Chapter 45: Let’s Talk About You First

Chapter 45: Let's Talk About You First

"You wish to speak to Azazel?" Draven scratched his goatee, glancing across the water-barriered bedroom at Sebastian. The scene was slightly awkward.

Sebastian wasn't even looking at him. Instead, he stood at Acier's bedside, gently running his fingers through her hair. A soft smile touched his lips as Acier blushed slightly but made no effort to pull away.

Dorothy, Nozel, Lilith, Nathan, and Jonna observed the scene with a mix of expressions.

Dorothy found it cute.

Nozel was fighting a losing battle with his twitching eyebrow.

Lilith looked indifferent, even a little bored.

Nathan and Jonna mumbled something inaudible, their bodies stiff with discomfort.

Noelle wasn't in the room—she was off with her grandmother. Amara, of course, hadn't been invited to these daily appointments. It was enough for her to know that Acier was recovering. She didn't need to know how, lest her old age loosen her tongue. One slip could plunge House Silva into public outrage for "associating" with blasphemous devil worshippers.

Even if Augustus, against all odds, stood up for them—a slim chance, given his indoctrination to oppose anything related to devils—it wouldn't matter. One king alone couldn't placate an entire nation. House Silva wouldn't survive long under the kingdom's current attitude toward devils.

Perhaps things would change if Nacht ever began openly using his devil powers in service of the kingdom as a Magic Knight. But that was a matter for the future.

For now, it was the same reason Solid and Nebra weren't here. Solid, only four years old, would probably have the wits scared out of him at the sight of a devil. As for Noelle, when she was present, her baby brain probably thought Azazel and Cimeies were adorable little toys.

Still running his fingers through Acier's hair, Sebastian finally glanced back at Draven and nodded.

"Yes. Alone as well. Will that be a problem?"

Draven narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly to the right, his gaze fixed on his shoulder. Everyone watched as small black particles floated there, coalescing into a pitch-black impish figure.

Once again, the bite-sized Azazel materialized into existence: goat-like horns curling from his head, pupil-less white eyes gleaming, short angelic wings stained black, and a stubby goat tail completing his eerie form.

Azazel looked up at Draven, and the two shared a silent exchange. After a moment, Draven gave a subtle nod—approval or permission.

Azazel floated off Draven's shoulder, flapping toward Sebastian before unceremoniously plopping himself on the man's head like a nesting bird.

Sebastian blanked for a moment, blinking in disbelief. He opened his mouth to protest but closed it again, teeth gritted as he forced a smile.

Forget it. I'm asking him for a favor—I can tolerate it. Besides... he's strangely soft and smooth. I'll just treat him like a pet cat.

Acier looked up at him with wry amusement, but Sebastian ignored her. Instead, he turned his gaze across the bed to Dorothy, nodding.

"All right, Dorothy. You can take the others away for your mother's appointment."

The petite, purple-haired girl grinned as her grimoire flew out, pages flipping rapidly. With a snap of her fingers, a swirling vortex of purple and pink hues enveloped the room.

In an instant, she and everyone else vanished, leaving only Sebastian and Azazel behind.

Sebastian inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself and steady his racing heart, before sitting on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the doorway.

Azazel, seemingly satisfied, fluttered down from Sebastian's head and hovered in front of him, their eyes level. The devil was the first to speak.

"You've finally approached me," Azazel began, its voice an unsettling blend of heaviness and squeakiness, distinctly otherworldly. "Took you a bit longer than I'd expect for someone of your intelligence, even after Young Master Nacht dropped you that hint."

Sebastian remained unfazed, though his jaw tightened slightly as Azazel continued. "Well, I suppose I can't blame you. Certain individuals are working hard to make sure you don't notice certain things."

Azazel scrutinized him, his white, pupil-less eyes unblinking. "Your daughter will cancel her spell in approximately 42 minutes, but I won't give you more than 20 before I cease my summon. We're about to discuss many taboo things, the kind that attract certain...gazes. I have no intention of being possessed by Lucifero or suffering the consequences of my foolishness a third time. I don't think I'd survive."

