Cultivator in a World of Angels, Demons, and Super Heroes

/We have landed in Yamagata Branch's private airfield. To the first time visitors, I welcome you all to Japan./

The pilot's voice coming from the PA speakers is ignored by the few passengers in the plane. After all, they are more concerned with something else.

"With all due respect, sir. The High Scholar asked us to keep our eyes on you at all times." A hulking Caucasian middle-aged man wearing a black suit and tie, says sternly as he blocks the aisle of the plane.

"What's the big deal? Japan is a very peaceful country. I speak the language too." The man whose way was blocked, an olive-skinned, masculinely good looking, ethnically ambiguous man who looks to be in his 30s, stops in his steps as he adjusts his already impeccably adorned tie and suit jacket.

"I don't know what's your rank in the brotherhood, sir…" A Caucasian woman steps behind the man.

"…But from the High Scholar's orders, your safety is the utmost priority. And you traveling Japan alone, compromises that."

"Ugh, angels as bodyguards… The worst combination ever..." The olive-skinned man groans as he brushes his shoulder long black hair up.

"You really like being told what to do, huh?" He shakes his head as he asks.

"…" The two angels do not bother responding.

"Just let me go alone~ please?" The man starts whining like a child, attempting to look adorable.

"…" The angels however are unaffected.

"How about you two? A little help here? As fellow humans?" The man then addresses two other men sitting together at the back of the private plane; one of African descent sporting fade afro haircut, and the other of European descent whose blonde hair styled to a bowl cut, both wearing casual suits.

"Sorry." The afroed man shakes his head.

"According to the High Scholar, we are to follow your orders except for what you're asking." He relays.

"And even if we want to, they're the High Scholar's angels, not ours." The blonde adds.

"Now I regret even asking for his help." The olive-skinned man chuckles in amusement.

"…" The angels suddenly feel something and they both take a step back from their protectee.

"What are you doing?" The female angel asks as she draws her long angel blade.

"Don't. We are not to hurt him." The male angel frowns seeing his partner's actions.

"Who's hurting who?" The olive-skinned man smirks and, "**** **** ***", chants something.

"*OOF*"

"*ACK*"

The angels suddenly feel a choking feeling and they are forced to their knees. The next moment, to their horror, bright white yellow smoke starts to leak out of their eyes, ears, and nose, and they see it getting sucked into the inner pocket of the olive-skinned man's suit.

"My… sanctic grace… no…" The male angel wants to fight back, but he is powerless.

A few moments later, the two angels drop to the floor, dead.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" The afroed man stands up in shock after what he just witnessed.

He is about to charge the olive-skinned man when, "Brother, don't!" his blonde friend from him from doing so.

"Those were Hashmallims, A-Class Angels and they died just like that. He's dangerous." The blonde warns.

"Oh, don't be like that, fellow humans." The olive-skinned man heard what the blonde said.

"Where did you hear magic that can harm us humans?" He asks.

The afroed man ignores the question.

"The High Scholar said that you do not have the strength to defend yourself. Wasn't it stupid to kill your bodyguards like that?" He asks instead.

"Why would I need to defend myself if I can stay out of trouble?" The olive-skinned man shrugs.

"But trouble may find you." The blonde man reasons.

"I am guessing that the High Scholar himself sent you to investigate the wood chip. One of our brothers already lost their life doing so. The High Scholar said that you are very important to the Brotherhood, so we can't risk losing you too."

"Please. I've been doing just fine even without your Brotherhood's assistance." The olive-skinned man scoffs before squatting down and searching the dead angels' bodies.

Soon, "Nice.", he manages to loot two high-caliber handguns from each of the angels.

"Now. Go back to your headquarters and tell your High Scholar that if he keeps sticking his eyes on me, I'll cut my ties with the Brotherhood." He says one more time before exiting the plane.

*SLAM*

"We've prepared the best of what we have. Please choose any one you like." The olive-skinned man is led to a garage the size of a parking lot, by a middle-aged Japanese man, just beside the landing strip.

"*Phew*…" The olive-skinned man whistles.

"Even though your branch here is small, you still have a lot of fancy cars, manager-san." He shakes his head.

"I'll take that pick-up truck over there." He then points at a silver-colored pick-up truck at the back of the garage.

