Before Nakiri Azami appeared in the restaurant, insulting the girls from Alex’s family and making Nyaruko cry, Alex himself was in the kitchen with Freya. They had come to chat with Erina and Hisako, who were busy preparing dishes.

Alex sincerely wanted to help Erina heal from the emotional scars her father had left on her life. While helping with the cooking, he told the girls stories about each of his companions—so that Erina would understand she wasn’t the only one who had experienced pain and darkness. Freya sat elegantly nearby, sipping hot tea, occasionally adding her own comments to complement her husband’s stories.

The more Erina listened, the closer she felt to this remarkable family. She hadn’t expected that even goddesses had faced sorrow, or that valkyries had been willing to sacrifice themselves to save humanity from the wrath of other gods. Each story struck a chord in her heart, stirring empathy… and hope.

Alex’s words about the girls’ lives touched her deeply. He had truly changed them. Erina couldn’t help but wonder: what kind of offer was he planning to make her? After all, just the day before, Alex had mentioned he would soon propose something that could change her fate. The mystery gnawed at her.

Despite the conversation, neither Alex nor Erina and Hisako stopped working. Alex moved with ease, preparing dishes like he had been born in the kitchen. Erina and Hisako couldn’t help but notice his technique—swift, precise, almost unreal. Where had he learned to cook like that?

Unable to resist, Erina tasted a piece of the dish Alex had prepared… followed by Hisako. And when the flavor touched their palates, it felt as if a firework of sensations had exploded inside them. It was something entirely different—beyond culinary pleasure.

For Erina, it was especially intense—her “God Tongue” allowed her to perceive taste in absolute fullness.

“Where did you learn to cook like this?” she asked, stunned. “This is truly divine food!”

Alex, without looking up from slicing ingredients, calmly replied,”I didn’t learn anywhere. I just observed. This is the result of watching.”

“How can you learn to cook just by watching?” Hisako asked in disbelief. “Don’t you need to practice? To feel the flavor, make mistakes, experiment?”

Erina nodded in agreement. What Alex was saying sounded impossible. Even if someone learns from videos or cookbooks, it’s never enough to cook at a professional level right away. Practice, taste, and intuition are essential.

And yet, what Alex was doing couldn’t be ignored. His movements were flawless, as if automatic, and the taste of his dishes—beyond praise. The girls, without realizing it, began to feel a tinge of envy. The food Alex had made was tastier than anything they had ever tried.

Freya, watching from her seat with a cup of tea in hand, shook her head with a soft smile. Her husband… he truly was unfair. Not only incredibly strong and intelligent, but also gifted with a talent that defied the limits of possibility.

“Allow me to explain why my husband can do this, Nakiri Erina,” Freya said, placing her cup on the table.

“You know something, Lady Freya?” Erina asked in surprise.

“Yes. My husband possesses a remarkable gift,” Freya said, gesturing toward Alex. “He can replicate absolutely anything he’s ever seen. Just once is enough. He observes—and he knows.”

“What?” Hisako breathed. “You’re saying he can just see something once and… that’s it?”

“Exactly,” Freya confirmed with a gentle smile. “Before him, only one being had such a gift. His brother.”

“His brother…” Erina frowned. “Is he a demon too?”

“Oh no,” Freya shook her head. “His brother is human. And, by the way, his name is known even in your world.”

Erina and Hisako exchanged glances, clearly confused. A human? The demon’s brother? How was that even possible? They simply couldn’t comprehend how two such different beings could be connected by blood.

Alex, still calmly preparing the dish, merely shook his head. He was used to reactions like these by now. Surprise, confusion — he had seen it all before.

“And who is this brother,” Erina finally asked, unable to contain herself, “whose name is known even here?”

Alex looked up, his voice calm and even as he spoke:

“And God said: Be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, and every creature that moves on the ground… And He gave them the greatest of all gifts — free will and thought. And with this gift, they could think, dream, and love. It was the greatest gift of all, but also the greatest curse upon all of mankind. And the first to receive this gift… were Adam and Eve.”

Erina and Hisako’s mouths fell open in stunned silence. They froze in place, completely shocked. Everything they’d been holding slipped from their hands and clattered to the ground. They had never expected anything like this — Alex’s brother was none other than Adam himself, the very progenitor of humanity.