The devil's voice lowered ominously. "So, if you have questions, I suggest you start voicing them."

Sebastian cracked his knuckles, clasping his hands as he nodded, ready to speak. But Azazel interrupted him again.

"In the absence of time, prioritize the questions that concern you most. The deeper truths of this world can wait—assuming I'm not smited on the spot for entertaining this conversation."

Azazel let out an eerie laugh, the sound sending a chill down Sebastian's spine. He noticed a slight tremble in the devil's figure, along with a bead of sweat rolling down its round, blackened head.

"As for me," Azazel continued, "all you need to know right now is that I've fallen twice. The first time, from the heavens, as an angel who lost grace and became the seventh-ranking supreme devil ruling over the third level of the underworld—for my gall. The second time, I was crippled into the mid-ranking trash you see before you—for gazing at something I shouldn't have."

The devil's voice softened, a bitter edge creeping in. "The Azazel you've read about in Judeo-Christian demonology? That's me, more or less."

Sebastian bit his lip, his mind racing as he recalled fragments of a dream—Lucius' haunting words echoing in his memory:

Watch the frailty of the human heart. The pitiful and vulnerable souls That One cursed us with.

His teeth clenched, his voice hoarse and tinged with desperation as he spoke. "Can I at least know who That One is?"

"God," Azazel replied without hesitation. His tone was flat, but he quickly elaborated. "And I don't mean those minor deities or beings with slight divinity who dare call themselves gods. Not that statue in the seabed temple mistaken for Leviathan, nor Dryad, nor the God of Fate, nor any other. I'm speaking of the one above all. The omniscient. The omnipotent. He who sees everything and, supposedly, created everything."

"Supposedly?" Sebastian narrowed his eyes but quickly shook his head. He could feel it—Azazel wouldn't say more.

Sebastian got straight to the point. "Diving into my memories, diving into Acier's memories—is it safe?"

A moment passed, and Sebastian's eyes widened in shock. Azazel seemed to glitch in and out of existence, flickering like a bug in some video game, as though he were being censored or deleted from reality. Then, just as suddenly, he stabilized, returning to his usual form.

Talking about God isn't taboo, but this is an issue?!

The fallen angel trembled violently, heavy sweat streaming down his round forehead. His wide, ghastly mouth opened as he nearly spat his words at Sebastian.

"Damn it! Do we have some sort of problem?! Do you want to kill me?!"

Sebastian stared, speechless, as the devil wiped his forehead with his small, chibi-like hands, still trembling.

"T-thankfully... t-thankfully..." Azazel stammered, his voice shaky. "It seems He's giving me permission to answer you... but He wouldn't let me off without a warning."

Who is He?! Sebastian's thoughts were written plainly across his face, though some deep instinct told him Azazel wasn't talking about Lucius—or even That One.

Azazel, a being with the power to glimpse heavenly secrets, didn't need words to read the question burning in Sebastian's mind. Gathering himself, he pointed a tiny, trembling finger at the man, his tone sharp.

"No more questions. I know what you want to ask, so shut up and listen. I'll answer what I can. If I don't explain something, it's because I either don't know or don't dare to say. So unless you want to wish death on me, don't voice those questions."

The devil paused, then added with a biting edge, "Curing your wife is nearly impossible without me. And Master Draven seems quite fond of me. I doubt he'd help you if you were the cause of my death."

For good measure, Azazel twisted the knife. "Just know he's not entirely pleased with your company after what you did to Young Master Nacht."

Sebastian clicked his tongue, leaning back slightly on the bed and resting his hands on his lap. I guess it's Q&A time—with only the A part, he thought with a dry chuckle.

Azazel raised one of his tiny fingers, his tone finally calm. "To answer your question—no, it won't be dangerous. In fact, it will be beneficial to your wife and to you in particular."

He continued, "You'll get some answers to questions you've been avoiding. Like why you never felt much when taking a life."

Sebastian tensed for a moment but said nothing. Azazel pressed on. "To maximize the boons from the dive, combine dream magic with memory magic."

Sebastian nodded. He'd already been planning something along those lines.

