Mythology Rebooted
Chapter 1315 - 440: I’ve walked on thin ice all my life, can you say whether I’ll make it to the other side?_3

Chapter 1315: Chapter 440: I’ve walked on thin ice all my life, can you say whether I’ll make it to the other side?_3

Wayne set down Hexuno in his arms and with a swift motion, cornered one of the twins against the wall.

"You—what are you doing?"

Vernar clasped her hands over her chest, utterly startled.

"Deit, what do you think of my character?"

"..."

"Speak up!"

"The High Priest said we’re not allowed to curse."

"Tch, you’re brutally honest."

Wayne pinched Vernar’s cheek and gave it a good tug, earning himself the achievement of bullying the poor synthetic girl before dashing upstairs to the master bedroom.

Inside the bedroom, Philomena lay facedown on a white pillow, half-covered by a sheet. Her golden hair spilled messily over her shoulders and back, which glistened with a painterly radiance.

"Wake up, there’s a pervert in the bedroom!" Wayne shook Philomena.

"Oh, shut up! I’m catching up on sleep—don’t bother me." Philomena didn’t even lift her head, her voice lazily dragging.

"Mina, let me ask you something serious. Do I look like the Saint Heir?"

"Saint Heir? What’s that?" Philomena tilted her head in confusion.

"It’s... how should I say this... someone who’s practically the epitome of sanctity in Heaven."

"Oh, I see..."

Philomena chuckled softly, sat up, wrapped her arms around Wayne’s neck, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Go away, stop messing around."

"Oh."

Wayne slinked downstairs dejectedly, glaring at Hexuno and Heya: "Well, I asked. Even my closest lover thinks I’m awful, and you know what? I’m not even mad, because she’s absolutely right."

"No, she hasn’t defeated her own desires yet. She’s stuck in darkness, unable to see the light, so she doesn’t understand your greatness." Hexuno insisted.

"What does greatness have to do with darkness? Turn the lights off, and clarity still reigns."

"..." x2

Hexuno’s eye twitched. Seeing Wayne’s expression, she quickly stopped his next inappropriate remark. "Lord Son of the Holy, why not ask Uriel and the others what they think?"

"Is that even necessary? I can already hear their laughter."

And indeed—it was there.

Hexuno was left speechless; she too faintly heard the laughter.

"See? Even the Seven Virtues won’t acknowledge the Saint Heir. How could I possibly be the Saint Heir?"

"No, it’s the Saint Heir who acknowledges the Seven Virtues. You define the Seven Virtues!"

Hexuno declared solemnly, explaining that the Heavenly Father precedes the Seven Virtues, the Saint Heir precedes the Seven Virtues, and their sequence must not be disrupted.

"..."

No, that wouldn’t do. The Seven Demon Kings might storm Heaven demanding copyright for the Seven Deadly Sins only to realize, bitterly, they were the pirates all along.

Wayne shook his head repeatedly. As disdainful as he felt towards Heaven and the Holy See, he had to admit—they were forces of order, stabilizing the chaos. If his antics led to the Reincarnated Angels losing track of the Saint Heir, thus disturbing Heaven and the Holy See, the fault would be monumental.

A person must know their limits. Wayne might dare to impersonate the Saint Heir for some embarrassing roleplay with Hexuno, but he’d never take it too far and fool the world.

Especially considering the real Saint Heir might show up, and he’d be cast as the villainous Devil in mere seconds. Beyond that, the profound identity of the Saint Heir—he’d wreak havoc pretending to embody it.

"I’m not the Saint Heir—there’s someone else who fits the role."

Wayne patted Hexuno’s shoulder. "I’ll help you find the real Saint Heir. Until then, don’t spread rumors to Uriel and the others. The consequences would be unbearable for both of us. Got it?"

"I understand!" Hexuno nodded enthusiastically.

"..."

Please let her actually understand.

Wayne sighed, glanced at his watch. "Let’s go. Heya, you’re coming too. I’ve got a meeting at Buckingham Palace. When we have time, let’s plan another card game."

"Archangel, I’ve lost so much I’ve practically sold my soul." Heya complained pitifully.

Selling one’s soul isn’t the saddest part—what’s truly tragic is selling it and not getting proper use out of it. The Archangel might let a young Nun fritter it away but wouldn’t spare Heya anything.

"Heya, she’s Hexuno."

"Archangel, there aren’t any outsiders here."

"..." x2

————

Buckingham Palace, banquet hall.

The same long table as yesterday, the same swarm of Insectoids, two extra chairs but minus one Bedford.

"Unbelievable. Bedford turned out to be the Great Demon King—I even treated him to dinner before!"

"That’s nothing. I’ve eaten dinner at his place!"

"I was chatting and laughing with the Great Devil of Hell; thinking back on it now, I feel chills."

"You’ve got a point!"

Felster nodded repeatedly. "This stuff would shake anyone. Just imagining the Great Demon King trying to snatch up my tobacco business—and I even cursed him a few times! My heart won’t stop racing. Do you think I’m destined for Hell?"

"Don’t overthink it. Without a Demon King’s curse, you’re still fated for Hell."

"You’ve got a point!"

Amidst the Insectoids’ mutterings, Queen Sophia, Uriel, and two Seraphs entered the hall.

Kiraal and Vikul were absent—the former’s whereabouts unknown, the latter deeply focused on searching for the Saint Heir.

This time they were punctual, not arriving ten minutes late.

However, this didn’t stop Wayne from being late.

After a full half-hour, Uriel’s expression darkened as he finally saw the detestable pretty-boy human and the pretty-boy’s similarly irritating father, the old pretty-boy.

Like father, like son—one glance and you’d know the old one was no good either.

Austin wasn’t old. Judging by appearances; he’s only a few years older than Wayne. When the two stood together, they looked more like brothers born of one father and mother.

But anyone in the know understood—they were blood-related father and son.

Last night’s meeting was hosted by Uriel’s underling, Bedford. Uriel got it all wrong and made a fool of himself. This time, he wouldn’t dare mess up. The Queen had her confidante, Ivette, preside instead.

Ivette, a veteran host, opened with a statement summarizing the meeting: Bedford was a Devil, and Mister Pedro and Mister Wayne had staged a drama to unmask him.

The meeting’s content was straightforward, commending Uriel and Wayne for their merits, praising Sophia’s and Austin’s leadership, and a bunch of flowery platitudes summing up neatly in one sentence.