Chapter 708: [Blood Moon War] [49] Amael And Nihil

Amael sat in silence upon the jagged crown of a mountain, a lone figure against the endless sky. His posture was still, almost meditative, his eyes closed as if retreating deep within himself. The faint breeze tugged at his hair, carrying the scent of damp earth and wild greenery from the jungle sprawling far below. His expression was calm, but thoughtful.

Two conversations lingered at the front of his mind, both of them shaping him in ways he hadn’t expected.

The first was with Nevia—or rather, shown by Nevia. To call it a talk was generous; she hadn’t uttered a word, instead laying fragments of memory bare for him to see. A one-sided exchange, yet one that had left its mark.

The second was with Harivel, another of the Khaos Princesses, though unlike Nevia, she was shackled away—sealed long ago after she went against Eden as well. Nevia’s memory had revealed Harivel’s prison, hidden in a place so obscure that even gods would struggle to stumble across it. Knowing the location was only the beginning; reaching her was another impossible task altogether. But Amael was Nihil’s son, and impossibility was something he had learned to treat as an obstacle rather than a law. Against all odds, he had reached her. And their conversation... it had been no less profound than the one Nevia had forced upon him.

Now, with both encounters behind him, he had retreated here—to the summit of a peculiar mountain, three thousand meters high, jutting like a lonely spear in the middle of an untouched island. The jungle below stretched in every direction, its canopy a sea of green, its depths untouched by human eyes. No maps marked this place. No sailors spoke of it. And thanks to Amael’s own efforts, it would remain that way. He had veiled the entire island in protective mana circles, reinforced with his own Divinity—an impenetrable shroud to keep the world at bay.

This hidden sanctuary had served him well. It was here he had hidden Sylvia and Lisandra, guarding their slumber, shielding them from prying eyes.

But the island was more than just a refuge. It carried a strange sense of déjà vu for Amael. In the lost timeline his father had rewritten, it was his other self—the one who carried Nyrel’s memories—who had first discovered this place. That Amael had fallen in love with its solitude, its danger, its unspoiled beauty. He had built a life here with Sylvia and Lisandra, carving a fragile happiness in a world that seemed intent on tearing it away.

Now, standing in the same place within this new timeline, Amael could feel the echo of those emotions. He too had come to love the island, to claim it as his own headquarters. It wasn’t just convenient—it was his. A place where the noise of the world fell away and he could finally hear his own thoughts.

And for once, those thoughts weren’t about his father’s will.

All his life, he had been a shadow moving to Nihil’s command, a son molded to fulfill a role. But here, in the stillness of the mountain peak, he began to wonder—what if he wanted something different? What if his path wasn’t the one that had been carved for him long before he could choose?

If things truly followed the script his father envisioned, he would understand why he had never become the Samael Nihil dreamed of. Perhaps it wasn’t failure, nor weakness. Perhaps it was simply that he was never meant to be that Samael at all. Every thread of fate seemed to lead only to one end: his death, always before he could gather the Sins, always before he could ascend into the figure his father had longed for.

And so, on that silent summit, Amael sat still—not as Nihil’s son, not as a vessel of destiny, but as himself. For the first time, he allowed the question to surface:

’What do I want?’

His mind drifted through the labyrinth of his life—every order followed, every path walked, all of it tied to the single purpose his father had branded into him.

Kill Edward Falkrona.

It had always been that simple. A task handed down like divine law. But now, sitting on the mountain, staring inward, Amael dared to ask himself the unthinkable:

’Does Edward really need to die?’

Would Edward truly become the dreaded Samael everyone whispered about in fear?

No.

Not according to what Nevia had shown him, not according to what Harivel had told in the depths of her prison. Their visions, their truths, all pointed to something else—something far more complicated. If the threads of fate were real, Edward was destined to die anyway, sometime after he returned to the future. His death was written.

And yet... Nevia hadn’t wanted him to die here, in the present day. She had been clear about that, though she’d never spoken a word aloud. The memory she forced upon him had screamed of it.

Why?

If Edward’s death was inevitable, why weren’t they more frantic? Why weren’t they panicking to stop the hand of fate from claiming him? Unless...

Was Edward meant to return even after dying?

Resurrection? That was absurd. Not even Nevia or Harivel—had the power to toy with life and death in such a way. Harivel’s Call of Banshees were limited though powerful.

A dry chuckle escaped his lips. That paranoia—that suspicion—was exactly what his father must have been thinking. Nihil had always been obsessed with sealing every loose end, with crushing uncertainty before it had time to grow. If there was even a chance that Nevia and Harivel had a hidden scheme, of course Nihil’s answer was to kill Edward as quickly as possible.