A single thought flickered through Erina’s mind: If Adam is the son of God, and he is Alex’s brother… then what does that make Alex? The answer hit her like a thunderbolt — obvious and earth-shattering.

Alex was also a son of the Creator.

The realization shook her harder than anything in her entire life. It was only through sheer force of will that she remained standing. Had she been any less composed, she would’ve fainted on the spot.

Hisako was taking it even worse. Her eyes dulled, her expression went blank. It was like she had fallen out of reality itself, as if her mind was desperately trying to deny what she had just heard. The idea that she might still be dreaming — that this was all just some strange illusion — was the only thing keeping her sane.

Watching their reactions, Alex couldn’t help but smirk slightly. This — this was the kind of response he had expected. Back in the day, all the girls around him reacted far too calmly, as if it were perfectly normal that he was the son of the Creator Himself.

Wanting to lighten the mood a bit, Alex was about to change the subject…

But suddenly, a piercing scream rang out from the dining hall:

“DAD!!!” Nyaruko’s voice — filled with pain and anguish — tore through the restaurant like a thunderclap.

In that instant, the frying pan in Alex’s hand turned to ash. His eyes darkened, all light gone from within them. Erina, Hisako, and Freya immediately turned toward the hall.Freya was the first to sense the shift in her husband’s aura — she saw his face change and understood at once: something very bad was about to happen.

With a grim expression, Alex began walking toward the kitchen exit, each step heavy and deliberate. Erina and Hisako instinctively followed, alarmed by the darkness now radiating from him. They wanted to understand what had just happened — and who or what had provoked such a reaction in Alex.

But before they could take another step, Freya blocked their path, calmly shaking her head. She had already sensed it — the foul presence in the hall. A soul so vile, it made her stomach churn.

Freya understood one thing clearly: Alex was interested in Erina. And as a wise wife, she wanted to help him preserve the image Erina had of him — not frighten her. Because soon, Alex would become someone else. Someone people like Erina and Hisako were better off not seeing.

“You shouldn’t go out there,” Freya said, firmly blocking their path. “What’s about to happen… isn’t something you should witness.”

“What’s going to happen?” Erina asked, noticing the serious look on Freya’s face.

“My husband is kind. Incredibly kind. But when it comes to family… he turns into something else entirely. I don’t know if he’s told you about his work, but it comes with danger — not for him, but for us, his family. His protection knows no limits. He values family above all else… and anyone who dares harm us faces only one outcome. And that outcome is usually tragic.”

She glanced toward the door. “That scream you heard — it was our daughter, Nyaruko. And he… he’s especially protective of children.”

“What’s he going to do to the one who made your daughter cry?” Hisako asked, nervously clenching her hands.

“It’s not just about my husband,” Freya replied. “This also concerns Nyaruko’s real mother. While all of us — Anya, Jinx, and Nyaruko — consider each other daughters and mothers, Nyaruko’s true mother… she’s as unique as my husband. And I don’t even want to imagine what she’ll do if she finds out.”

“Who is she? Who is Nyaruko’s mother?” Erina asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

Freya simply shook her head. Alex had warned her many times — never to speak Nyan-Nyan’s name aloud. Doing so could trigger consequences… consequences too dangerous for ordinary people.

All the girls in Alex’s family knew this. They knew who Nyan-Nyan was — and they also knew her sister, Yog. The white-haired girl who sometimes visited their home, spoke in riddles, and had an insatiable love for sweets. And they all knew: once you speak the names of those two… the world will never be the same.

Meanwhile, Alex stepped into the hall, his face as dark as night itself. His cold, lifeless eyes slowly scanned the room.

He saw it all — one by one, his girls sitting at the tables, simmering with silent rage and disgust toward a single man. And in the background, the sound of Nyaruko’s stifled sobs. Anya and Jinx were comforting their little sister, holding her close.

When Alex’s gaze landed on Nyaruko, warmth flickered in his eyes. In an instant, he was by her side, gently lifting her into his arms and softly stroking her back to soothe her.

But he missed one crucial detail — Nyaruko’s tears were fake.

