"Yah-hello! Are you here to take photos with me too?"

Like hell I am. Standing together in these outfits would look like an angel and demon cosplay gone wrong.

Sure, the Celestials’ embarrassing antics in the human realm weren’t my problem—but if the Father God caught this clueless angel slacking off, she’d rat me out in a heartbeat.

I lunged forward, yanking her down and dragging her into a corner.

"What are you doing here?! Wearing a magic puppet suit in the human world—are you insane? If the Father God finds out, I’ll be held responsible! Our deal might even be exposed!"

The golden-haired Celestial didn’t look remorseful at all. Instead, she shrieked back at the top of her lungs:

"Work, work, work! I’m trying my best, okay? There’s too much for one angel to handle! The Father God’s never around, and I’m the only Celestial in Heaven—big tasks, small tasks, all dumped on me! Has anyone considered how I feel? I’m exhausted! Is one day off really too much to ask?"

Her voice trembled. Tears welled up in her eyes as she bit her lip—a wronged soul straight out of legend.

"So," I pressed, "why are you really at this convention? Just for fun?"

"I told you—I needed a break! Jumping between worlds, running errands nonstop—I’m sick of it! Even office workers here get months of vacation. Why can’t an angel take one day off after decades of service?"

Fine. I surrendered. The Celestial Sister *was* swamped—overseeing multiple worlds. The Father God probably wouldn’t mind one day off.

"But seriously, Doom Dragon," she chirped, wiping her eyes, "this world is fascinating! Way more fun than Illusory World. Even as a Celestial, I can walk among humans without causing a scene."

Of course. No one bats an eye at flashy cosplay here—as long as you don’t strut down main street with real wings.

"Excuse me, cosplayer! Can I take a photo with you?"

"Sure thing!"

...

Celestials were beloved, yet their divine nature made them invisible to mortals. In that sense, she was as lonely as I was. Back in our world, even if we revealed ourselves, we’d never find peace: I was the Source of Ruin, shunned by all; she was a Celestial, forcing humans to bow their heads—not even the High Priest dared treat her as an equal. Here, we tasted genuine friendship. No labels. No barriers.

Since Celestial Sister was having fun, I wouldn’t ruin it. Just—*please*—no holy light showers! Was she trying to gather worshippers? Across the hall, Old Pervert waved frantically, signaling me to hurry to the stage. She was just on vacation anyway. Leaving her here was fine.

"Ohhh~! They’re here!"

"Why’s everyone so hyped, Old Pervert? What’s ‘here’?"

"Love Live cos-team! Believe it or not, those cosplayers are drop-dead gorgeous—especially ‘Ocean Lord’ (Honoka)! Her face? Straight out of the anime. Shatters the dimensional wall!"

Love Live? Famous, sure—but not my thing. Perfect for Shen Yufeng, though. Honestly, I only recognized the black-haired twin-tailed loli shouting "Nico Nico Ni." The rest? Sorry, face-blind here.

The crowd erupted, waving glow sticks. Shen Yufeng had shoved two into my hands too. Did I join their swaying frenzy? Not a chance. To me, it looked like a hundred mages chanting a chaos ritual.

I pocketed the glow sticks and slipped away. My friend was already entranced—eyes glazed, arms clawing the air like a demon’s. I sighed. Sorry, buddy. I can’t save you. The Four Great Heresies claim another soul.

I headed for the exit to find Xia Bing. With everyone distracted, maybe I’d squeeze out some useful intel.

*Snap. Snap.*

What was that?

My draconic hearing cut through the noise. A discordant metallic creaking—growing louder.

I looked up.

The convention’s makeshift stage shuddered. Bolts groaned loose overhead.

*Danger!* The cosplayers on stage were in trouble.

No time to think. Too many humans around—I couldn’t use magic. I sprinted onstage. The performing girls froze mid-routine. Security guards scrambled up, probably thinking I was some creep.

"Get off the—"

The steel frame above collapsed.

Instinct took over. I lunged, tackling the frontmost cosplayer to the ground.

(No misunderstandings—pushing her might’ve hurt her worse. Better to take the hit myself. Luckily, my wings absorbed the impact.)

"You okay?"

"A-ah… yeah."

She was dazed but unharmed. Still, a hospital checkup later wouldn’t hurt.

"Hey! Someone help! Get this beam off him!"

The pipe wasn’t crushing, but it stole my breath. Shen Yufeng rushed over.

"Bro, you alright?"

*Dude. If I weren’t a Doom Dragon, I’d be GG’d right now. You try taking a steel pipe to the back.*

"I’m fine—but lift this off before I’m *not* fine."

My black wings shielded me. People fussed over my "injuries," but I wanted to yell: *Stop worrying about me! Help her!*

...Okay, I did look worse off.

"Kid, you’re lucky! That pipe should’ve crushed you. Where’d you get that cosplay gear?"

*If I said ‘born with it,’ you’d believe me?* I just smiled faintly. "Handmade."

The girl I’d saved stood shakily, gripping my shoulder. Her breathing was uneven.

"Thank you… for saving me. But I think I twisted my ankle. Can you take me to the hospital?"

She was pretty—and oddly familiar.

Old Pervert slapped my back, winking. "She’s making a move! Your spring has come, brother. Jealous, but happy for you."

I tapped my horns. No reason to refuse.

Worried about her ankle, I hoisted her onto my back without asking. I’d texted Old Pervert to cover for me with Xia Bing and Auntie Mengmeng.

"Your back decorations are unique, mister."

"Yeah? Just a prop. Saved my life today, though."

"Eh~? If Doom Dragon wings can’t block a steel pipe… kinda weak, no?"

"Fair point…"

*Wait.* How did she know they were *dragon* wings?

I stopped walking. Something was off.

"Have… have we met before?"

"Of course. Thanks to that tackle, I remember everything now." Her voice turned icy. "Endsinger—Mordred. Don’t forget: *I’m* the Champion who pierced your chest with the Holyblade."

*This girl…*

*She’s the one who killed me in my past life?!*