CHAPTER 89: GODS’ PREFECT LITTLE PETS

I leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching Belle sprawled lazily across the couch like she owned the place which, to be fair, she technically did. The TV flickered in front of her, some early morning talk show playing, all cartoonic smiles and fake laughter.

"So," I said, raising my voice just enough for her to hear, "what do you want for breakfast?"

Without looking away from the screen, she said, "Instant noodles."

I blinked. "...That’s not breakfast."

"It is now."

I exhaled through my nose, half amused, half resigned. "Fine. Instant noodles it is." I started rummaging through the cabinets when a thought hit me, freezing me mid-motion.

Wait.

How exactly was she watching the TV?

I turned toward her, brow furrowing. "Hey, question."

"Mm?"

"How are you watching that? You know—" I gestured vaguely toward the blindfold covering her eyes. "with that whole situation going on."

Belle didn’t even flinch. "I can still see, just not like you do."

I frowned. "...Meaning?"

"I see hazy silhouettes," she said, tone casual, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "Shapes. Movements. Everything’s in gray and white. I can still make out people’s expressions, read, and navigate. Just... differently."

I nodded slowly. "Right. Totally makes sense."

She turned her head slightly in my direction. "You have no idea what I just said, do you?"

"Absolutely not."

Belle sighed, long and weary, like a mother realizing her child just tried to microwave plastic again. "Okay. Imagine the world as a painting."

"Alright."

"Now imagine someone dumped water all over it, smudging all the colors into gray, but you can still tell what’s in it if you look closely."

I blinked. "So... you’re seeing everything like it’s part of some sad watercolor painting?"

"Exactly."

"...That’s actually kind of poetic."

She turned back toward the screen, clearly done explaining. "You’re hopeless."

"Maybe," I said, setting the pot on the stove with a grin, "but at least I’m the one who knows how to cook noodles."

"Barely."

"I heard that."

"You were supposed to."

---

I poured the steaming noodles into a single oversized bowl, because washing two bowls was too much effort for me, and stuck a fork on each side. Belle was still glued to the TV, legs folded under her, her blindfold tilted just enough to look relaxed instead of formal.

I plopped down beside her, setting the bowl between us. "Alright," I said, handing her a fork. "Breakfast of champions."

"Breakfast of people who gave up on cooking," she corrected, but she took the fork anyway.

"Semantics," I muttered, twirling the noodles around my fork.

For a while, we just sat there, slurping noodles in silence while the ridiculous cartoon played on the screen, something about a penguin who wanted to become a swordmaster. It was absurd. And honestly? Kind of perfect.

Then the channel flickered.

The bright colors vanished, replaced by a blaring red banner that read BREAKING NEWS in all caps.

I raised an eyebrow. "That’s not part of the episode, right?"

Belle groaned, clearly irritated. "If someone just interrupted my show for another one of those political broadcasts, I swear—"

The TV crackled, and a reporter appeared on screen, a young woman with jet-black hair, onyx eyes, and hands trembling just enough to be noticeable. Her voice wavered as she spoke, trying to sound composed but failing miserably.

"T-this just in," she said. "Reports are coming in from the Neutral Continent... the angels stationed there, those who serve as divine representatives of the eighteen gods, have engaged in direct combat."

My fork froze mid-air.

"The cause of the conflict is still unknown," the reporter continued, "but eyewitnesses confirm that the Angel of the Goddess of Light and the Angel of the Goddess of Darkness were involved. The scale of destruction is... catastrophic."

A shaky pause. Then she swallowed, voice dropping lower.

"Half of Neutrum has been completely leveled. Casualty estimates are already in the tens of millions, spanning across all races. The devastation is said to rival a nuclear-level event."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the TV.

Belle’s fork clinked softly against the bowl. "...So much for neutrality," she muttered.

I leaned back on the couch, the weight of her words and the broadcast settling over me like a shadow. "Guess even gods’ pets can’t play nice forever."

The screen flickered again, showing shaky footage, what looked like a city reduced to rubble, the sky split open by divine light and shadow still crackling faintly across the horizon.

I felt something twist in my gut. A familiar sense of dread.

This wasn’t just news. This was the kind of event that reshaped history.

Belle, still facing the screen, sighed softly. "Things are going to change."

"Yeah," I said quietly. "And not for the better."

I leaned forward on the couch, the fork hanging loosely from my fingers as the reporter’s voice faded into static. The screen switched to a map of the Neutral Continent well, what used to be the Neutral Continent. Now, half of it was just... gray. Ash.

My mind started turning.

The cause of the fight? No clue. Nothing came up. No leaks, no rumors. Angels didn’t just fight. They were the divine order the gods’ perfect little messengers, the symbols of peace in a world that barely remembered what that word meant.

And yet here we were.

I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my hair as I leaned back into the couch, eyes fixed on the muted news feed.

The world we lived in wasn’t small. It never had been. The supercontinent of Kizarvoss stretched farther than anyone could map, at least ten times the size of my old planet, maybe more. A single stretch of land surrounded by endless oceans no one dared to cross.

Because beyond those waters lay chaos, spatial storms that could shred SS-ranks like paper, and worse things that even the gods didn’t name.

Each race carved out its place on that massive circle of land.

To the west of the human empire, Velkaris were the elves, all forests and starlight, acting like they were above it all. To the east, the demons ruthless, brilliant, and always one bad day away from setting the world on fire.

The demons bordered the dwarves, whose steel cities carved mountains into fortresses. The dwarves had the beastmen to their north feral, proud, and strong enough to wrestle a wyvern barehanded. Then came the vampires, living under eternal night, their domain cloaked in crimson mist.

And after them, the elves again, completing the circle.

At the heart of it all, suspended like the calm eye of a storm, was the Neutral Continent.

Neutrum.

Ruled not by kings or councils, but by angels eighteen of them, one for each god. They were supposed to embody balance.

Law.

Order.

Each one is powerful enough to flatten armies with a whisper. SSS-rank entities, living reminders that mortals were meant to behave.

It was the only place where all races coexisted, if you could call it that. Humans, demons, elves, vampires, all jammed together under divine supervision. The air there was thick with forced civility, and the hatred ran just beneath the surface.

Even so, it worked barely.

Because no one was allowed to bring armies into Neutrum. No weapons of war, no mana cannons, no battalions. The angels enforced that rule with the kind of authority you didn’t question. You didn’t even think about breaking it.

And now two of the, the Angel of Light and the Angel of Darkness, had gone to war right in the middle of that so-called peace.

The irony was almost funny.

Almost.

I stared at the flickering screen, watching the ruined skyline of Neutrum as a single thought lingered in the back of my mind quiet, unwelcome.

If beings like them could lose control... what chance did the rest of us mortals have?