An Angel Lives in the Academy

king about heroes to the light that came down from the sky.
It would be a very interesting phenomenon if it weren’t for the fantasy he saw while dying.

“If only the children who would become heroes were not sacrificed by humanity’s greed, if they were not subjected to their slander, if only their grief could be recognized… There would be heroes for mankind.”

It was a fact that the man also affirmed to some extent.

But what do you want me to do? It’s meaningless.

“If there was an angel, if there was a guardian angel who would lead the young heroes on the right path and protect them from the ordeal that came to them… Humanity wouldn’t have been destroyed like this.”

It was a definite tone.
The man thought that voice was so beautiful even though it was absurd.
Like a heavenly voice.

“You must be the angel.”

“…Me? Why?”

“Because you are the last survivor of mankind.”

“So, what does that have to do with angels….”

He’d crossed the line on the subject of fantasy created by his brain.

The man tried to stand up, but his arm was weak.
A little nodding was all he could do.

So the man saw the identity of the light.

It was an angel.

A deeply wounded angel stood before him.
White wings made of light behind his back, and his body was full of unusual wounds.
Nevertheless, the boy remained angelic.

“To those children… You’ll be a much better angel than I am.”

The angel prayed with his hands folded together.

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