout, “Do it! I’ll never betray Westcott!”
But when the words reached her throat, they caught there and never made it out.
She had fought countless battles—large and small—and usually stood victorious.
But this was the first time she had encountered such an absurd, bottom-of-the-barrel threat.
“You really won’t say it? Back home, we have these amazing substances. One’s called ‘medicinal balm’—a special kind of oil. Some truly elite veterans tried applying it to…
let’s just say a sensitive area. Judging by their expressions, it’s quite the unforgettable experience.”
Nagami held the glowing wind magic steady in his left hand while casually tossing his massive void sword into the sky with his right.
The royal seal of the Void Laws pulsed as the sword dissolved into silver-purple light, tracing a brilliant arc across the clouds.
It landed right in the chest of Mana Ouma—who was still toying with the artificial magicians below and merged with her spirit.
Then, as blue particles sparkled around him, something materialized in Nagami’s hand: a green bottle labeled in foreign word—something Ellen couldn’t understand.
“I think you’d make an excellent pioneer—the first in this world to try this little miracle.”
Demon.
He wasn’t a Spirit.
He was definitely a demon!
Ellen, pale as snow, shivered like a kitten left out in a winter storm.
Her violet eyes, usually sharp and proud, now brimmed with fear.
She stared at him with trembling lashes, lips tightly pressed together.
“You really won’t take me to Westcott?”
Nagami tilted the bottle and let a few drops of that fearsome balm fall into the magic circle, vaporizing it into the rising breeze with his Honkai energy.
He watched her with an almost lazy smirk as she froze, still as a statue, eyes closed tight, breath held in terrified silence.
“Three… two…”
As he counted down, his hand reached ominously toward the ruins of her shattered skirt armor.
“……”
Like a condemned soul bracing for eternal torment, Ellen stood frozen—until the expected torment didn’t come.
A long moment passed, and she hesitantly fluttered her eyes open, only to find Nagami… had stopped.
Was… was he sparing her?
Hope surged in her chest, enough to make her tremble with relief.
But then, as a few pieces of her broken combat gear fell away, she realized where this was going—
If this continued, the whole scene was about to turn into something straight out of an R18 forbidden doujin!
“Well then… seems like Miss Ellen still holds some value in Westcott’s eyes.”
Nagami turned his gaze to the horizon, letting the wind magic in his hand fade away.
“Figures. For a human, you really might be the strongest in the world. No way they’d throw away firepower like that.”
Surely no one actually believed he stopped because he couldn’t go through with it, right?
Ridiculous.
If DEM’s reinforcements hadn’t been en route, he definitely would’ve let that wind-infused-with-balm spell fly.
A man of his word.
A good kid always keeps his promises.
He’d never let himself sink to the level of someone like that slimeball Aether.
Ellen blinked at him, still shaken. “...What do you mean by that?”
“Oh, right,” Nagami replied, looking mildly amused. “Guess I forgot you’re currently at your weakest. Don’t worry—you’ll find out soon enough.”
————————————————————————
Elsewhere...
“Executor, Sir—Commander Ellen is at a disadvantage against the male Spirit. She’s collected partial data—his Angel is a unique greatsword, overwhelming in power.”
A synthetic magician stepped into the command room, voice strained with urgency.
“According to her last transmission, he might be the strongest Spirit she’s ever encountered. Also…”
“Teams A1 through A3 suffered massive casualties against Nightmare, the Nun, and the newly emerged pink-haired Spirit. Bondski’s unit is all but wiped out—”
It was clear Ellen hadn’t heard the latest.
Her comms had been destroyed during her fight with Nagami.
“Enough. I understand.”
Westcott slowly raised a hand, his voice as cold and hard as steel.
His dark eyes gleamed with madness as he stared at the screen—where the battlefield was barely visible amidst the chaos.
“Dispatch Artemisia. Have her pilot Latia and move immediately.”
“Also, command the nearest warship to Tengu City to mobilize. Hold position at the battle zone and await further orders.”
“Yes, sir!”
……
“I didn’t expect that Spirit to have this kind of interest in humans…”
From the bridge of the approaching Latia warship, Westcott—watching from DEM’s Japan branch—could clearly see his loyal subordinate suspended midair by Nagami, tied up in a rather suggestive manner.
Naturally, his first assumption was that Nagami must be some perverted degenerate.
But in truth, Nagami wasn’t even that old.
There was no anger in Westcott’s cold, murky eyes.
After all, this was a man who watched his entire village massacred by humans and rejoiced at finally having a reason to seek vengeance.
Rather than being upset about his old friend and most loyal subordinate’s humiliation, the scene only fanned the flames of his thirst for revenge—turning them into something else entirely: pure exhilaration, and a dark, destructive desire.
“Artemisia, prepare Latia’s main cannon for full-power firing,” Westcott said, his voice disturbingly calm.
His expression even bore a gentle smile—but the chilling menace behind it sent waves of fear through the nearby artificial magicians.
It was the kind of coldness that froze the soul.
“Albarald, channel all available magical energy into Latia—every last drop.”
The Latia was an airborne warship—DEM’s fastest and most powerful assault craft.
Sleek and deadly, it was Ellen’s personal vessel, known across the organization as their strongest flying warship.
Comparable in size to the Fraxinus—the ship Kotori and her team operated—Latia sported a streamlined frame clad in platinum-white armor, traced with elegant golden lines.
It was as beautiful as it was deadly, and unlike the Fraxinus, it boasted power that could surpass even the mightiest of warships.
But such overwhelming power came at a terrifying cost.
Only top-tier magicians could pilot Latia.
Even a single minute of operation was enough to drain the life out of a lesser mage, leaving them a vegetable.
That was why the one at the helm now was none other than Artemisia—the second strongest magician in the world, right below Ellen.
She was also Britain’s top trump card in the fight against Spirits.
In contrast, the second warship—less flashy but still a fully equipped capital-class destroyer—was outfitted with a main cannon capable of wiping an island off the map.
“But… Executive Officer,” Artemisia hesitated, concern flashing in her bright blue eyes as she studied the map. “Even Latia will overload if we push the main cannon to full power. And there’s a city—Tenguu City—just nearby…”
The voice of reason came from a girl who was still only eighteen—a young blonde prodigy, beautiful and deadly.
Her tone wavered slightly, betraying her hesitation.
“Artemisia.”
Westcott’s voice remained level and cold.
“Don’t fixate on that. Behind that male Spirit, there are three others. If we strike now, there’s a chance we’ll take all of them out in one blow.”
A shadow passed through Artemisia’s sapphire eyes.
Her greatest wish was the annihilation of all Spirits, believing it was the only way to bring peace to the world.
“And remember—A-Squad is buying us time with their lives. Are you going to let their sacrifice be for nothing?”
His words were gentle, almost a whisper—but they landed like the final straw on a weary camel’s back.
The hesitation in Artemisia’s expression vanished.
