[Location: ???]
’Where is this? It’s pretty dark in here. Am I dead again?!’
"Damn It! I didn’t even get to embrace Grayfia one last ti, or see Eris one last ti, or take Zera’s virginity... yeah, last one was a bit much for last wish but-but..."
Sigh~
Whatever, might as well be done with this.
Dark.
Not the gentle kind.
Not the comforting void you slip into when consciousness loosens its grip.
This darkness pressed back.
It acknowledged you.
I floated—or rather, existed—without sensation. No pain. No weight. No shadow tugging at my spine. Even Genesis, that ever-present ache at the core of my being, was quiet.
Too quiet.
’...Yeah, that’s not normal.’
I tried to move my fingers.
Nothing.
Tried to breathe.
I didn’t need to.
That realization alone made my stomach twist—if I still had one.
A faint sound echoed.
Not footsteps.
Not wind.
A note.
Pure. Clear. Almost fragile.
It rang once, like a bell struck very gently, and the darkness... flinched.
Then light appeared.
Not all at once.
First, a single thread—silver-gold, impossibly thin—stretching across the void. It trembled, as if unsure whether it was allowed to exist here.
I stared at it.
The thread brightened.
Then another appeared.
And another.
Soon, countless strands wove themselves together, forming sothing like wings—vast, luminous, layered with geotry too precise to be natural and too gentle to be chanical.
An outline took shape.
A figure descended—not falling, not walking—simply arriving.
White robes. Not ornate. Not regal. Simple, almost plain, like soone who didn’t believe they deserved decoration.
Blond hair, soft, slightly ssy, glowing faintly as if embarrassed by its own radiance.
And eyes—
Blue.
Clear.
So painfully earnest it almost hurt to look at them.
He stopped a short distance away.
Then bowed.
Deeply.
Formally.
Politely.
"...Um. H-Hello."
His voice cracked.
Just a little.
"I—ah—please forgive if this is rude, but... are you awake?"
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
My mouth worked before my brain caught up.
"...Either I’m hallucinating," I muttered, "or Heaven really downgraded its intimidation budget."
The figure froze.
"Oh! N-No, I’m not— I an— I wasn’t trying to be intimidating! I’m sorry if I scared you! I can leave if—"
"Stop," I said quickly. "Please. You’re fine. You’re... very fine."
He relaxed instantly, shoulders sagging in visible relief.
"Oh. Thank goodness."
He clasped his hands together, fidgeting.
"Soooo... you’re just going to stand like a fidgeting statue, or you gonna tell who you are?"
The angel stiffened like he’d been caught doing sothing illegal.
"I—! Yes! Of course! I’m so sorry!" He straightened imdiately, posture perfect despite the nervous tremor in his wings. "My na is Helel. Um. Arch— no, wait— just Hele is fine. Please just Helel."
I stared.
Processed.
Then sighed.
"...Of course it’s ’my’ dear gramps here."
Helel blinked.
"...Gramps?"
The word seed to hit him physically.
He flinched—just a little—then tilted his head, genuinely puzzled, blond hair falling into his eyes.
"I—um—pardon? I don’t believe I have children, much less grandchildren. At least... not that I’m aware of." He paused, then added earnestly, "I’m very sorry if I forgot."
I groaned.
"Oh no. He’s this version."
Past version, to be exact.
"So, you were always this... timid? At least quite the opposite of what I thought, honestly."
Helel blinked again.
"T-Timid?" he repeated softly, as if tasting the word. "I... I wouldn’t say that. I just prefer to be polite. And careful. The universe is very large, and I tend to bump into things if I’m not."
"...You’re joking."
"I’m not," he said earnestly. "I once apologized to a star for nearly colliding with it. In my defence, it moved."
I closed my eyes.
Opened them again.
Yep. Still here. Still glowing. Still, one of the most harmless-looking Archangels you’d ever seen.