Azazel scratched his cheek before continuing, his voice steady yet grave. "Let's get to the heaviest topic—the one you've been circling for a while. You've been noticing it, piecing it together since that dream of yours... and more recently, from your realization this morning."

Sebastian's fingers clawed into the mattress beneath him, bracing himself as Azazel pressed on.

"Maybe my transmigration isn't a transmigration? Maybe it was a rebirth, and certain events caused that rebirth to turn into a reincarnation?"

The devil's pupil-less gaze bore into him. "That's what you're asking yourself right now, isn't it?"

Sebastian swallowed hard and nodded.

Azazel's expression softened into something somber—almost pitying, his thin lips forming a grim line. "Or rather, that's what you're telling yourself. You're convincing yourself it's the truth. Because the real truth—the possibility that this was never a second life to begin with, that this is and has always been your one and only life—is too hard to bear."

"THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"

Sebastian's roar shattered the tension, his voice hoarse and raw as his bloodshot eyes bore into Azazel. Cold sweat trickled down his temple as his chest heaved with ragged breaths.

He waved the devil off furiously, his words tumbling out in heated disbelief. "My life, my Earth, my Aurora—none of that was a lie! I remember everything clearly! Her likes, her dislikes, my ups and downs with my friends, my struggles, the taste of food, the smell of home! The laws of science and physics that even translate into this world! How can something like that possibly be fake?!"

Azazel hovered silently, letting the outburst settle. After a pause, he spoke softly.

"Why can't the fake feel real? Why can't the fake become real, even for a moment?"

Sebastian opened his mouth to retort, but Azazel cut him off, his tone sharper now.

"Your daughter—a mere 15-year-old girl who just received her grimoire—commands an infinite world of illusions. Illusions that manifest as reality. She has a seemingly godlike power that allowed her to weave a nightmare for Young Master Nacht, where every sense, every emotion, told him it was real. If he hadn't woken up, he'd never have believed it was just a dream."

Sebastian froze, his mouth halfway open, as the devil's point struck home.

"If a 15-year-old girl can do that," Azazel pressed on, "why couldn't something—or someone—far greater do the same to you?"

Sebastian tried to speak, but Azazel waved him off again. "I said no questions. I know what you want to ask, and I'll answer what I can. But first, let me finish."

Azazel's gaze hardened. "Does this world—the world of Black Clover—feel fake to you?"

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard.

Taking a moment, Sebastian summoned his mana, letting the cool water circulate through his veins to ease his nerves. Slowly, his breath steadied, and he asked, "Are you going to tell me?"

Azazel nodded, still in that same detached tone. "For simplicity's sake, let's assume you really did transmigrate into the world of Black Clover. That would make this a shounen world, correct?"

Sebastian hesitated but nodded. "Yes."

The devil floated closer, forcing Sebastian to lower his gaze slightly. "And among shounen works, Black Clover is a very... shounen, shounen—an amalgamation of many typical tropes and ideas, right?"

Sebastian nodded again, unsure where this was headed.

Azazel smirked and pointed a tiny claw toward him. "Now, would you consider your youngest child the female lead of this world? The go-to love interest destined to end up with the main character?"

Sebastian's brow twitched. No boys for Noelle. Ever. Suppressing his immediate objection, he exhaled slowly and relented. "From the perspective of the original work? Yes. Noelle would undoubtedly be the female lead."

Azazel's smirk widened. "And that right there is the biggest issue."

Sebastian's eyes narrowed. "How?"

Azazel read the unspoken question in his expression and pressed on. "Typical shounen tropes dictate that the female lead, especially if she's a princess or nobility, has a father who falls into one of three categories: a legendary powerhouse, a meek and inconsequential figure, or dead."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "And what's wrong with that?"

The devil's irritation flared. "If you'd shut up and listen, I'll tell you."

Sebastian huffed but said nothing further.

Azazel continued, now with an edge of annoyance. "The problem is, you're none of those things—or rather, you couldn't be verified as any of them. Why? Because you were completely absent and unmentioned in the original work."

Sebastian froze. A sickening churn began to twist in his stomach as the pieces of Azazel's implication began falling into place.

