As the tension reached a breaking point, Moses quickly stepped between them.
Whether it was the fall from heaven or the liberation of suppressed emotions, Lucifer had become wildly unpredictable. Even something as bold as suggesting they "sleep together" now rolled off his tongue without hesitation.
Moses had long known Lucifer as the holy and aloof Archangel, revered and unreachable. Seeing him now—casual, untamed—was shattering his perception of reality.
And if Moses was this shocked, what must God be feeling?
He tugged gently at God's wide sleeve and said in a careful, respectful tone, "Maybe you should rest for a while… or walk around? I'll handle the rest."
Despite being tall and strong, Moses's small, almost pleading gesture felt more endearing than weak.
Lucifer, watching the quiet exchange—the glances, the gentle words—felt a fire ignite inside him.
Especially that mortal called "Yahweh." He simply nodded obediently and walked straight toward the estate's main house. Like he belonged there. Like he owned the place.
That was the manor's heart. Reserved for the master.
But this Yahweh strolled inside without a second glance, as if it were routine.
Lucifer's eyes narrowed, shadows swirling at his fingertips. Within moments, the black mist condensed into a slender whip.
He lashed it out.
The whip cracked the air, moving so fast it left only a blur behind.
Moses's heart stopped. He remembered the day of Lucifer's fall, when he had cast aside his angelic blade and forged a whip from darkness itself. With one strike, half of Hell had collapsed.
If such a force could destroy a realm forged by divine light, what would it do to the human world?
Worse—God had sealed away half His divine power. If He were to take that strike, even in His true form, the outcome could be catastrophic.
"Lucifer! Stop!"
Moses lunged forward, grabbing the whip.
He was only human, sanctified though he may be. In the moment he touched the whip, the black fire seared through his palm, charring his skin in an instant.
The scent of scorched flesh filled the air.
Lucifer froze.
He had never imagined his power could harm the Creator. But the black whip had burned Moses.
Lucifer's hand trembled. The weapon dissolved into smoke.
"Y-you…" His lips parted, but he couldn't say anything more.
How could this be? Where was God's power? Why had he caused this?
All the words of concern and apology twisted in his chest. All he could do was stand there, like a child who had broken something precious.
A voice cut through the silence.
"Lucifer. If Moses hadn't stepped in, would you have struck me with that whip?"
God had returned. His voice was calm, but cold.
He knelt beside Moses and placed a hand over the injured palm.
The silver-haired deity, usually distant and composed, now looked up at Lucifer with unreadable eyes. Though kneeling, His presence towered over everything—the estate, the sky, even Lucifer.
"I didn't mean to…" Lucifer stammered.
But God's gaze made the words die in his throat.
The truth was clear: that whip could have killed a mortal.
Killed the man his God—his Creator—risked everything to protect.
Guilt, shame, and fury swirled inside him.
He was the Archangel of virtue… yet also the fallen angel of sin.
Light and shadow both lived in him, pulling him in opposite directions.
And yet, the mortal—fragile, trembling—stood firm. Chin raised, not backing down.
"I'll take you back," God said softly, helping Moses up.
As soon as God touched him, the dark force in Moses's wound began to retreat.
Moses exhaled in relief, but quickly added, "I'm okay. Lucifer didn't mean it. Please don't be angry with him."
God said nothing.
Even after crossing the second ward of the main house, He didn't look back.
Inside the house, God seated Moses on a bamboo chair and silently began cleansing the wound.
Moonlight poured from a glowing orb on the table. The only sound in the room was Moses's quiet gasps as pain ebbed and flowed.
Finally, the last of the dark power was driven out. God gently brushed His fingers through the air over Moses's hand. New flesh formed over bone.
Within moments, the wound had vanished.
Moses knelt in gratitude. "My Lord… thank you."
God didn't respond. He stayed kneeling, staring at Moses's healed hand.
"I'm sorry," He finally whispered. "Lucifer… he was always prideful. I let him grow too wild. After the fall… he's only grown worse. I'll keep him under control."
He stood, still looking grim.
Moses hesitated. "Shouldn't you tell him the truth? All this… it's happening because he misunderstands your relationship with me. If he knew who you really are—"
God walked to the desk and waved His hand. A thick book floated down.
Brown and gold, embossed with a six-pointed star.
Sefer Yetzirah.
The Book of Creation.
It was said to be born on the seventh day, after the world was formed. But no one had seen it, save for Moses and Lucifer.
Even Moses had only glimpsed it from afar.
"Y-you brought this out?" he asked, stunned.
"Stay here as Yahweh," God said. "The book bears My presence. Lucifer won't suspect."
"But… but he's angry. Today, if I hadn't stopped him—"
"Moses," God interrupted.
"Lucifer is kind," He said.
Moses fell silent.
He whispered, "Then… why all this?"
Why hide? Why put everyone through this?
God lowered His eyes. "I… can't stay beside him as God. Not yet."
He left.
Outside, Lucifer stood alone under the moonlight. Black robes fluttering, posture stiff. When he saw God, he hesitated before slowly approaching.
"Is he… alright?" he asked, awkward.
God's face was colder than before. "He's fine."
Relief lit up Lucifer's face.
He had once been the brightest star in Heaven, beloved and powerful. Even in darkness, his beauty had only grown.
God glanced away, unwilling to look at him too long.
"But," He said, "Moses doesn't want to see you right now."
Lucifer's smile faded.
God noticed the small droop of his eyes, the downturn of his mouth.
Pitiful.
Like a puppy who had been scolded.
"He had a message for you," God said.
Lucifer straightened. "What message?"
"Lucifer, the strength you were given is not for harming the weak. It's for preserving balance."
God's amber eyes locked onto Lucifer's.
"Don't make Him regret the favor He showed you."
Lucifer flinched. His prideful stance didn't falter, but his light dimmed.
Moved by impulse, God took a step forward, hand lifting—
Lucifer tensed. God stopped.
"What are you doing?" Lucifer asked.
God let out a tiny, amused sigh.
"You act like a child jealous of your mother's new lover."
Then, softly, just to twist the knife a little:
"And for the record—I'm not your mother."
Lucifer: …??