(Anime/Manga Fanfiction) [Various] Throne of God (26) + Extra Chapter
"I am not the Messiah, Lucifer."
The chilling aura was even more penetrating than the temperature here. The man gazed indifferently at the Archangel bearing punishment, his eyes showing no pity whatsoever, speaking as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Lucifer didn't even dare to stiffen this time. His weary eyes, opened wide, stung from the cold. Gabriel in front of him had already fallen asleep with his arms crossed, while he couldn't fall asleep for a while. He hadn't expected to see the Messiah come to the prison by chance, and even more coincidentally, to discover that the Messiah said he wasn't the Messiah.
"My God..."
"The quill the Messiah used last time was yours, Lucifer."
The lips that spoke approached, the gentle breath both strange and familiar. Lucifer, already surprised, froze for a moment, simply because Jehovah had softly spoken his purpose in his ear.
"Could I have one?"
Chapter Twenty-Six
After a while, God, having received the item, naturally left. Unlike Jehovah, who happily took his pen back to write in his diary, the arrival of God in possession of the Messiah was an absolute shock to Lucifer. Only his and Gabriel's breathing remained in the silent prison. Lucifer, restless, lost all desire to rest; even closing his eyes couldn't stop him from thinking about the feeling he had just experienced.
His fingers slid down his spine, a tingling, throbbing sensation running down his spine. The feathers of his six wings brushed against his fingers, and God quietly and soothingly combed Lucifer's wings, slowly calming his tense nerves. Sometimes Lucifer felt Joyce's infatuation with him was utterly incomprehensible, because Joyce's understanding of him always remained only on the surface of rumors. But now, he suddenly understood his own feelings.
God was so gentle yet majestic to every angel, seemingly encompassing their joys and sorrows, witnessing their future paths. Yet, no angel had ever truly come close to God. He didn't know God's face, didn't understand God's thoughts, and couldn't comprehend why God preferred to remain in Heaven rather than step outside the Crystal Heaven.
Lucifer looked at the holy light on his wings. How wonderful it would be if he could see through the holy light emanating from God. Every angel thought him ridiculously powerful, but only he knew that before God, he was insignificant.
In truth, what did it matter if he were to pluck a feather to use as God's writing brush, or even lose his wings? Even the loss of his glorious six wings was less important than God's opinion. All of this was bestowed by God, and for a seraphim born from God's hand, being able to repay even the smallest gift was an immense blessing.
"Lucifer, do you find it difficult to stay in prison? Then remember, you cannot repeat the same mistake. You are a seraphim, and you should be a role model for all angels. I do not wish to see you enter this place a second time."
The indifferent voice of God echoed in his mind, and Lucifer's steady breathing became slightly suppressed. He, too, felt ashamed. Imprisoned yet unable to reflect on his mistakes, Lucifer himself felt he had been too arrogant, even needing divine intervention to awaken him.
As if sensing something, he turned his head towards the doorway. He hadn't expected anyone to appear at this hour; it was both anticipated and unexpected. Lucifer saw Samael enter. He hadn't expected this almost rigid Seraph to risk coming to visit them.
Although… the main person he was visiting should have been Gabriel. His azure eyes glanced at the woman curled up asleep in the corner, then at Samael bowing before him. Lucifer suddenly felt it might be better to stay somewhere else. The silver-blue-haired man knelt on one knee, facing his superior (besides the gods), and spoke in a flat, emotionless voice.
"Your Highness, Samael has something to report."
"What has brought you to the prison to see me? Although the Father hasn't explicitly forbidden it, you've overstepped your bounds."
Remembering God's recent passing, Lucifer felt a chill for Samael's luck. He hoped another comrade wouldn't walk in soon. At least Samael was implicated in Joyce's affair and imprisoned because of a lack of foresight; otherwise, the Seraphim would utterly disgrace Heaven.
"Archangel Joyce, fallen."
A cold light flowed in his silver-blue eyes as Samael raised his head to look directly at the Archangel, his voice barely audible as he sighed.
"How could this be!"
Upon hearing this, Gabriel's closed eyes snapped open, her beautiful eyes staring at Samael in disbelief.
Lucifer's expression also darkened. This was the first time a fallen angel had occurred in Heaven, and he himself had been the catalyst for it. As God had said, Lucifer's punishment was indeed unjust, but as Archangel, he had failed in his duty.
Jehovah, seated on his throne, paused, staring blankly at the words on the paper. He had just begun writing about the celestial system of punishments. Golden ink dripped from the pen, its fading color mirroring the god's current mood.