Noelle Silva's father had long been hypothesized to be some archetypal cold-hearted, abusive noble. Yet, in the original story, he was barely a presence—little more than a silhouette and a single line that might have been spoken by Nozel instead.

If Azazel's claims were true—if Sebastian's previous life was nothing more than a dream and he had always been Sebastian—then whoever orchestrated that dream had been meticulous in its construction.

Perhaps He intentionally gave Sebastian a watered-down version of Black Clover to read, designed to nudge him toward specific thoughts and actions that aligned with His agenda. Furthermore, by omitting any mention of Sebastian in the original work, He may have been avoiding the risk of Sebastian resonating with that character, which could have triggered unforeseen consequences.

But then came the bigger question: why would Lucius—or He—target Sebastian in the first place?

Sebastian wasn't physically powerful in the grand scheme of things. However, his political influence, resources, and connections gave him the potential to sway the story's direction. In just 12 days, Sebastian had already changed so much. A "nobody" wouldn't have survived encounters with beings like Draven and Lilith—they would have killed him outright once they realized he knew the secrets of their Houses.

A "nobody" wouldn't have saved Conrad's wife and squad, forged a connection with Damnatio, won over Augustus, or initiated societal reforms that could reshape the kingdom.

Lucius likely wanted to stifle human progress, ensuring they didn't grow too strong and complicate his plans for the future. Manipulating Sebastian, the Lord of House Silva—long known for its cold indifference and disdain for commoners—was the ideal move.

He didn't need Augustus; House Kira was already adept at suppressing people. House Vermillion wasn't an option either, as their compassion and humanity would make any uncharacteristic behavior suspicious. But Sebastian? If he acted cold or cruel, it would align perfectly with the world's expectations of him.

Conversely, if He—this unseen benefactor—was in some kind of invisible war with Lucius, then freeing Sebastian from Lucius's control would serve a different purpose. By guiding Sebastian to lead and revolutionize humanity, He could strengthen the kingdom's ability to oppose Lucius.

Sebastian wasn't just a pawn on a chessboard. He was a contested piece, one that neither side wanted to remove but instead sought to sway.

The realization gnawed at him. Fate's strings tugging at his every move was one thing—everyone dealt with that to some degree—but to be meticulously manipulated into believing and doing certain things? That was far harder to accept.

Sebastian didn't trust his invisible benefactor. There was no chance this being was acting out of pure altruism. There had to be something in it for Him. Oddly, that thought didn't bother Sebastian much—he would have been more unnerved if this being had pretended to be a selfless savior.

What he couldn't accept, however, was the possibility that his future actions, believed to be of his own free will, might ultimately bring harm to the things he cherished most.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. Good thing I haven't been overly insistent on following the "canon" I read in that dream.

The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. He felt nauseated even thinking of it as such.

Sebastian forced a shaky smile, his lips trembling as he looked at Azazel. The devil cocked his head, studying him with an impish curiosity.

"So, do you admit it now?" Azazel asked. "That you are Sebastian Silva, and there is—has only ever been—Sebastian Silva?"

Sebastian clenched his fists, the sound of cracking knuckles echoing faintly as he rolled his shoulders. "Do I have any other choice?" His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "With all that evidence, I'd be delusional not to."

The devil smiled faintly, scratching at his tiny, red cheeks. "And how does that make you feel?"

Sebastian leaned back onto the bed with a rough exhale, his head tilting up to stare at the ceiling. Small bursts of water mana cleansed his tear-streaked face, though they did little to cool the storm in his chest.

"Devastated... but also so very happy," he admitted, his tone heavy with self-loathing. "And that makes me disgusted with myself."

"Oh?" Azazel arched an imaginary brow and floated closer, his curiosity piqued. "Care to explain?"

Sebastian spread his arms wide, as if gesturing to everything around him. "All of this—House Silva, this beautiful family, Acier, and the kids—they're actually mine." His voice cracked, brimming with conflicted emotion. "That makes me so happy because..."

Now I don't have to feel guilty about returning her feelings.