The moment she was in his arms, a sly smile flickered across her face. A few of the women — Yuriko, Alcina, Brunhilde, Koko, Ada, Rory, and a few others — caught the expression right away.

They couldn’t understand why their daughter had staged such an obvious performance. Everything felt too theatrical — too forced for just a child’s hurt feelings. Especially after only a few words from Azami.

Nyaruko, noticing her mothers’ eyes on her, quickly put the mask of a hurt child back on. But it was too late. The women no longer believed her crocodile tears.

In truth, Nyaruko simply didn’t like this man. His soul — its rotten, festering aura — filled her with disgust. Maybe it was her father’s influence — Alex had always been sensitive to the foulness within people.

Alex, meanwhile, kept his gaze fixed on Azami — or more precisely, on Azami’s soul.

What he saw didn’t merely disgust him — it went deeper than that.

Azami’s soul was a thick, dark swamp, oozing the stench of envy, greed, vanity, and a deep-seated inferiority complex. Panicking, Azami bolted for the door, trying desperately to open it. But it was no use. Fear — raw, primal fear — clutched his heart with an icy grip. He didn’t understand what was happening. Why wouldn’t the doors open? Who were these people? And why did the silence around them feel so… deadly?

He kept yanking at the handle, desperate to escape — but then everything changed.

The door was suddenly covered in a thick, black shadow.

With a gasp of horror, he yanked his hand back and stumbled away. From within that darkness, hundreds of eyes appeared — crimson, hateful, and bloodthirsty.

Azami trembled. His knees buckled, and he was just a moment away from passing out.

“W-What is this?! Let me out! You’re breaking the law!” he screamed, spinning around — only to meet Alex’s gaze.

Those eyes. Cold, iridescent, stripped of all humanity — they pierced his soul like daggers. His body froze. A deafening hum filled his ears, drowning out all other sound. The pounding of his own heart echoed in his skull like a war drum.

“The law?” Alex repeated, his voice calm, his stare unblinking. “Which law? The one mortals invented to control each other? The one twisted and wielded by bastards like you?”

He stepped forward, gently placing Nyaruko on the ground. His voice remained steady — but the force behind it was overwhelming. The very walls seemed to tremble.

“Where was that law when you tormented your daughter for the sake of your own ambition? Where was it when you beat her for failing to meet your perverted idea of ‘perfection’? Where was it when you crushed people, ruined lives, destroyed anyone in your way — all in pursuit of your so-called ‘culinary ideal’?”

He stopped.

“Where was your voice then, Nakiri Azami?” Alex said — then paused and shook his head. “No. You’re not worthy of that name. You’re a disgrace. A filthy, wretched creature. You should be called by your true name — Nakamura Azami.”

His tone dropped lower, colder.

“I don’t know what Mana ever saw in you. But you don’t deserve her. You don’t deserve Erina. Not as a man. Not as a father.”

“W-Who are you…?” Azami stammered, backing away like a cornered animal.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alex replied. “Only one thing does: you made my daughter cry. And that… was your last mistake.”

Alex narrowed his eyes, staring through Azami.

“Your soul is revolting. You’re a festering swamp, boiling with the desire to drag everything around you into your muck. And worse — you let that filth seep into your own daughter. You were meant to protect her, raise her with love. But all you gave her was pain, coldness, and hate.”

He began walking forward again — slow, measured steps, each one sounding like a verdict.

“But what did you do, Azami? Instead of family love, instead of warmth, Erina was forced to endure agony. Her entire childhood was suffering.”

“You don’t understand anything!” Azami screamed, his voice breaking into a shrill shriek. “This world is broken! It needs to be reshaped! Food should belong to those worthy of its flavor! The rest — the rest are cattle! They deserve nothing but scraps! None of them are worthy!”

Alex stopped. His eyes were void of all expression. But the air around him thickened — darker, heavier — as though reality itself responded to his anger.

“And you dare… speak of worth?”

Hearing Azami’s words, Alex paused for a long moment, then looked at him — not with rage, not with fury, but with exhaustion and disdain.

At the tables behind him, the women shook their heads silently. No words were needed. Before them stood yet another fool — one blinded by ambition, drunk on the illusion of control, convinced of his divine purpose.