"So," I said slowly, "let get this straight. I’m in so kind of... afterlife waiting room, talking to my grandfather when he was still called Helel, and he’s a socially awkward cinnamon roll."
Helel’s wings twitched.
"G-Grandfather keeps coming up," he said gently. "I don’t mind if it’s a term of affection, but I truly don’t understand—"
"Don’t," I interrupted, rubbing my temples. "Explain it, I an. If I start explaining family trees right now, my head might actually explode. And I just got it back."
"Oh! Of course!" He nodded rapidly. "I’m very sorry. Please, take your ti."
I squinted at him.
"...You’re really like this."
"Yes," he said, smiling shyly. "I’ve been told it’s a problem."
"No," I muttered. "It’s a catastrophe."
Silence stretched between us.
Not awkward silence.
Curious silence.
The darkness around felt... restrained now. As if it wanted to press in again, but sothing about Helel’s presence made it hesitate. The silver-gold threads of his wings humd faintly, like a distant choir holding a single note.
"So," I said at last, "why am I here?"
Helel stiffened slightly.
Ah.
There it was.
"Well," he began carefully, choosing each word as if it might break if mishandled, "you are... not dead."
"...I’m sorry?"
"You are also not alive," he added quickly. "But not in the usual way. It’s very complicated. I had to check three tis."
"That’s comforting."
"And this isn’t afterlife or waiting-waiting thing too, this is so sort of renace, I guess?"
"You’re asking ?"
Helel blinked at my question.
"Oh—um—n-no. Not exactly," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, wings fluttering faintly. "This isn’t an afterlife. Or a waiting room. Or a judgnt space. I... myself have been trying to look for an exit... for the last... I lost count after seven myriad years—"
"MYRIAD?! You an seventy thousand years?!"
Helel froze.
His eyes widened—not dramatically, not theatrically—but with the quiet horror of soone realizing they may have said sothing terribly wrong.
"O–Oh. I’m sorry. I forgot mortals use much smaller counting systems," he said quickly. "Um. Yes. Seventy thousand years. Approximately. I think. It’s hard to tell here. Ti tends to... blur."
I stared at him.
He doesn’t even know that he is just an echo, a mory, not even a soul fragnt.
And it seems he is even losing his mories backward, so to confirm—
"What is the last thing you rember of ’outside’ here?" I asked him.
Helel tilted his head at my question.
"The... last thing I rember?" he repeated softly.
He closed his eyes.
For a mont, the silver-gold threads of his wings dimd, as if the light itself was holding its breath.
"I was... apologizing," he said slowly.
"...Apologizing," I echoed.
"Yes. I think." His brows knit together in faint confusion. "Soone was upset. Very upset. I rember wanting to fix it. Wanting to explain that I never ant to overstep. That I only wanted to help."
A pause.
"I was standing before a great... radiance. Not painful. Just... absolute. It felt like looking at the idea of authority itself." He smiled faintly. "I rember bowing. I always bow when I’m nervous."
My chest tightened.
"...And then?"
"And then," he said, voice growing quieter, "I spoke."
The darkness around us stirred.
Just slightly.
"I don’t rember what I said," Helel admitted. "Only that it was honest. And that honesty... seed to upset everyone."
I let out a slow breath.
Yep. That tracks.
"Do you rember a war?" I asked carefully. "A rebellion? A fall?"
Helel’s eyes snapped open.
War.
The word itself seed to scrape against him.
"I—no," he said quickly, almost apologetically. "I don’t like war. I would rember sothing like that. I’m sure I would."
Another fragnt lost.
"...Do you rember Lilith?" I asked.
That did sothing.
Helel froze.
Not stiffened—
froze.
The silver-gold threads of his wings flickered, not dimming, not brightening—misaligning, as if they had forgotten which direction light was supposed to travel.
"Li...lith?" he repeated slowly.
The na ca out carefully. Gentle. Like he was afraid it might bruise if spoken too loudly.