As if on cue, the inner voice in Sebastian's mind spoke up, its tone hoarse and bittersweet:

You better never hurt her.

Sebastian's eyes narrowed, but he didn't respond aloud. If that voice truly was his inner self, it should already know he'd never even dream of such a thing.

Scratching his cheek, Sebastian shifted the conversation. "I've got a question."

Azazel sighed in irritation. "Didn't I say no more questions?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I'm only asking one. Whether you answer or not is up to you. Besides, I've already asked plenty despite your protests."

The devil's glare didn't stop Sebastian from continuing. "Why did you humor me? Why did you help me? And why didn't you tell Draven about me?"

Azazel paused, his expression tightening. His voice, when he finally spoke, was tinged with unease. "What He says is law. Even in my prime, I would never dare defy Him—except, perhaps, that one time Samyaza dragged us into his audacious sins."

He folded his arms, his tone growing distant. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it to keep Master Draven safe and, perhaps, to earn my way back into His good graces someday."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, his mind racing. "If He's so powerful and at odds with Lucius, why doesn't He just wipe him out? Why rely on lowly humans like me?"

Azazel pursed his lips, hesitant. He seemed to be searching for some internal sign—a warning that he was stepping too far. When none came, he spoke carefully.

"He's... a bit of a zealot. That One has forbidden His angels from interfering directly with humanity unless humanity approaches them first or unless ordered otherwise. Until then, He won't make any moves that could be interpreted as harming a human."

Angels? Sebastian's eyes narrowed further. Had Azazel slipped up? He forced his emotions into check, masking his intrigue as he asked a seemingly unrelated question.

"Just like how there are ranks among devils, are there ranks among angels... like archangels?"

Azazel nodded absentmindedly. "Of course. There are eight of them. Well, six now, since Lucifer and Satanael fell from grace."

Lucifer, not Lucifero? Sebastian's suspicions deepened. He pressed on, carefully choosing his next words. "By any chance, does His name start with an M—"

Before he could finish, Azazel's expression shifted, panic flashing across his face. In an instant, the devil unsummoned himself, vanishing without a trace.

Sebastian clicked his tongue as he sat up on the bed, muttering under his breath.

"Coward."

The word escaped with a snort, carrying no real heat, just an edge of exasperation. Narrowing his eyes in thought, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

The world of Black Clover carries so many religious themes, Sebastian mused. Churches, crosses, priests, even the Kabbalah's Tree of Life.

Azazel's words lingered in his mind, and Sebastian couldn't help but suspect that the so-called "big boss" was connected to the angelic hierarchy. Two names surfaced as the most likely candidates:

Michael—the chief angel in Christianity—or Metatron, the greatest angel in many Jewish traditions.

The thought made him restless. Rising to his feet, he began pacing around the room, his water barrier shimmering faintly as it encased the space in an aura of protection. His shoulders sagged under the weight of exhaustion, but his mind raced with trepidation.

"Gods, minor deities, devils, angels, and humans... Is this still Black Clover?" he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Don't tell me we're heading toward some kind of divine war..."

He stopped mid-step, shaking his head as if to banish the overwhelming thoughts. "Whatever. That's a problem for future me... and a problem for the future Clover Kingdom."

Exhaling slowly, Sebastian turned his focus back to the present. "Right now, I need to do something about these memories. For that, I'll need to get in touch with Francois."

Returning to the bed, he reclined on his side, stretching his legs out while keeping the shimmering barrier firmly in place. His thoughts began to drift between planning for the days ahead and waiting for Dorothy to lead the others back from the Glamour World.

Despite the chaos of the day, Sebastian noticed a peculiar lightness in his chest. His world may have felt like it was crumbling, but for the first time since "waking up," he didn't feel out of place.

He smiled faintly to himself.

Not a bad feeling.

Author's Notes:

[1] Azrael is the arch angel of death in some abrahamic religions, predominantly Islam

[2] Samyaza is the leader of a group of angels called the Grigori or watchers, that fell from grace after defying several mandates of heaven. Azazel was a leading member

[3] Feel free to join the discord: https://discord.gg/s3MME8X8a