Shortly after my conversation with Uriel, she dragged me out of the original chamber and into a much larger meeting room before hurrying off to fetch the other 'Archangels.' The chamber was perfectly circular, with a single entrance. Its silver walls were lavishly adorned—ornate paintings and delicate trinkets covered every inch, obscuring the original silver beneath. Where paintings or artifacts were absent, intricate wall carvings took their place, enveloping the room in a feeling of timeless grandeur. Stained glass windows of every colour cast a kaleidoscopic light across the vast expanse of clouds and buildings stretching beyond and below the chamber. If I had to sum it all up in one word, I would say we truly were in heaven.
In the centre of the room stood a circular table made of rich mahogany. I brushed my hand gently along its smooth surface, then tapped it firmly once. The sharp knock echoed, bouncing off the walls and returning to my ears in a distant, calming reverberation. From touch alone, I could tell that the table had been meticulously maintained.
I felt like a boy trespassing somewhere forbidden, like a museum filled with ancient treasures—far too luxurious for someone like me. Every item radiated an immense value, and the weight of it all made me uneasy. What if I accidently broke something? I imagined Uriel's wrath and, to avoid any risks, decided to find a seat at the table and wait. That was until I noticed the chairs — exquisitely crafted, with precision, care, and decades of blood, sweat, and tears. Such quality that I found it hard to imagine even the richest on earth owning their equal.
In the end, I remained standing, unwilling to risk a single finger on any object. Each piece seemed precious beyond measure, a fragment of history steeped in stories and sentiment I couldn't begin to imagine. Impossible to replicate.
Uriel soon returned, her familiar smile cutting through the fog of my anxieties like a lighthouse beam. Flanking her were two men I didn't recognise, from what she'd told me, I could safely assume they were two of the Archangels.
The one on Uriel's left was taller than her by a good few inches, perhaps five foot ten if I had to guess. His hair ash-brown hair was bright, and his eyes a soft emerald hue. He wore a black suit that hugged his lean figure perfectly, his red tie loosely knotted. He seemed lively, relaxed, even proactive.
The other stood taller still, with long, wheat-blonde hair and piercing sky-blue eyes. His expression was unreadable, a blank mask that spoke of seriousness. Yet when his gaze met landed on me, his eyes widened, and his regal posture faltered. He wore a pristine white suit, quite similar to my own, which only intensified the gravity of his presence.
"Lord Caelus!" Uriel's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "It seems only Michael and Gabriel are free for today's meeting." She gestured, first at the former, Michael and then the latter Gabriel.
"The others were busy?" I asked, curiosity edging my tone.
At once, Gabriel dropped down to a knee.
"We sincerely apologise, my Lord," He said, lifting his head to meet my eyes before casting a glance at the others, silently commanding them to bow.
"Oh—uh, It's no problem really, you may stand freely," I reassured him, gesturing for him to rise.
"I'm grateful for your forgiveness, my Lord," he said, bowing deeply once more. I'd misjudged him—he was the overly loyal type, perhaps more than I'd expected. But I couldn't complain; they were usually always the most reliable.
"So, why couldn't the others make it?" I asked again.
"That—"
Michael interrupted Gabriel.
"Well, simply, Azrael is busy as usual... Angel of Death and all that," Michael replied casually from my side, his tone easy-going and relaxed.
"Raphael's probably still down on Earth, investigating the human's Regalia, as usual. And Lucifer... well, he's in Hell, where he belongs." Michael's words painted a clearer picture in my mind of Azrael, Raphael, and Lucifer — biblical angels come to life.
"I see. Thank you, Michael." My words earned me—or perhaps Michael—icy, jealous dagger-like glares from Gabriel and Uriel, but Michael simply shrugged them off, ignoring even my thanks.
"Ahem!" Uriel cleared her throat, diverging the room's focus onto her. "I believe we should begin discussing today's agenda."
Gabriel and Michael turned their eyes to me simultaneously. I stared awkwardly for a moment before realising they were waiting for my confirmation.
"Oh! Yes, we should begin," I blurted, cheeks flushing at my slip-up.
Uriel began briefing them on my 'amnesia,' prompting the two men to glare at me in disbelief. From there, the conversation spiralled into theories and wild possibilities on how to solve my condition. Hours seemed to stretch on without any resolution — until Michael brought up 'Regalia.'
I had no idea what they were, of course, but the term wasn't entirely unfamiliar. I seem to recall Michael mentioning it when he was talking about Raphael—he'd called them the 'Humans' Regalia.'
"Oh pardon my interruption, but what exactly is a Regalia?" I asked.
The three exchanged a glance, brows raising in unison as if surprised I didn't know.
Seriously?! How could angel's be so forgetful...
"Apologies, my Lord! Allow me to explain," Gabriel shouted dramatically, dropping to one knee yet again.
"Forgive us," Michael said with a smirk. "It's just strange hearing you ask so many questions, Lord. We're so used to your omniscience."
After telling Gabriel to rise, he explained something known as The Fracture—a catastrophic event in which the immeasurable power contained within Caelus, or perhaps merely this body I now inhabited, was violently expelled all at once, shattering the natural order. Scattered fragments of that divine force coalesced into gifts—supernatural markings called Regalia—which granted almost every human the ability to manipulate elemental forces and supernatural forces: fire, earth, wind, water, and beyond.
What shocked me most? The claim that some humans wielded Regalia powerful enough to manipulate concepts as profound as time and space. It was a mind-bending idea—especially for someone who still saw himself as entirely human.
In short, Regalia were intricate formations that appeared on humans' bodies, permanently enhancing their physical capabilities and unlocking elemental manipulation. Some lucky few could wield even more refined powers — from 'perfected swordsmanship' to 'alternate space creation' the ability to create your own miniature dimensions.
The realisation that these supernatural powers truly existed hammered home the truth: I was no longer in my old world. I was dead, reincarnated as something far beyond a mere mortal.
Angels in attendance, a city in the clouds, world-shattering power...
Everything pointed to me being some kind of god. But how could that be true? How could a simple, sickly teenager die and be reborn as a god?
And could I ever live a normal life again? Could I be normal?