He tilted his head again, but this ti the motion wasn’t curious.
It was searching.
"I... don’t know," he admitted. "The na feels... important. Warm. And heavy." His brows furrowed faintly. "Is she... soone I wronged?"
I exhaled.
Of course, that’s where his mind went.
"...No," I said quietly. "Not soone you wronged."
His shoulders eased in visible relief.
"Oh. That’s good," he said sincerely. "I would hate to think I hurt soone and forgot."
"...Is she your mother?" Helel asked softly, tentative, as if the question itself might be rude.
"As you called grandfather."
I didn’t answer imdiately.
For the first ti since waking up here, I felt sothing heavier than pain—heavier than Genesis backlash.
Guilt.
Not mine.
His.
And the cruel irony was that he didn’t even rember enough to deserve it.
"She..." I let the words hang, tasting the weight. "...She would be proud of you."
Helel blinked.
"...Proud?" His voice was soft, almost a whisper. The silver-gold threads of his wings fluttered nervously. "I... I’m... not sure I understand."
"You don’t have to," I said slowly, letting my voice carry across the void. "You’re doing more than you know. Even fragnts... even echoes... can carry aning."
He hesitated. His hands twitched at his sides, the faint glow from his palms pulsing like timid heartbeats. "...aning?" he asked. "...Even ?"
"Especially you," I replied, tilting my head. "You’re standing in the middle of a place where most things vanish. Most things are erased. Most things fold themselves into soone else’s rules. And yet..." I paused, letting the words settle between us. "...You’re still here. Still intact. Still... trying."
Helel tilted his head again, wings shivering faintly as if the air itself was afraid of him. "...Trying... to do... what?"
"To exist," I said softly. "Not just to exist in the usual way, not like a puppet echo of soone else. But to... leave a mark. Even a small one. Even just a whisper."
Helel’s gaze lowered, uncertain. "...A whisper...?"
I smiled faintly. "Yes. A whisper. But sotis a whisper is all it takes to echo through eternity."
Helel’s hands lifted hesitantly, the tips brushing against the threads of his wings. "...Echo...?" He repeated, more to himself than to . "...I... I never thought... I could... echo."
"You do," I said. "You just... don’t know it yet."
He paused, blinked, and for the first ti, his usual timid energy faltered. "...I—don’t deserve this... do I?" His voice cracked slightly, the glow in his wings dimming like candlelight struggling against the dark.
I tilted my head. "...Deserve? Helel... look at . You don’t have to deserve anything. Existence... aning... it doesn’t ask for permission."
His eyes widened, glimring with unshed questions. "...But... I... I’m just... . A fragnt. A mory. A shadow of what was supposed to be..."
"And that’s exactly why it matters," I said firmly. "...Because even a shadow can cast a light."
The silence returned, but it was... different this ti. Warr. Expectant. Not oppressive, not suffocating. The darkness seed to retreat slightly, giving space for his presence, his fragile glow, to fill the void.
Helel shifted, wings trembling as he slowly took a hesitant step forward. "...You... really think... I can... do sothing? Even like this?"
I smirked faintly. "I don’t think, Helel. I know. Even if you don’t rember everything, even if you’re just a fraction... know that, the whole world acknowledged your existence... and death." But the last part was in my mind.
"The whole world? Acknowledged my existence? Father must be proud of , hehe~"
But then—
Helel blinked at , still hesitant, as if I’d just given him the blueprints to a spaceship without telling him how to start it.
"...So... I’m supposed to do... what exactly?" he asked quietly, voice almost a whisper. His fingers traced absent patterns in the air, stirring the silver-gold threads of his wings like an unpracticed musician.
"Let go... you’re supposed to... let go."
Because I guessed that, this is not the afterlife, or I’m dead, but this is inside of the seal Helel placed Alucard, leaving behind an echo to...
***
Stone , I can take it!
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