He gazed at the world below without the hostility he had directed at the <Moon of Creation>.
But with a hint of melancholy in his expression.
Perhaps out of curiosity about it, Militia descended the stairs.
For the first time, the distance between the two shrank.
“There’s something I want to ask you.” (Anos)
With his back turned, the Demon King turned only his face toward Militia.
“About the world?” (Militia)
“About you.” (Anos)
Militia’s eyes widened slightly.
“Now that I think about it, I’ve never tried to understand the gods, either. Militia, tell me what you’re feeling.” (Anos)
In an emotionless voice, she responded.
“Gods are order. We don’t feel anger, sadness, kindness, or pride. We merely arise as order and fulfill our role. We are immortal, so we are not even alive.” (Militia)
“So you have no feelings?” (Anos)
“Immortal beings do not need feelings. They are a function granted only to the living.” Militia stated in an emotionless voice.
The Demon King directed his gaze to the ground and thought for a moment before speaking up.
“Gods aren’t immortal.” (Anos)
Those words carried a strong will.
“Nothing is immortal before me.” (Anos)
The Demon King asked the Goddess of Creation once again.
“Will you tell me about yourself?” (Anos)
“What do you want to know?” Militia asked back, still looking expressionless.
“Anything.” (Anos)
For a while, the goddess that looked like a young girl kept her mouth shut.
A long, long time passed.
Eventually, she spoke.
“I have a younger sister.” (Militia)
“Oh. Do you get along with her?” (Anos)
“I’ve never met her.” (Militia)
“Why is that?” (Anos)
“Because our order dictates it.” (Militia)
As soon as she said that, the eastern sky began to turn red.
Soon, the long night would be over.
“The <Moon of Creation> is disappearing. My time on earth is almost over.” (Militia)
“Then, can I ask you one last thing?” (Anos)
Militia nodded.
“What’s your sister’s name?” the Demon King asked.
The silver moon in the sky disappeared, and the sun began to rise instead.
Militia turned into a sparkling lunar snowdrop and vanished.
But not before leaving her sister’s name behind.
Time went by.
Life on earth perished without a change, and tens of millions of lives were lost.
Then, seven years after that night—
The <Moon of Creation> rose in the sky once again.
In this pure world where time seemed to have stopped, a dark staircase hung over the silver moon.
Someone was climbing it up.
It was the Demon King of Tyranny, Anos Voldigoad.
He kept climbing it for seven days and seven nights, and when he was so high up the mountains looked to be the size of pebbles, a shining silver lunar snowdrop fell on the stairs.
Its radiance intensified, and took on the shape of a person.
The Goddess of Creation Militia appeared, as the exact same silver-haired girl as back then.
“Hmm. Long time no see, Militia.” (Anos)
“It’s been seven years.” (Militia)
Militia descended the staircase.
“I’ve brought you a gift today.” (Anos)
The Demon King took out a letter from his pocket and handed it to the girl.
“From your sister.” (Anos)
When he said that, Militia unsealed the envelope and took out the letter inside.
A magic circle was drawn on it. When the girl gently touches it with her hand, words played in her head.
Militia, who had been listening to them for a while, smiled a bit.
“What does it say?” (Anos)
She turned her eyes toward the Demon King.
“You didn’t read it?” (Militia)
“I wouldn’t read a letter addressed to someone else.” (Anos)
“It says ‘Give my regards to my Demon King.’” she replied.
“Hmm. Well, I did have a hard time getting her to write this letter.” (Anos)
As the Demon king sat down on the stairs, Militia stood beside him.
“I had a dream.” (Militia)
“Oh? So gods can dream too.” (Anos)
Militia quietly shook her head.
“It was my first time.” (Militia)
“What kind of dream was that?” (Anos)
“It was about a reincarnated god.” Militia said, as if her thoughts were directed at the ground far below.
“What happened?” (Anos)
“Even after reincarnating, order is order. And gods are still gods.” she said in an indifferent tone.
“But in my dream, a god could live a life other than order. And I left everything I had to my sister.” (Militia)
“What happened to you after you left her everything?” (Anos)
She stared at the Demon King as she answered.
“I don’t know.” (Militia)
The Demon King thought, then he asked.
“Then what did you want to do?” (Anos)
“I wanted to be the kindness of a cold world.” (Militia)
The Demon King smiled at the words the Goddess of Creation spilled so casually.
“Is that funny?” (Militia)
“No, I just realized my own foolishness.” he said as if in self-derision.
“Looks like there are several kinds of gods out there.” (Anos)
“There are different kinds of order, but not life.” (Militia)
The Demon King chuckled.
“Do you have time tonight?” he asked.
“A little.” (Militia)
“Then let’s pick up where we left off seven years ago, and chat the night away.” (Anos)
On that night, the silver moon was shining, and lunar snowdrops were fluttering down.
On the dark staircase hanging in the sky, the Goddess of Creation and the Demon King were falteringly chatting with each other.
And that was how the Demon King and the Goddess of Creation met.
Who knows what they were talking about.
