Chapter 18 of "[Various] Throne of God" by Yu Wei Latest Update: 2022-01-23 04:23:24 Jinjiang Literature City
Chapter Seventeen
On the day the academy was completed, the Seraphim held a grand ceremony for the first batch of newborn angels. All the angels in the Nine Heavens learned of the academy's existence immediately.
Naturally, all the upper three-rank angels came to offer their congratulations. The Thrones could manage if they only stayed in the Stellar Heaven for a few days; this was a rare honor besides the Creation Celebration.
In fact, how to ensure the new angels could attend school smoothly troubled all the Seraphim. Seeing their companions with such expressions, the Holy Son Messiah even more worriedly considered whether to seek help from God. Heaven knows, what he feared most was facing the omnipotent creator.
In the end, Lucifer helplessly rubbed his forehead and personally set up a protective barrier surrounding the academy.
Aside from the bewildered Messiah, the other Seraphim all looked up at the Archangel with expressions of awe, even Metatron was deeply impressed and reassured him not to overreach.
To single-handedly bear the spatial pressure of the entire academy against the eighth celestial barrier, and then adjust the internal pressure to approximately the level of the first celestial barrier, the Lunar Heaven—in the entire Heaven, aside from God, perhaps only the Archangel could accomplish this.
However, such a barrier isn't something that can be maintained simply by establishing it; it requires a continuous infusion of power. This means the drain on Lucifer's resources is terrifying. A hundred or two hundred years might be manageable, but the Angelic Academy will obviously operate for a very long time, millions of years. Even the Archangel would be exhausted by then, unless his future power grows to the point where such drain becomes insignificant.
The final decision was that Lucifer would provide the necessary power as the core of the barrier, while the other Seraphim would assist by providing power to the academy periodically. The Holy Son Messiah, as the headmaster, was responsible for constantly monitoring the barrier to prevent any problems and ensuring that no angel stepped outside its protective range; otherwise, he would bear the consequences of death.
Each class was divided fairly according to the number of students; there were no so-called "excellent" or "weak" classes. Initially, they were all on the same starting line, with no inherent hierarchy.
However, as they grew and developed, serious hierarchical differences would inevitably emerge, leading to class reassignment. All the angels who understood this diligently absorbed knowledge to prepare for the future reassignment.
The angel academy's library became the most beloved place for all the angels. Not only could they occasionally see Cherubim delivering books, but they could also see His Highness the Holy Son entering and leaving the library. Unfortunately, the library had seven floors, and angels of average strength could only access the bottom two floors. Those they revered usually went to the upper floors.
The cheerful conversation abruptly stopped. The two little angels who had entered fell silent, not daring to disturb the other angels.
Their bright eyes gazed upon the library they frequented daily. Tables were laden with books, and occasionally a few angels reading would look up to greet them, while most were completely absorbed in the sea of knowledge. Little angel Tiffin, pulling his friend who was visiting for the first time, led him to an empty table.
A gasp echoed through the library. Messiah, with a gentle and elegant smile, entered. His white robes trailed on the ground, exuding an indescribable refinement and splendor. A golden sash embroidered with sacred text cinched his waist. In his arms, he carried several thick books—textbooks he would continue compiling later.
The cherubim guarding the library silently knelt. Messiah merely smiled and nodded to them before heading upstairs. Lately, he preferred to enjoy the quiet atmosphere on the seventh floor, watching the little angels studying diligently below through his clasp.
The books the little angels read didn't appear out of thin air; each one bore the mark of a high-ranking angel's hard work, not to mention the specialized teaching materials were all compiled by the Seraphim themselves.
Angels rarely show selfishness towards their own kind. The Seraphim's generous sharing of cultivation insights and techniques was enough to benefit the little angels for a lifetime. Even Messiah himself was constantly writing books, because the academy's books were far too few, and they had only recently realized they were missing some materials.
The flawless smile vanished after entering the Holy Son's reading room. Messiah glanced around the bookshelves, at the materials he needed to organize that day. He blinked lightly, an undeniable pure gold gleaming in his eyes, concealing his original brown. The Messiah of today was less a 'transmigrator' carrying the memories of the gods' past, and more a divine avatar of God Jehovah.
