Mythology Rebooted
Chapter 1309 - 439: How can I make Heaven a better place when I’m with you bunch of Insectoids! x4

Chapter 1309: Chapter 439: How can I make Heaven a better place when I’m with you bunch of Insectoids! x4

Felster had no interest in the workings of Heaven, nor did he care about the future of Hell. All he wanted was to guard his business empire in the Mortal World and live as a capitalist exploiting and oppressing the hardworking masses equally.

Everyone has cigarettes to smoke, everyone buys lottery tickets every month—where in this operation is he any less devilish? Who can accuse him of neglecting his true calling?

He’s even preparing to enter the alcoholic beverages and soft drinks market lately!

He recently acquired a patent for a carbonated beverage and felt it had great potential; he was already planning to invest in building a factory.

"Damn war, delaying my site selection..."

Felster muttered a complaint, flipping off the direction where Prussia lay, wishing that Little Mustache would hurry up and go to Hell.

Felster, cigar in mouth, squinted his eyes as he enjoyed the service of his two new secretaries. A moment later, amidst an emptiness, he tasted the bitter flavor of vexation.

He couldn’t calm his heart to enjoy the pleasures of this flashy world.

With furrowed brows, the term ’Saint Heir’ lingered in his mind, refusing to fade away. Though he cared neither for Heaven nor Hell, he was very much intrigued by Heavenly Father’s child in the Mortal World.

"The Saint Heir must surely be Heavenly Father’s child. Only His child would be worthy of being called divine..."

"Why does the Saint Heir exist? Why have I never heard of this prophecy before?"

"The Saint Heir..."

"Who exactly is it?"

Because of Heavenly Father, Felster was particularly focused on the Saint Heir. His favorite flashy world no longer held his interest.

"The Saint Heir couldn’t possibly be an ordinary person. They must possess traits befitting divinity—a noble character, extraordinary wisdom, boundless compassion for all beings, and self-sacrificing dedication..."

Felster thought about it for a moment and then remarked in exasperation, "These requirements are far too stringent. Even Heavenly Father and the Seven Virtues can’t live up to them! I couldn’t pull it off even if I acted the part. And as for humanity in the Mortal World? Impossible."

"Wait a minute—if I somehow really managed to play the part perfectly, could the Seven Virtues mistake me for the Saint Heir and bring me up to Heaven?" Felster’s eyes lit up as he imagined the grand scene of ascending to Heaven.

He leaned against the Crucifix, raising both arms, preaching of God’s love for mankind. Kneeling at his feet were the Seven Virtues, who brought up the idea of renegotiating the Kingdom of Heaven’s Vice-Regent. Michael clung to his leg, pleading with relentless desperation.

When he refused to agree, Michael burst into tears. Enraged, Felster kicked Michael to the ground.

Then, under the label of a traitor, he cast Michael into Hell, eagerly anticipating the scene where Michael and the Seven Demon Kings bared their fangs at one another face-to-face.

Ha.jpg

Not a bad idea!

As he continued scheming, the light in Felster’s eyes dimmed. Saddened, he muttered, "The Saint Heir has nothing to do with character. There are no real Saints in this world. No matter how convincing my act is, it will never make those seven give me a second glance..."

Felster was quite self-aware: the act wouldn’t help for one thing, and for another, he simply couldn’t pull it off. He could play a lowlife like Wayne with ease—just tone it down a bit and go to town without even needing a script.

But portraying an idealized Saint Heir? What, are they trying to kill him?

Even if he conceded and went all out, Felster’s name as an ’Insectoid’ was infamous throughout Lundan. How would anyone explain such a sudden conversion? Surely he couldn’t fabricate some "death and resurrection from which I attained enlightenment" excuse?

What a joke. Who in their right mind just dies and resurrects themselves for no apparent reason? The Reincarnated Angels would have to be insane to buy that.

One careless move, and it’d stir suspicion that could expose his identity.

The opportunity cost of silence was far too high—rash decisions were simply out of the question.

"If the Saint Heir isn’t defined by character, then there must be some other distinguishing feature. Otherwise, with so many people on the God-chosen Continent, those seven would spend their entire lives searching without success..."

"Heaven’s bureaucracy always moves at a snail’s pace—those three Seraphim are probably clueless about the Saint Heir’s traits, while those four Seven Virtues each represent their own interests..."

"Got it! That’s why all four descended to the Mortal World, along with the two Archangels!"

Felster theorized out loud, starting with arrogant self-praise of his unparalleled intelligence, then continuing, "Getting the Saint Heir’s exact traits from those four is unrealistic. Because of the Hell Seal, Hexuno is unable to challenge my authority in the Mortal World, and that little Nun is subservient to Wayne. Wayne absolutely knows who the Saint Heir is..."

"If I manage to capture him and bring him back to Hell, then just throw in a few Succubi to seduce and interrogate him. Someone like him would surely spill the Saint Heir’s secrets!"

"No way. That would expose my identity—and let’s be honest, trading the Mortal World for just one Saint Heir isn’t worth it..."

After thoroughly analyzing the situation, Felster ultimately decided to wait it out.

He didn’t know what the Saint Heir looked like, but that didn’t matter. The Seven Virtues knew he knew, and with Hell’s fervent desire to find the Saint Heir, they were bound to intensify their search.

All he had to do was keep up the music and dancing, and eventually, he would discover who the Saint Heir was.

"Makes perfect sense!"

"Looks like I don’t even have the option of slacking off now!"

Felster grinned widely, grinning until he abruptly realized something was off.

"Those fools—they know I know, and they also know I’ve spent a long time looking for the Saint Heir. Could they misunderstand and assume I’ve been staying in Lundan because the Saint Heir is in Lundan?"

"What a ridiculous misunderstanding! If only I’d explained before self-detonating..."

"Oh, but angels who lie through their teeth would never trust an honest devil. The more I explain, the more they’ll think I’m hiding the truth."

"Classic me—self-destructing in time and leaving no room for their misunderstandings."

With this thought, Felster relaxed. The insect-like scum permeating Lundan, coupled with its abundance of degenerates, made it inconceivable for the Saint Heir to be there. That godforsaken place only attracted devils.

The Reincarnated Angels would waste some time before ultimately moving on.

This plan was foolproof!

"What does the Saint Heir truly look like?"

"Waiting again—it’s enough to drive a devil mad."

————

Bam!

"Look at what you’ve done—the devil is laughing himself to death!"

Whitehall Palace, banquet hall. The Reincarnated Angels were gathered en masse. The mild-mannered Vikul furiously slammed the table, chastising his three inept colleagues.