But Amael wasn’t his father.

He had seen Nevia’s silent truths. He had heard Harivel’s sharp honesty. He had pieced together the fragments of Sylvia and Lisandra’s inexplicable visions.

And everything—no matter how fragile or scattered—connected.

Lastly he even saw what his father had been hiding, his greatest secret.

Now only one question remained, heavy and final:

Which side would he choose?

His father’s—the side of Eden?

Or Nevia’s side, Harivel’s side... the side where Sylvia and Lisandra waited?

The answer, when he searched his heart, wasn’t difficult at all.

With a single step forward, his body vanished from the summit. Space folded around him as he cut through the air, leaving the island behind, heading toward Sancta Vedelia.

Mid-flight, he froze.

A figure stood before him, suspended in the air.

His father.

"Father," Amael said.

Nihil’s expression was stone. "You have seen Nevia."

Amael smiled faintly, tilting his head. "Is there something wrong with me trying to see my half-sister?"

"She is not your sister." Nihil’s tone was cold. "Nevia was born of me and A-Nihil, but not as you were. Do not confuse what she is. Regardless, you disobeyed me." His eyes narrowed. "What did you speak with her about?"

"Nothing." Amael shrugged lightly. "She didn’t speak a single word."

"Then why go to her at all?" Nihil asked.

Amael’s smile sharpened. "I wanted to catch a glimpse of my future."

Nihil’s frown deepened. "Amael, I entrusted you with a duty of great importance. And yet you have failed."

Amael chuckled softly. "I can’t fail something I haven’t even attempted, Father."

"Why is that so?" Nihil’s eyes narrowed.

Amael didn’t answer.

Finally, Nihil sighed, though it carried no warmth—only disappointment. "I should never have allowed you to see the memories of your previous self. I thought they would guide you toward stronger decisions, sharpen your resolve. Instead, you are letting emotions cloud your judgment." His gaze flicked, sharp and knowing. "You’ve grown attached to those two women, haven’t you? Sylvia. Lisandra. Even without remembering the rewritten past, they’ve somehow glimpsed fragments of it. Visions they should not have. Tell me, Amael..." Nihil’s voice dropped, almost mocking. "...did they ask you to spare Edward?"

"The Eyes of Horus that Sylvia and Lisandra carry... they belonged to my previous self," Amael said. "That’s why they see visions—why dreams come to them unbidden. They’re glimpses of the past those same eyes once witnessed, Father."

Nihil gave a small nod, unsurprised. "Correct. Your former incarnation wrestled with Wrath from the very moment of his birth. It threatened to consume him. Belle—your mother, in that life—pleaded Horus to save her child. And so Horus intervened, bestowing his eyes upon him. That power carried your other self forward...but you were not born burdened in the same way. There was no need for the Eyes in this life."

Amael tilted his head. "And yet Sylvia and Lisandra were born with them in this new timeline, when before, in the rewritten past, they did not possess such a gift."

"Indeed." Nihil’s gaze sharpened, as though he already knew the answer. "It seems Amael foresaw what I intended when I reset time. He loved those two deeply. So, he must have pleaded with Horus for something on their behalf."

"I never thought Lord Horus would actually grant such a request. To give away his Eyes to two strangers... women with no blood tie to him. It seems impossible even now," Amael chuckled.

"Do not underestimate your previous self’s bond with Horus," Nihil replied evenly. "Amael had an excellent relationship with his grandfather."

Grandfather. The word echoed strangely.

Amael knew Horus was his kin, but the connection had always felt distant. Belle was Horus’s daughter, yes, and in that other timeline she had dared to ask the unreasonable of her father—an impossible demand to save her child. And Horus, for all his pride and might, had relented. Not only saving the boy, but giving him his most sacred gift. His eyes.

All because his favorite daughter asked him.

Amael let out a quiet chuckle, though it carried a trace of bitterness. "I’m almost jealous of him. My other self. He didn’t wait for Horus to come to him—he sought him out. Assertive, relentless. They forged something genuine between them... a bond I can barely imagine."

For a moment, Amael was silent, lost in thought, then he smirked faintly. "And you, Father... you’re truly ruthless. To ask me to strip away the Eyes my former self gave Sylvia and Lisandra—out of love, no less. I remember my first meeting with them. I did try to recover the Eyes. But then grandfather himself stopped me."

Nihil remained calm. "For the sake of the world, sacrifices must be made. Will you set aside your emotions, Amael? Will you do what is necessary, even if it means tearing away what was given in love?"

Amael was quiet for a long time. His gaze lowered, shadowed by hesitation, before he slowly raised it again to meet his father’s eyes.

"Let me see him one last time. Then I will decide."