But in truth, he was just a coward — lost in the fantasy he had built around himself. In Alex’s eyes, only one thing remained now: pity. Pity for a pathetic soul too ignorant to understand a simple truth: Food is not an elite toy for the chosen few. It’s not just something to fill your belly. Food is warmth. Food is memory. Food is life.

Alex knew this better than anyone. He knew that food could give hope, heal the soul, and bring back forgotten memories. Food had the power to unite nations, save people from hunger, and remind them what home was — even if that home had long ceased to exist. And chefs? Chefs weren’t clowns in a circus. They were those who served humanity, offering comfort in every spoonful.

“Ah, Azami, Azami… you pathetic bastard,” Alex sighed, the words slipping from his lips. “Your ambitions, your ideas — they’re nothing more than the ramblings of a foolish child who thinks he understands the world. You’ve always been a jealous nobody, envious of Joichiro, and that hasn’t changed. You try to mold others in your image, never realizing that you were broken a long time ago.”

His voice rose, cracking into a roar.

“What made you think you have the right to force your desires onto others?! Who the hell are you to take away people’s freedom to be themselves?! Who gave you the authority to strip them of their right to choose?!”

Alex’s outburst hit the room like a thunderclap. The walls trembled, the air vibrated, and cracks spidered across the ceiling. The girls, unfazed, simply shielded their glasses with their hands to keep debris out of their drinks.

They could see it — Alex was consumed by fury. And they understood why: his father was the one who had given beings the gift of free will.Alex could never tolerate anyone who tried to steal that away. Uploaded by the NovelBin team.

Azami trembled. He was shaking with fear. He didn’t understand — why everything was quaking, where the cracks came from, or why an overwhelming sense of dread was closing in on him.

And then, Alex inhaled deeply… and exhaled. A wide, unnervingly kind smile spread across his face, revealing sharp fangs. A smile so thick with menace it made the air feel heavier. The girls exchanged glances and let out weary sighs. They knew — for Azami, it was over. But that wasn’t even the worst part.

Alex smiled because he heard Nyan-Nyan’s voice in his head. Her tone was irritated — like a mother woken up in the middle of the night over something stupid. Alex was just glad she hadn’t erased the entire universe over Nyaruko’s tears… or wiped out every version of Azami across all timelines. Because what truly awaited Azami… was far worse. A fate beyond anything a living creature could comprehend — or even imagine — in its most horrifying nightmares.

“You know, Nakiri Azami,” Alex said as he stepped closer, “after you made my daughter cry, your fate was sealed. You were supposed to be sent to my personal hell. A hell of eternal suffering, pain, and endless despair. But… you got lucky. And unlucky. At the same time.”

“I decided to give you a gift. One. Final. Gift before the end of your miserable life.”

Driven by some unexplainable impulse, Azami stammered:

“W-What kind…?”

Alex stopped just one step away from him. His voice turned soft. Almost gentle.

“A poem. The last poem you’ll ever hear in your pitiful life.”

The girls tensed. They were curious — curious about what Alex was about to recite, and why he called it a gift. A sinking feeling crept in: what would follow… wouldn’t be done by him. It would be done by Nyaruko’s mother. And that thought alone made them shudder. Even the calmest among them had no desire to know what awaited Azami.

But the poem… They wanted to hear it. Alex began to speak, and his voice turned melodic — like a silken whisper drifting across a desert:

“The daughter of Egypt, so high and so fair, That mortal — woman or man — would never dare To turn their gaze from the voice she bore, Though silent, it echoed like winter’s roar. Before her the fellahin knelt in crowds, Her robe dyed in hues of burning clouds. From every side they came for fate — For prophecy, for darkness, to open the gate. And even the beast, wild since time’s first breath, Left its forest, abandoning pack and death, To kneel before her — called Nyarlathotep, The Daughter of Egypt.”

With every word, Azami began to hear distant, muffled drumbeats in his mind… and a low, droning weep of flutes — eerie, maddening, and impossible to ignore. They grew closer… louder. His mind began to fracture.

