Soul Eater of the Rebellion

Divine Descent (Cole God).

The moment the Pope chanted the ceremony, the rapidly increasing magic power pushed like a gust. It's too dense, and even the physical oppression is too strong. If you were an adult, you would faint just by touching it, and it wouldn't be surprising if you were to be pruned to death -- that's the kind of power you have.

Shit!

Fly backward with your tongue.

If I lived on a soul eater, I wouldn't have to touch the magic power. However, there was no doubt that it was unpleasant, and there was a desire to stay as far away from the presence of this terrible magic power as possible.

Divine descent is a miracle in which the priest sends down God as his own body. It is the ultimate meaning of sacred magic alongside "revive" and "restore", and it is said that only Pope Noah Carnelius of the Divine Church can exercise this technique.

More precisely, it means that "only Pope Noah can live by exercising his power". The burden on the surgeon's mind and body is so heavy.

However, if the magician is not a human but an immortal king, you can ignore the burden.

I looked straight at Pope Sophia Azurite.

The Pope himself made it clear that the "god" in the Hikari Divine Religion was a dragon. Will the pope who has laid the dragon on his body be exhausted by skinning himself and becoming a human face snake, or will he show a completely different change?

The answer was immediately clear.

"Nnu!?"

The papal shrine clothes fluttered with anomalous sounds, revealing the white skin that was hidden underneath the clothes.

Somehow, beyond my wide-open gaze, a wing of shades reminiscent of the night emerged from the Pope's back. This wing seems to have ripped apart the clothes of the guru.

The number of wings was two to four. The figure of the Pope, whose black wings cover our sight, is like an angel painted in religious paintings, and for half an instant we see it.

The Pope's mutation did not stop there.

At the same time that the wings appeared, black stains appeared on the white and pure naked body. The stain eroded into the Pope's arms, into his legs, into his chest, and into his belly, and in the blink of an eye he dirtyed his white skin.

Then, at the next moment, blood splashes splattered from the site where the stain had appeared, and a black, puffy meat mass (scratch) crawled out from the skin tear. The meat mass clings to the Pope's body as it covers the wound it came out of, and changes its shape to melt.

It is a spooky word that an unfamiliar pile of flesh is invading the Pope's body while repeating a spooky peristaltic movement, and a man who knows nothing can only see the Pope being attacked by a slime creature.

Of course, that's not the case. If you look at the Pope's face, which hasn't changed at all since before, you can see that everything is going according to its intentions.

Honestly, I didn't want to see the sight of it, but if I turned my eyes away here, I would be exposed to the Pope. I winked at the Pope to discern the identity of the things that had jumped out of his body.

At the end of his gaze, the meat mass begins to take on a familiar shape.

At first, I didn't know what it was. But I understand right away.

Now you know it's not even me. It was something that everyone had seen and that everyone had.

It was an eye.

It was an ear.

It was a mouth.

There are many eyes, ears and mouths clinging to the Pope's arms, legs, chest and stomach.

I have confronted the existence of aliens several times before, but I don't remember the existence so far. in both a cosmetic and a practical sense.

At that time, my ears trembled with a loud voice that gushed up from the bottom of the earth. It is not the voice of the Pope. Of course, it's not my voice. It was a voice emanating from the countless mouths that appeared in the Pope's body.

"I am the sinner."

Along with those words, countless eyes stared at me.

"I am the one who hears sin."

If you don't hear a single sound I make, I can see that there are countless ears out there.

"I am the guilty one."

Male Voice, Female Voice, Adult Voice, Child Voice. A voice that encompassed every sound shook the tympanic membrane.

And the existence of the alien reveals its own name.

'I am the transgressor. On your knees, human. "

The moment the thing called Azrail said so, the magical power that had just blown up until then instantly became directional. A magic force similar to a giant hammer swung down at me, and the pressure was just crushing my whole body.

I'm sure they don't deserve to be called attackers, just intimidation. Still, if the bannerman ate this, he must have been on his knees unable to bear it. On the contrary, it may have been trampled like a trampled frog.

I cynically twisted my lips while enduring the opponent's pressure.

"I thought it would resemble a dragon when it came to descending." Is it a lie to worship a dragon? "

“No, I'm not lying.”

The response was not from Azrail, but from the pope's mouth.

“By bringing down God, I can now exercise my power to create fantasy seeds. This is the result of exercising that authority.”

Fantasy seeds, right?

Whispering: Azrail is a kind of fantasy created by the Pope in the power of a dragon.

If you can exercise the dragon's power, you don't bother to create another fantasy species, just use the dragon's power. I guess there's a reason why I can't do it.

Behind the Pope, I saw a dragon soaring like a tower, and I saw a great sword standing on the dragon's forehead.

It is not difficult to imagine that the dragon's power is weakened by being sealed by an atri. Therefore, instead of wielding the power of the dragon directly, did Sophia have to take the indirect method of producing fantasy seeds?

Alternatively, it is possible that the Pope's arsenal was insufficient to wield the dragon's power. If so, the power of Azrail is known to be high.

If there's a problem, if my guess is both wrong.

The dragon was not weak, and the Pope's arsenal was insufficient. Still, if the Pope dared to create Azriel, this fantasy species would be a natural enemy to me and Soul Eater. Otherwise, there is no reason for the Pope to choose Azrail over dragons.

Whether he read my thoughts or not, the Pope spun words like singing.

"Azriel is a sinner. The sickle is an artifact of judgment that divides the body from the soul. You know what that means, the one who devours the soul."

Separate body and soul. It's a kind of fantasy that has the power to act directly on the soul like a soul eater. In other words, you shouldn't say you're the same as Soul Eaters, but you should think you have the power to be close to them.

Besides, separating the body from the soul means that if you are attacked by him, you may be disconnected from me (Anima). For the Qinglin Bannerman, he was only a natural enemy.

Your nasty thoughts sprang up naturally.

But at the same time, I found it interesting. If it was this kind of opponent, it would have something to eat.

One of the purposes of my visit to the demon world was to devour a demon that was comparable to a fantasy species. There was no problem when the opponent switched from a "monster comparable to a fantasy species" to a "fantasy species".

Heart Excitement - Eat as much as you can, Soul Eater.

The pope smiled in a daze as he responded and pulled out his clothes.

With that expression, I wave my right hand wide.

I'm coming.

At some point, the Pope's right hand was gripped by a pitch-black scythe.