"T-that. Are you sure?" The Japanese facility manager is stunned. He intentionally put the less fancy cars at the back of the garage, which include the pick-up truck, and presented the best cars in front.

"Yes. I told you I would drive passing the countryside and take a look at rural towns. And you want me to be in a sports car or an intimidating black SUV? Are you insane?" The olive-skinned man playfully reprimands the facility manager.

"Alright. I'm sorry." The facility manager can only accept.

"I'll prepare your papers and fill up the gas.", and leads the way out again.

"How old are you, manager?" The olive-skinned man asks as they walk back to the main building of the facility.

"64 years old, sir." The facility manager replies.

"Ah. I thought you were 50 at the most!" The olive skinned man acts surprised.

The facility manager simply rolls his eyes.

"I'm a superioris, sir."

"Hah. You have no sense of humor." The olive-skinned man chuckles.

"Anyways. How much have changed in the past… say… 30 years in Japan? In general?" He asks.

"Nothing much really." The facility manager starts.

"Aside from the more advanced technology, the people, the society, still the same. Some B-Class clans fell, replaced by new ones. The A-Class clans are still unchanged..." He starts recounting and answering the olive-skinned man's questions.

Two hours later, the olive-skinned man finds himself driving along the northern roads of Fukushima Prefecture.

"hmmm..hmmm.. laladida…", the new scenery adding to the view of the beautiful Lake Inawashiro to his left puts him in a greater mood.

He then slows down, spotting a familiar place.

"30 years, and nothing's changed." He chuckles, seeing a tourist stop ahead; one where he stopped by 30 years ago.

Unlike 30 years ago however, the one-story small restaurant has turned into two story building.

Despite the difference, the restaurant is still in business.

"Except for you…" He then sees a familiar woman through the restaurant window who is serving the customers, which makes him stop the car.

"You've aged." He sighs, seeing the once young woman he spent a couple of warm nights with, is now at the age when one has teenage grandchildren of their own.

Seeing the wrinkles on the woman's face even at the distance, he chuckles bitterly.

"And I still look young. You've lived a fuller life than I did since the last time we met." He utters.

After observing the woman for a minute more, he resumes his drive, moving on with his life and the memories of the tourist stop.

*zzz*

Suddenly, he feels something deep inside of him quiver and he almost loses control of the steering wheel in shock.

"Her… Near…" He utters in excitement and confusion.

He then looks at the wood chip that is floating like a kite that he tied to the dashboard with a string, and then to the direction the quivering feeling is telling him to go, debating within himself which one to go to first.

It does not take him long to decide and he pulls out his phone and looks at the GPS map for possible places that the quivering feeling wants him to be within a hundred-kilometer radius from himself. After all, such feeling only comes to him when she is that near to him.

An hour later, he finds himself entering the town center of the small town of Tsugawa.

"… Closer… She's waiting…" he utters in excitement, feeling the quivering in him becoming stronger.

It does not take him long to see a shabby inn ahead of the road. And in the parking area, an expensive-looking black SUV is parked, standing out among the cheap and dusty sedans and trucks beside it.

His interest is not on the car however, but on the beautiful brown-skinned woman leaning against the back of it, who is now looking at his direction. Her wearing the same expression on her face as his, tells him that she too is feeling what he is feeling and had decided to wait for him.

*Slam*

*slam*

The olive-skinned man does not bother parking his pick-up truck properly in such an idle rural road and instead parks it parallel to the road in front of the woman, and gets out of it in a hurry.

"Havvah…" He utters in bated breath as he stops just ten steps away from the woman.

The woman's black hair swaying in the cold wind, her unblemished face shined upon by the sun, and her smile, is all like a dream.

He does not want to move too fast or too loudly in fear of shattering that dream.

"Ahdem…" The woman utters in return, also looking at the man in careful uncertainty.

But seeing Ahdem's chest rising up and down, and fog forming out of his breath, she is sure that what she is seeing is real.

"Havvah… it's really you?" Ahdem cannot believe it.

"It's me…" Havvah says as she invites Ahdem for an embrace.

Ahdem quickly approaches and as soon as Havvah's is in his reach, he embraces her entire being.

Havvah can feel the happiness and relief emanating from the man and she cannot help but embrace him back tightly.

"You're that happy to see me?" She asks.

"Of course… For a century, I thought you were dead." Ahdem says.. his voice quivering.