Gently turning to the third page, the Book of the Holy Spirit, with its golden lettering, appeared before him. Jehovah didn't need to examine it closely to find Joyce's name precisely. The quill pen held elegantly between his fingers as he reviewed Joyce's past with a heavy heart. After a thorough scan with his divine sense, he indifferently reached out and touched the name, the ancient divine script severed diagonally by the golden ink.
The text on the page blurred like ripples on water. The next second, Joyce's name was nowhere to be found in the entire Book of the Holy Spirit.
Then, at the beginning of the reverse side of the third page, he wrote "List of Fallen Angels," and Joyce was the first name written by God.
Name: Joyce
Rank: Lower Third Rank, Eighth Grade Archangel
Sins: Lust, Wrath, Envy (of the Seven Deadly Sins)
Setting down his pen, Jehovah had lost interest in writing the Book of Creation. Though the earlier disgust was gone from his eyes, a sense of melancholy remained. He knew such things couldn't be forbidden, so even he, as a god, could only slowly accept it.
Is God omnipotent…?
Indeed, he could. He could restore any fallen angel to light, but would it make sense…?
No…
Therefore, he wouldn't do anything meaningless, nothing more.
"Samael, execute Joyce."
His golden eyes were cold and merciless. Jehovah closed the Book of Creation, his lips parting slightly as he spoke gently, each word deliberate.
In the Second Mercury Heaven, Raphael sat blankly amidst the ruins, his eyes still fixed on the direction his friend had gone. Those dark wings almost stung him, bringing tears to his eyes. The archangel had already taken the blame for Joyce, and God hadn't mentioned punishing the archangel since. Why had things escalated to this point? There was clearly still a chance for a turnaround, wasn't there?
Having witnessed Joyce's fall, an archangel carefully stepped over several pillars and rubble, finding Raphael still sitting there in a daze. The angel, who had always been on good terms with Joyce, quickly came over and helped the now distraught Raphael up, only to find several bleeding wounds on his arms.
Heartbroken by Joyce's ingratitude, the archangel couldn't help but angrily rebuke him.
"When he attacked, why didn't you dodge! Joyce was bewitched by the devil; have you lost your mind too?"
As if pulled back to reality, seeing his friend's dismay at his inaction, tears streamed down Raphael's face. He kept wiping his eyes with his fingers to no avail, and he choked out his question.
"I don't understand what he was talking about before, why he suddenly started saying all this nonsense and even attacked me."
"What did he say?"
A deep voice followed his words. Raphael looked up and saw it was Prince Samael. Remembering Joyce's words, Raphael glanced nervously at his friend beside him, feeling his words were incredibly arrogant, but he still spoke under the Archangel's scrutiny.
"He said… I will become a Seraphim, ruling the second Mercury Heaven."
After saying this, Raphael lowered his head, not daring to utter another word, his ears turning red with shame.
Not only the archangel beside him, but even Samael's expression became strange. Leaving aside the fact that the Mercury Heaven was controlled by Gabriel, and since the first batch of angels hadn't graduated yet, no one knew how God had arranged their hierarchical positions. But one thing was clear to everyone: in the hundreds of years since creation, there had never been a case of wings being added to Heaven. Was Joyce truly insane to say something so absurd?
"Has he received any items related to the Flower of Time?"
"I haven't seen the Flower of Time. Princess Gabriel only had a servant angel deliver a packet of pollen for calming the mind and promoting sleep."
Samael already knew the answer. Gabriel was usually just a simple person who liked to tinker with plants. She wouldn't have her subordinates make any pollen, let alone use such a thing herself. Recently, only Metatron had gifted them items made from the Flower of Time, and the Flower of Time happened to possess rare precognitive abilities.
"Get ready first, and explain the situation to the Archangel when she comes out."
"Princess Samael, where are you going…?"
Suddenly remembering that Samael had another identity besides being the Archangel, and seeing the silver-blue-haired Seraph holding the Spear of Judgment, Raphael asked, his face pale.
"That's not your question."
Without turning around, Samael coldly uttered these words and walked towards the direction of leaving Heaven.
Along the way, he could still see the buildings being destroyed in the madness of fallen angels. He gripped the spear of judgment given to him by God, his eyes solemn and serious. This time, he was ordered to purge the fallen angels… it seemed he would have to go to Hell.
After learning of Joyce's fall, his previous pity and guilt were cast aside. Gabriel had nothing to say to this self-destructive angel; his mind was preoccupied with how to apologize to God.
So the archangel, while in prison, wrote a letter of repentance to God. His attitude was sincere, his intentions upright, but almost eighty percent of it was a hodgepodge of flowery language, descriptions that made Jehovah's eyes ache. Although every sentence seemed to be factual, after Gabriel's polishing… was it really that high-sounding? If he truly believed the letter was well-written, then he must be hopelessly narcissistic.