To him, it was terror gnawing at his soul. To the girls, it was something else entirely — a hauntingly beautiful, almost tragic poem. Alex was singing of Nyan-Nyan’s beauty. And even those who had never seen her could sense something immense behind those verses. The ones who had seen Yog — who sometimes visited them at home, usually in search of sweets — could picture her clearly. They could imagine just how incomprehensibly beautiful Nyan-Nyan truly was.

And with each line, the room began to warp. Time reversed. The light flickered. The air began to hum.

Alex spoke the final verses:

“All knew: the final hour was near. And so it came: the oceans withered, disappeared. The Earth split open, light and sight were gone. And in the shadows — laughter. And a voice from beyond: ‘Child of Chaos, born from infinity, Shall wipe the stars with playful divinity.'”

His voice fell silent. The poem was finished. And ahead — only darkness.Eyes within it. And the approaching steps of the one coming for Nakamura Azami.

The moment Alex’s voice faded, a storm exploded in Azami’s mind. To the flutes and drums was added something worse: A scraping, soul-ripping screech of claws — as if they were raking across the very fabric of reality itself. Growls. Grinding. Some nearby, some impossibly far. They came in waves, crashing over his consciousness, paralyzing thought, tearing away the last threads of sanity.

This was fear. Primal, faceless, cold — like the bottom of the blackest abyss. A fear Azami had never known and could never have imagined. The pounding became unbearable — each beat ringing through his skull like a hammerblow. His head felt like it would explode. The world around him was gone. There were no walls, no people, no voices — Only the flutes, the drums, and the howling of something ancient and starving, scratching at the door of his consciousness.

He clutched his head, pressing his temples as if he could squeeze the pain out of his skull. He tried to scream — But his throat felt clenched in icy fingers. Not a sound escaped. Only silent agony.

The girls watched in silence. Now they understood why Alex always said: never speak Nyan-Nyan’s true name in front of others. Madness, according to Alex, wasn’t just a state of mind. It was a fracture in the soul itself, a crack through which darkness seeps—corroding everything it touches. And that’s exactly what was happening to Azami.

“Hey, Azami,” Alex said calmly, sitting down next to the man, who was now on his knees, curled up into a ball. “I know you can hear me. So listen closely.”

Alex’s voice broke through the roaring nightmare like a ray of light cutting through the veil of chaos. It was cold as ice, yet clear. Impossible not to hear.

“You hear it, don’t you? That endless hum. Flutes. Drums. And something else… a scraping sound. Like something clawing at reality itself, like talons digging into the flesh of space and time. They’re coming for you, Azami. And when they arrive—you’ll find yourself in a place no being would ever dare step into, not in any universe.”

Alex spoke softly, yet each of his words rang like the tolling of a great bell.

“A place with no death. No time. No light. Only eternal chaos and madness, lingering in every drop. And there, she will be waiting for you—the mother of my daughter. The one whose name you defiled with your actions. The one whose tears you caused.”

Azami trembled. His eyes rolled back. Foam began to appear at the corners of his mouth.

“Before her, you’ll experience something that cannot be described. Your own personal eternity of pain. Even hell will seem like a paradise for rest. And do you know what I’ll tell you, Azami?”

Alex leaned in closer, almost whispering:

“Run. Run like you’ve never run before. Hide. Live in fear, if you still can. Because if they reach you… the dead will envy you. And the living will shudder at the mere mention of your name.”

Azami lifted his gaze. His eyes were filled with madness, overflowing with terror—no reason or logic remained, only emptiness and trembling. Alex met his gaze—calmly, almost with pity. His voice held no anger, no contempt. Only calm.

He slowly raised his hand and pointed at the door.

It was shrouded in thick shadow, covered with bloodshot eyes full of rage and madness. But the moment Alex pointed in that direction—the eyes scattered, and the darkness retreated, revealing the doorway. Beyond it lay a street bathed in cold moonlight and the dim yellow glow of the lanterns.

Azami didn’t understand what was happening. He was like a puppet, guided by some invisible hand. His body rose—shaky and broken. And without saying a word, he fled—into the darkness, into the night. His silhouette, illuminated by the lanterns, faded into the distance, dissolving in the moonlight.

Alex watched him go.

