At such a ti—
A thought suddenly surfaced in his mind, like a long-lost mory dragging itself from the abyss.
And then—It hit him.
All this ti—
All this fighting, all this struggling, all this endless cycle of gaining power, only to fall short.
He had forgotten.
He had lost sight of his original goal coming here.
He clenched his fists as the realization sank in.
What was he doing here?
Why had he co to this accursed place in the first place?
He had co to find Heaven.
That had been his purpose from the beginning.
And yet—
Sowhere along the way, he had been distracted.
Pulled into battles that weren’t his.
Forced into a world that devoured the weak and spit them out like nothing. And then carried away by the pleasure of this place... this palace of the greatest king in history.
But now—
Now, he rembered. He had to find Heaven.
And to do that—
He needed Solomon. Enel turned sharply, his eyes narrowing on the old king.
But before he could even ask—The Mirror of Ti reacted.
The swirling images that had long been replaying Lucifer’s conquest suddenly shifted.
The glass trembled.
Reflections twisted, rearranging.
And then—He saw it.
Heaven.
A place—
Outside of ti. Beyond fate.
Beyond control.
No wonder he had never found a single trace of it.
No wonder his search had been in vain.
Because he could not.
Because he never could.
Because Heaven was not within the boundaries of ti.
Unlike Hell—
Hell, which was anchored in ti so that every suffering soul could know and feel their eternal tornt.
Heaven was different.
Heaven was untouched. Unreachable.
A place of absolute peace.
A realm where eternity was unchanging.
That was why no one could reach it.
Unless—Unless they had already transcended.
Unless they were above the very concept of ti itself.
Enel’s eyes widened as a realization dawned upon him.
Then... How?
How was he supposed to go beyond ti?
Subconsciously, he asked the Satan System and the reply he got confird his doubt.
Only those of Evening Star rank could accomplish such a thing.
Those were beings who could crush entire suns in their palms and drink the flas as wine.
They weren’t just powerful. They were beyond power.
They were above even gods.
And he...
He was still just him.
Weak.
Fragile.
And just like that—Sothing boiled.
Deep inside him—Sothing erupted.
A hatred so intense it burned brighter than any fla. He hated it.
He hated himself for being so weak.
So pathetic.
He hated Solomon.
For knowing so much and doing so little.
He hated the Mirror of Ti.
For showing him these things he could not change.
For making him feel powerless. For mocking him with knowledge beyond his grasp.
He hated Lucifer.
For his arrogance. For his strength.
For standing at the peak of existence while Enel crawled in the dirt.
But more than anything—
He hated the world.
The unfairness. The design.
Everything.
What Enel did not know—
Was that deep within the Satan System,
A single chanism was spinning wildly.
The Arrow of Hate.
It turned faster and faster, its essence flooding through every fiber of his being
Hatred.
Pure. Unbridled. Consuming. And it was growing.
It was becoming sothing more.
Sothing unstoppable. Sothing inevitable.
Enel’s breathing was ragged, his mind a storm of emotions—hatred, despair, rage, desperation—blending into sothing he could barely control.
And then—
He looked up.
His eyes widened.
There they were.
The Gates of Heaven.
A sight so pure, so magnificent that for a mont, all of Enel’s madness seed to still.
They stood tall—unshakable—a testant to eternity itself.
A structure unlike anything mortal hands could craft, yet grander than even the most divine imagination could conceive.
They were not made of tal, nor of stone, nor even of light.
They were made of runes.
Not just any runes. Cosmic runes.
Living scriptures, woven into the very fabric of reality itself.
Every line of script glowed with an unfathomable power, ancient and boundless, as if written at the very mont the cosmos was born.
And more than that, the gate was alive.
Through the Mirror of Ti, Enel could feel it.
It had will.
It had thought.
It was not just a barrier.
It was a being.
An entity of absolute pride.
A guardian that did not simply protect—it judged.
Even from across the distance, even from beyond ti itself, Enel felt it.
The weight of its gaze.
The silent decree that only the worthy may pass.
And yet—
Even knowing this, even feeling the crushing reality of its presence, his hand moved.
He reached out.
Not because he thought he could grasp it.
But because—
Because he had to.
Because he wanted to.
Because sothing deep within him, sothing unrelenting, refused to let go of that dream.
In this regard, Hope was a wicked mistress. Undeniably, every person-being born into the world could not do without it.
Even at the pit of despair, it was a call, ever seductive, ever alluring, and ever inviting.
For one that had been dealt the most insignificant hand of fate and wickedness, how could he not have hope.
As soone that had kissed the touch of death, fated for embrace, how could he not believe for even a little that this salvation was his to grab.
After all, only those that had truly been at the bottom can appreciate the peak.
Only a poor man truly knows the worth of a penny.
As only a thirsty traveller knows the value of a drop of water.
Enel was that traveller. Even with his achieved strength, sothing within him seeked to be free, to. Be saved.
But just as his fingertips extended—
A voice stopped him.
A voice that had never sounded so serious.
"Enel. You cannot go to that place."
Enel’s hand froze.
His head turned sharply to the side.
There stood King Solomon.
The playfulness—the ever-present amusent that never left his expression—was gone.
In its place—
A look of solemnity.
A look of absolute certainty.
Enel narrowed his eyes, his voice low and demanding—
"Why?"
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