This was a part of an ancient memory.
- Scribe, for how long am I supposed to repeat this war? A war that doesn't have any victors….
The times when he threw that question out, or how many times he asked it – he couldn't recall them.
- Michael, there's no need to ponder too deeply about this.
The Metatron of his memories would always return the exact same smile. For several hundreds of years, or maybe even for thousands of years.
Metatron continued to carry that grin from the far side of time that Michael couldn't even remember anymore.
- Please, focus on hating the 'Evil' in front of your eyes, instead. That is your 'scenario'.
'….My scenario.
Just how long have I been hunting down the demons?'
Michael, for a long time now, could no longer remember his birth.
[The power of 'Fruit of Good and Evil' is going berserk.]
His memories were always incorrect, incomplete. All he could remember were the final words of the Demon Kings dying at his hands.