“Run, Azami… run,” he murmured. “And remember: avoid the corners. Otherwise, they’ll get to you faster than you can realize…”

And at the same moment Alex spoke, from every corner of the room, a dark mist began to spill out. At first, it was barely visible—a thin wisp of smoke creeping along the floor. But then it began to thicken, taking shape: first—a head, then—a body.

Creatures emerged from the mist. There were several of them. They resembled dogs… but only vaguely. Their bodies looked like they were coated in skin—not wearing it, but as if someone had stretched it over them the wrong way. Their jaws were misshapen, lined with crooked, overly long teeth, and their eyes—dark, yet burning—were filled with hatred and something utterly alien.

They growled low and gutturally. The claws of these beasts, as if existing on a different plane, scraped against the very air, against the edges of space itself, leaving behind sonic cracks in reality. Their gazes were fixed on the fleeing Azami.

But just as suddenly as they appeared—they vanished. Dissolved into the corners, as if they were only shadows of something far greater.

Their purpose was clear: to hunt. To drag back. To reclaim the one who dared insult the one protected by chaos.

The girls stood frozen. They had never seen creatures like that before. These weren’t dogs. Not wolves. Not monsters from any familiar nightmares. These were… something else.

“Alex, what are those things? I’ve never seen anything like them…” Saya broke the silence, looking at him with clear concern.

“I’m curious too,” Brunhilda added. “I’ve spent centuries in Valhalla, and I’ve seen plenty of dangerous creatures. But never anything like that.”

Alex sighed and shook his head.

“Those were the Tindalos Hounds. Legends about them are scattered between the lines of the most forgotten books. Their descriptions contradict each other, and none of them are reliable. What is known for certain is this: if a person somehow ‘marks’ themselves for them—they begin the hunt. Through time. Through space. Without rest or exhaustion. Until they catch you. And it seems Nyan-Nyan… set them loose on Azami.”

“Wait a minute,” Tiona interrupted. “Why did you shout for him to avoid corners? What do corners have to do with it?”

Alex looked at her seriously.

“Because, as they say, people live along ‘temporal curves.’ But those creatures dwell in ‘the corners of time.’ Imagine a river’s flow—reality bends and twists as it flows. We exist on those bends. But somewhere out there are sharp turns, dead ends, unnatural angles. That’s where they hide. If you end up in one of those corners… you’re closer to them. And they’ll sense it. And if they’ve already noticed you—you have no chance. No one’s ever escaped.”

“Wonderful,” Koko muttered, rolling her eyes. “I dreamed of fantasy worlds, candy trees, adventures, castles… and I got some damn incomprehensible corner-dwelling beasts that’ll eat you just for turning around too sharply!”

The girls nodded involuntarily. This was definitely not what they expected.

Alex chuckled slightly, trying to ease the tension.

“Hey, it’s not all bad. There’s good food coming. And the next world—it’s actually beautiful. Maybe there’ll be a sea, a warm climate, strange birds. Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”

“Yeah? Then where’s that food you keep promising?” Saeko cut in with mock reproach. “Last night you talked up dinner like it was divine, but I don’t see a single thing on our table, Alex.”

Alex raised his hands in surrender and laughed.

“Alright, alright, I’m going. Just relax. And stop thinking about those… things. It’s all behind us now.”

The girls exchanged glances and, without a word, rolled their eyes. Easy for him to say—”forget it.” As if creatures appearing out of corners and mist were just a minor inconvenience.

Meanwhile, Alex walked over to Nyaruko. He gently ran his hand through her hair, and the girl leaned into his palm, beaming with a warm, bright smile—as if she hadn’t been crying just a minute ago. He gave the same gentle touch to Anya and Jinx, then finally made his way to the kitchen.

Freya met his gaze with a silent question in her eyes: Is everything okay?Alex gave a slight nod in response: It’s handled. Only one idiot got hurt.

Erika and Hisako, who had been observing the silent exchange, glanced at each other in confusion, trying to guess what exactly had happened in the hall.

But for now, Alex wasn’t planning to reveal that the source of the chaos had been Erina’s father—a man who barged in uninvited… and ended up with a one-way ticket to one of the most horrific places in all of infinite reality.

To be continued…

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep