"I have a favor to ask of you," Michael stated, sitting in the comfortable black seat of the limousine.
In front of him was the sa man who had invited him in, pouring himself a glass of wine.
But of course, he offered a glass to Michael as well. "Would you like so?"
"I'm good." Michael pushed the wine away with mana, causing the old man's brows to furrow.
"I've never t anyone who doesn't like wine."
"Not the ti. Now, back to the topic at hand." Michael straightened his back. "Look into the identity of a Michael Dalton—forr military, later beca a rcenary. Preferably, check if he has any living relatives as well."
"That is no problem," the old man stated, pulling out a laptop.
Michael was expecting to wait for a couple of minutes. However, before he could even take another breath, the old man was already done and rotated the laptop over to him.
On the screen, there was a single result.
"Not the result you were looking for, I'd imagine?" the old man asked, putting the laptop to the side and getting comfortable. "I am all ears."
"I want you to check one more thing—Ron Dalton. He should be around 78 this year," Michael said before adding, "Marie Dalton was his wife—died of a lung disease."
The old man returned to typing and, just like before, ca up with a similar result.
And upon seeing it, Michael was relieved.
"He's living here?" Michael's eyes widened as he read that.
"Do you wish to see him?" the old man asked, and Michael hesitated before nodding.
"Yes..."
At his words, the old man tapped the side panel of the car, and soon, their directions changed as they began heading to the address on the laptop.
"What's your na?" the old man asked. "You can call General Simon, or simply Simon. I wouldn't mind."
"...Just call Michael."
An amused look appeared on Simon's face. "Having the na Michael while packing wings on your back? What a coincidence."
However, the playful laughter he was expecting to get from Michael was nowhere to be seen, causing Simon to halt in place.
"You wouldn't happen to be t-the Archangel Michael from the Bible, now would you?"
"I'm not him directly," Michael shrugged. "But you could say we are related."
"Wow... We thought the others who had also co to Earth were special, but you certainly are sothing else entirely, aren't you?" Simon mused out loud. However, Michael could not care less.
"Remind where Marie Dalton is buried."
"It's in the local cetery off in the—"
"I rember now," Michael interjected. "Thanks for all your help, Simon. But I do wonder—why exactly are you helping ? Are you trying to get on your side or sothing?"
"Not exactly," Simon chuckled. "Soone similar to you tried to destroy Earth once, and I'm rely trying to prevent that from repeating."
"I find it hard to believe Earth has the faculties to kill a being like us," Michael said with narrowed eyes. "Even the weakest of us could withstand a ballistic missile or two."
"How about a nuke?" Simon suddenly stated, causing Michael's eyes to widen.
"You dropped a nuke to kill them!?"
"Sacrificing a city in exchange for the lives of billions seems like a good trade-off to , Michael."
My morals are too fucked to disagree with him... It isn't a terrible choice.
Nonetheless, Michael did not want to speak anymore, as he felt uncomfortable.
Despite the fact that his strength was much higher and he could likely destroy this entire world with an accidental sneeze, Simon reminded him of his old drill sergeant.
And saying he had nightmares about him would be an understatent.
"We're here," Simon said, opening the limousine's door and startling Michael out of his thoughts.
As he glanced through the window, he spotted a massive residential skyscraper ahead of him.
Is Father... living here? No way, right?
However, his suspicions were soon confird as Simon walked forward and led the way. "This way, Michael."
They walked into the lobby, and Simon showed his identity card to the receptionist, imdiately gaining access to the entire building.
Therefore, they headed toward the elevator, and Simon pressed the uppermost floor—the 100th floor.
The way up was slow, or it rely felt slow to Michael.
After all, it had been nearly 15 years since he had last seen his father face to face.
Or more like 20 by now—since after he died, ti did not exactly stop, and the body whose mories he had received had lived a fair amount.
Nonetheless, all that mattered was that his father wasn't dead.
"You seem nervous," Simon pointed out. "Don't be. Seeing soone you used to know is sothing every single returnee does when they co back."
"...I am aware," Michael replied.
And soon, the last of the elevator's lights flickered, and finally, they had arrived at the 100th floor.
However, as they did, and Michael finally took in his surroundings, he noticed sothing was off.
There was indeed a person behind the single massive door in front of him, but they were rapidly losing life force.
A wave of panic washed over Michael as he dashed toward the door and slamd straight through it.
As he did, he noticed an old man with black hair lying on the ground, coughing up blood, oblivious to their presence.
"Shit, I'll call the ambul—" Simon's words were interrupted when, all of a sudden, the entire atmosphere was enveloped in a chill.
And in the very next mont, Michael stretched out a single thread of mana, connecting it to his father's forehead.
In an instant, his father's expression visibly got better, and the coughing had finally stopped.
Nonetheless, Michael did not stop at that, as he carefully navigated his mana throughout his father's entire body—reinforcing and healing every single organ he had.
The sa went for his skin. Just a few monts ago, his father had looked like an old man—now, he seed barely in his twenties.
But the fact that he was passed out could not be helped, and Michael would not try to shake him awake.
After all, if even his father did not rember him—then what did Michael have left?
The system was gone, his friends did not rember him, the only person he liked didn't even know he existed anymore.
It was tragic, and he had no idea how to fix it either.
If only I could... Michael suddenly froze at his train of thought. Ti... Can I turn back ti to before their mories were erased and prevent it from happening in the first place?
He thought about it seriously, but not even a mont later, he dropped that topic.
At most, he could turn back ti a year, and even then, he would severely exhaust his mana reserves. And to fully restore them would take a very long ti.
Coupled with that fact, Michael was very positive the gods—whoever was responsible for erasing their mories—had made sure to make ti not a solution.
Fuck all of this...
He was at a standstill. Even if he did not exactly interact with people that much, knowing that they had completely forgotten him hurt.
No amount of healing magic could fix that.
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In the midst of his thoughts, a groan rang out from below him.
"Ugh... The fuck? What am I doing on the ground?"
It was his father, and Michael was unsure of how to even react. Therefore, he rely stood still like so sort of rock until, eventually, his father took notice of him.
"The fuck do you think you're doing in my house, huh? Wanna die? I have a weapon in my closet, and if you just wait here a mont, I'll go and get it, alright?"
"...S-Suit yourself, old man." Michael felt his emotions stirring like never before.
However, he wanted to try sothing out. Therefore, he glanced into his father's eyes and used mana.
In an instant, he gained a rough understanding of his father's thought process, and by reverse-engineering that, Michael was able to search through them thoroughly.
And of course, there was no ntion of a Michael existing, as every single happening, every single diploma he had, was now gone.
Even the sudden wealth his father received was labeled as though he had won the lottery.
All of this happened in less than a second, and once Michael blinked, everything was back to normal. He began walking over to Simon, who had a look of disbelief.
"...I want you to keep watch over him until I am back."
"Y-You can truly heal? And reverse aging too? Are you sure you're not the Arch—"
Before Simon could finish his words, Michael whisked a strand of his mana outward before teleporting toward it.
Nonetheless, he had one objective now, and he slowly began flying toward it.
In less than an hour, he finally made it to Washington, D.C., and now, he was hovering down, with all sorts of news reports, public servants, and, of course, people livestreaming everything.
But at this mont, he could not care less, as he finally arrived on the ground, walking through the valley of tombstones until, eventually, Michael arrived in front of one tombstone in particular.
It was covered in moss, and it looked like it wasn't cleaned for many years.
However, the text remained clear.
It's still here... and the gods didn't alter the text either... Michael tried to hold himself back, but tears still slipped down his face.
"I'm back, Mother..."
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