Chapter 680: [Memories of Samael Eveningstar] [2]

"The wheel of fate cannot be undone. You have a role to play, Samael—and you will fulfill it."

A-Nihil stood there behind Samael, her white hair flowing back.

Samael didn’t even turn his head. He sat alone at the edge of a flowering peak, one hand draped lazily over his knee, his back resting against a marble stone cloaked in moss and sunlight. The breeze played with strands of his pitch black hair, but his gaze remained fixed ahead—on the Garden of Eden.

Below him, the cradle of paradise bloomed in divine harmony: cascading waterfalls shimmered like liquid crystal, birds of impossible colors danced in the trees, and golden vines crept up white pillars that stood like silent sentinels of an ancient dream. The Garden was truly beautiful.

But his eyes—those deep, dark amethysts—held no reflection of that light.

"I have no interest in your so-called wheel of fate," he said quietly. "Nor do I care for whatever glimpse of Fate you’ve seen in me, A-Nihil."

She stepped forward. The air around her shimmered faintly, like heat rising from sand.

"Nihil cares for you," she said.

Samael didn’t reply.

Standing beside him now, A-Nihil folded her arms behind her back, her white robes fluttering softly in the wind.

"And he trusts you. I hope you won’t spit on that trust."

A shadow of irritation passed over Samael’s face as he turned his head slightly to look up at her.

"Your role, A-Nihil, is not to babysit me," he replied. "Obey Ymir. Know your place, and remember your function."

She smiled faintly.

"I do know my place very well. I was born to be Nihil’s eyes, his second heart. I exist to step in when even he hesitates. And that means, yes—warning you when you stray."

"Warning me?" Samael repeated.

"Yes." Her voice dropped, serious. "Astras and Altaras are essential pillars for the future of this world. The... emotions you and Elysia have been nurturing—however beautifully tragic—are problematic. It might be more acceptable if Elysia were your Astara. But she is not. She belongs to Eden now—as his Altara. And as a Princess of Khaos, her destiny lies with him."

Samael turned away again.

"Love isn’t a crime," he said calmly. "Even you, for all your restraint and supposed objectivity... you love Nihil. More than just a partner. You can deny it all you want. But it’s there. That’s why Nevia was born."

A-Nihil’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something dangerous flashing through them.

"Don’t speak her name."

Samael couldn’t care less as he continued.

"She was born from love... yet you’ve shackled her. Given her powers beyond what her young soul can handle. She doesn’t even understand the weight of the chains you’ve wrapped around her. You sealed her fate long before she could choose her path."

"She must carry that burden," A-Nihil said coldly. "Nevia is essential—for all of us. For the future. Including yours, Samael. If you cannot understand that, so be it. But do not drag her down with your... recklessness."

Samael’s face stayed impassive but he seemed almost amused by her words.

"Recklessness? From you? I only hope Nevia won’t pay the price for the choices

you

and Nihil made."

The air around them cracked.

Sand—white and impossibly fine—began swirling around A-Nihil, drawn to her like a storm responding to her emotions. Her white eyes pulsed with light as the atmosphere grew heavy, tense.

"I made Trinity Nihil for a reason," Samael said. "A gift for my friend and for Nevia so the sword would take a little of her burden. I have done more than you have ever done for her."

A-Nihil canceled her pressure at his words.

His words were true after all.

The Holy Sword was a perfection made by Samael for Nevia especially to help her and for that at least she was grateful but that didn’t mean she trusted him.

"You are darkness, Samael," she whispered. "You know why Eden was chosen instead of you."

"He was the eldest of us three assigned in this world."

"That’s not why," she said. "Even if you were born first, you never would’ve been chosen."

It was meant to provoke him. She wanted to see him lose composure—especially now, so soon after Elysia had been officially named Eden’s Altara. Everyone knew. Even Ymir had given him a direct order: let go of Elysia. End it. Leave the past behind.

But Samael simply sighed.

He was calm. Too calm.

Because only last night, he and Elysia had spent hours together—long hours that passed like dreams under moonlight. They had spoken, whispered truths between each kiss, each breath. They had made peace with what the world expected of them... and then they had rejected it all.

