"As punishment for offending me, I'll just pin you under a mountain for five hundred years with your butt sticking out."
These words fell upon Jibril's ears, causing her to freeze completely.
Meow meow meow? Are my ears playing tricks on me?
What kind of punishment was this?
"Emmm, I guess that punishment is still too light."
The youth's eyes narrowed into a sly squint. His smile was bright and sunny, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a warmth that made one want to get closer.
But—
In stark contrast were his utterly inhuman words.
"Indeed, raising it to a thousand years would be better."
Very casually, the youth extended a slender, elegant finger and poked the cheek of the suspended girl, musing to himself.
"That way, you can become sworn brothers with the Monkey King, Sun Wukong. You could even try to establish seniority based on your prison sentence and become the big boss."
"..."
Jibril was silent.
She had no idea who this "Sun Wukong" was, but she understood one thing with perfect clarity.
The man before her was a super-duper, grade-A bastard.
Pinning someone under a mountain for a millennium with their butt sticking out, and then advising the victim to form a sworn brotherhood with someone who was probably also pinned down, using the years of imprisonment as seniority to become a gang leader...
Is this something a human being would do?
"Of course, if you're willing to give me your feathers to stuff a down duvet, I can pretend this never happened."
The youth, who found Jibril's feathers to be quite beautiful, very naturally placed his hand on the Flügel's most sensitive area—her wings.
A bizarre sensation, like an electric current shooting up her spine, made Jibril's body instinctively tremble.
"Get your hands off me!"
"Oh my, I almost forgot the lore states that the wings are the true body of a Flügel."
As if he had just remembered something, the youth—whose innate mischievousness was becoming more apparent now that his hunting instinct had subsided—remarked with wonder as he looked at the expression on her face, which was like that of a maiden whose virtue was in peril.
"According to the lore, the base of the wings is an organ ten times more sensitive to a Flügel than even their reproductive areas."
And then—
Words straight out of a nightmare fell upon Jibril's ears.
"This kind of lore is just so interesting."
The girl watched as a slightly amused smile bloomed on the man's face, and for the first time in her life, she felt an emotion called fear.
"You... you stay away, sob..."
...
Ten minutes later, Jibril stared blankly at the sky, her face a picture of utter despair, with crystalline tears still shimmering in the corners of her eyes.
"I'll kill you. I'll definitely kill you..."
Beside her was the scoundrel who had just confirmed that Jibril's feathers were more comfortable than any down duvet or pillow.
Perhaps next time I go to see the God of War, I can try asking for a pillow or a blanket made from Flügel feathers.
With his Origin suppressed, the youth's malicious personality seemed to be manifesting in his interactions with himself and others. He ignored the resentful muttering of the Flügel beside him and instead gazed into the distance.
Now, it was time for the real fun to begin.
The youth who had just kidnapped the most unique individual among the Flügel gazed into the distance.
As expected, he saw his future messengers.
A group of Flügel was rapidly flying towards them using their Heaven's Shift ability.
Emmm...
Calling them messengers wasn't quite right.
After all, besides using them to deliver a message, he also needed to use their lives to do the God of War a favor.
"Meow meow meow, let Little Jibril go!"
As if she'd encountered something completely unreasonable, the First Unit of the Flügel—Azriel, a war machine who had been bloodless and tearless for thousands of years—shouted at the youth opposite her like a complete fool.
"Jib-poo, big sis is here to save you!"
Run!!
As if by instinct, Jibril tried to transmit a message to her brethren who were heading this way.
She had initially thought she had just run into someone a little problematic, so she had notified her kin. But she never imagined that this person was the God of War's actual enemy.
The Flügel were indeed a god-slaying race.
But the God-Spirit they had collectively slain was just an ordinary one.
And the person who had captured her was an enemy of the God of War.
A being worthy of being considered an enemy by the God of War was definitely on a level where he could slaughter the entire Flügel race with ease.
He was not on a level they could possibly match!
But—
After Jibril cried out, nothing happened.
A certain someone had used the Authority of the Law of Reason to create a space devoid of spirits, cutting off the communication method that relied on them.
"Let Little Jibril go, now!"
Like an exasperated cat, the First Unit of the Flügel, who appeared clumsy and not very bright, continued to roar at the youth.
"Is that your relative?"
Very naturally, the youth turned his head and asked the Flügel he had captured.
"I don't know her."
Jibril lowered her head, truly unwilling to admit that the fool who meowed all day and had once even infected the God of War, Artosh, with her verbal tic was her own elder sister.
The situation was now painfully clear.
She had hit the jackpot, running into an enemy of the God of War the moment she stepped out, and had been defeated as a matter of course.
Then, her kin, who had received her earlier message, had arrived to offer up their heads.
The only silver lining was that this enemy of the God of War—who was likely a God-Spirit specializing in the mental domain—did not intend to have a falling out with Artosh just yet, and thus was unlikely to kill them.
In any case, the outcome was already set in stone—the entire Flügel race would be thoroughly beaten down. She couldn't be bothered to watch anymore.
"Hah? Little Jibril said she doesn't know me!"
As if struck by lightning, the girl's shoulders slumped in dejection.
Her eyes welled with tears, looking like an abandoned little animal.
Emm, a little animal that could tank a hydrogen bomb, as long as she didn't try to block it with her face like a certain sun god who shall not be named.
"Jib-poo, you can't abandon me, meow meow meow!"
Her display was so pathetic that even her own kin couldn't help but want to cover their faces.
"Alright, that's enough idle chatter."
Without further ceremony, the youth delivered another strike of the Feathers of Passage to Jibril's head, knocking her unconscious. He then looked at the group of Flügel in the distance.
"You're here for this one, right?"
He casually tore open a portal to Imaginary Space and tossed Jibril, who had been KO'd by the Feathers of Passage, inside.
Then, under the furious glares of all the Flügel, he smiled provocatively.
"Beat me, and I'll release her."