His will could descend into this body at any time. If Jehovah so desired, even the Messiah wouldn't know of his abnormality. This body he had meticulously crafted was the best vessel for him; even the pure spirits of angels couldn't achieve such a perfect harmony. Since his physical form couldn't freely descend to the mortal realm, it didn't mean his will couldn't roam the world freely.
Those who thought God would stay peacefully in the Crystal Heaven were too naive. If he never interfered in this world, wouldn't the demons of Hell rebel? Ultimately, he was just appearing in a different form.
Jehovah laid the book open on the table and sat down in the crystal-rimmed high chair. His slender fingers reached towards the book, grasping a quill pen imbued with holy light. He casually flicked the quill with his fingernail, seemingly issuing a perfunctory warning.
"No more adding holy light to the words."
As the deity's words fell, the feather immediately withdrew its previous brilliant holy light. Gone was the beautiful glow; it returned to its original pure white color and no longer produced any special writing effect.
If an outsider were standing here, they would surely notice the man's voice was extremely incongruous with his body. His extremely cold and detached voice was the ethereal, holy sound only a god could possess; no one without that state of mind could utter it.
His gaze swept over the original contents of the book, and Jehovah, pen in hand, crossed out the illogical parts and slowly added his own additions. Sure enough, calling the Messiah was unreliable. Even after living in Heaven for so long, he still hadn't made up for his lack of common sense. Perhaps he had omitted too much of the inherited memories in his mischievous whim.
There was no way around it; as an avatar of one's own soul, one always had to endure some hardship. Otherwise, if you so easily gained such status and power, even Jehovah would feel resentful. After all, he too had endured the torment of chaos and darkness before achieving godhood after countless eons.
"Your Highness, Prince Lucifer is outside."
The Archangel Archil, Messiah's adjutant and also the vice-principal of the academy, knocked on the door. After confirming that the newly arrived Seraphim seemed unperturbed, he quietly informed his superior inside. Even though Messiah had said he wasn't seeing any angels at the moment, he couldn't keep the Seraphim waiting indefinitely. After all, they were of equal status, and the consequence of Messiah daring to act arrogantly in front of Lucifer would be a severe beating.
Jehovah stopped what he was doing, looking at the handwriting on the paper, identical to Messiah's, and the various detailed contents. Satisfied, he closed the book. Turning his head to the left towards the entrance of the reading room, Jehovah clearly saw Lucifer outside through the door, but he didn't want to see him at this time.
His eyes gently closed, the divine light within them slowly fading as he withdrew the divine consciousness that had descended upon his body. Opening his eyes again, Jehovah was back in the Grand Cathedral of the Crystal Heaven, still seated on his throne, gazing upon the unchanging palace.
"Ah, I forgot to take the quill."
A hint of amusement flickered in his golden eyes. The silver-haired deity, resting his chin on his right hand, uttered a short, sharp sound, casually recalling something he had forgotten.
Anyway, all angels' feathers look similar; he believed the Messiah could deny it. Except for Lucifer, all the Seraphim had six golden wings; the other ranks of angels were all pure white.
In the academy's reading room, Messiah reopened the book he had just read. Finding it completely filled in, he couldn't help but praise his increased efficiency. Finishing his tasks for the day meant he could finally rest. Messiah didn't see anything wrong with it, because the memory of every word he wrote was still there; Jehovah wouldn't leave any flaws in that regard.
However, the quill on the table made him think the academy had finally abandoned those colorful dyes, because it was now pure white. This was the tragedy of being illiterate without realizing it. His Highness, the Holy Son, was confident in his strength, believing he lacked only practical experience, using this as an excuse to avoid studying, never carefully reading the theoretical knowledge about power.
However, Heaven produced so many different kinds of quills, some even adorned with elaborate decorations. Even though he had seen Lucifer unfurl his six wings of holy light quite often, Messiah hadn't connected it to him, after all, it was just a cheap white quill.
"Archil, let the Archangel in."
Hearing that Lucifer had arrived, Messiah responded to Archifer outside the door. He figured it must be something important that had summoned him, and he didn't want to be delayed.