She was Eden’s Altara. He was Nemesis’s Astra.

But those were just titles—roles assigned by powers that neither knew their hearts, nor deserved to dictate them.

They were for each other. That bond went beyond fate. Beyond designations like Astra and Altara.

Samael laid down on the ground crossing his arms behind his head staring at the sky. His eyes could see beyond them to the stars themselves, until their birth and their origins.

"...Say what you will, A-Nihil," Samael said at last coldly. "But don’t get in my way."

Until now, he had kept his composure. But that calm had its limits. He would forgive many things, but not this. Not another hand trying to sever the bond between him and Elysia. Anyone who dared—be it Ymir herself—would be met without mercy.

A-Nihil’s expression darkened. She stepped closer, her white eyes glowing faintly in the windblown light.

"You were born because of Eden and Lucifer," she said,. "Born to bear their sins—and the sins of this world. You still resist that truth. But if you truly care for Elysia, you wouldn’t drag her into your path. There’s a reason Nemesis was chosen as your Altara. Not Elysia. Not Harivel—"

"Hast thou spoken enough?"

A chilling voice interrupted her.

A-Nihil turned sharply.

Nemesis stood just a few paces behind. She wore a crooked smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Those eyes, veiled behind a delicate mesh of shadow, radiated raw contempt.

"Do not trouble mine Eveningstar," she said.

A-Nihil narrowed her eyes. "Nemesis. You, of all people, should be the first concerned by Samael’s time spent with Elysia."

But Nemesis only tilted her head.

"What my Samael doeth concerneth but me—as his Altara. Didst thou not say it thyself?"

She began to walk forward with slow steps, as if daring A-Nihil to try and stop her. Inch by inch, she closed the distance until she was standing directly in front of her, a head shorter but not in the least intimidated.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I am not so patient as Samael."

Then, with a pale, unhurried gesture, she reached up—her fingers ghosting toward A-Nihil’s flawless cheek.

"Whan next ye meet with mine Astra alone," she spoke in a dark voice, "I shall gouge out thine eyes... and send them to little Nevia as a gift."

A-Nihil’s recoiled just slightly. She despised the sensation crawling down her spine—fear

.

Yes... these two.

Samael and Nemesis.

An Astra and Altara, bound.

Terrifyingly compatible.

Perhaps too compatible.

At first she also thought it was a good match but she wondered if it was really a good idea to put them together.

A-Nihil said nothing. She turned, the air shifting with her departure. She had no wish to escalate things now, not with Nemesis in that mood. Still, her hands trembled at her sides—not from weakness, but from restraint.

Nemesis’s hand hovered briefly in the air, disappointed. She’d wanted to leave a mark on A-Nihil’s face—something small. Something permanent. But it would have to wait.

She turned away and walked back toward Samael, her expression softening just slightly as she reached him. Without a word, she lowered herself onto the ground beside him and rested her head against his lap.

He didn’t look at her, but his hand instinctively moved, fingers threading gently through her silk dark hair. His eyes remained fixed on the distant horizon.

"I want to kill her, Samael," she murmured.

"I know," he replied.

"Nihil shall betray thee one day."

She said it like a truth etched in stone.

She hated that Samael still held any affection for Nihil. It twisted her inside to see it—that lingering trust. That softness. She hated everything that bore Eden’s scent, and Nihil was no exception. In her eyes, Nihil’s loyalty was always Eden’s to command. Never Samael’s.

And yet Samael never cared. Not really.

He remembered what others had forgotten. That when he was cast out, when the world flinched from his presence like he was a curse made flesh... Nihil was among the first who first reached out. It was Nihil who stood beside him when no one else dared.

That was why Samael bore a soft spot for him. That was why he had forged a blade—pure and brilliant—from the cleanest piece of his soul... and given it freely to Nevia. Nihil’s daughter. The purest girl he had ever known.

"I know," he said again. His fingers paused in her hair, then continued.

There was a quiet storm brewing in his eyes—purple, but darkening, swirling at the edges.

He knew that moment Nemesis spoke of would come.

He just didn’t know when.

But he wouldn’t change. Not for fate. Not for prophecy. Not even for survival.

But if they forced his hand...

Then that would be a different matter entirely.