Chapter 8 The Grand Ceremony
As time passed, the great square of the seventh day gradually became bustling.
Around nine o'clock, the bells rang, and the ceremony began. The angels raised their heads, huddled together, and gazed at the throne of God above the square.
Countless cherubim flew around the throne, and holy light descended, blurring the figure of the deity.
God had created three races—angels, demons, and elves—below whom were spirits and animals. Those with the ability were all required to gather on the seventh day for the creation ceremony of Heaven. Thus, countless beings of all kinds filled the vast heavenly path. They were diverse in appearance and affiliation, arranged neatly according to their positions, all yearning to be close to and pay homage to the divine.
Gabriel directed the lesser angels to begin their praises, their pure voices resounding throughout the heavens. To the right of the plaza, a procession marched out, led by the Seraphim Michael riding a griffin, followed by a group of Cherubim in four rows, all clad in radiant holy armor, exuding extraordinary heroism. Close behind were eight rows of Thrones, led by Samael. Over a thousand angels marched across the center of the plaza, their imposing presence awe-inspiring to all beings in the three realms.
"Angels have wings, so why do they stand on two feet?"
The demon Baal sipped grape juice, a mocking smile on his face, the crimson liquid leaving a trail at the corner of his lips.
"In vain!" The horned demon laughed loudly, mocking the angels' overestimation of their abilities.
The dark demon appeared in Heaven, and even in this currently crowded plaza, a large area around him cleared out. No living being wanted to be near the demon, except for the dozen or so demon lords Baal had brought with him. Several seraphim showed displeasure, but Lucifer remained composed. The divine creation ceremony invited all beings of the three realms, and Baal's ability to ascend to the Seventh Heaven was a testament to his skill.
He smiled faintly, then turned to Atreides, who was engrossed in drinking nectar.
"Our god will test our skills; why don't you accompany us, Elf King?"
The angels studied similar texts and practiced similar archery and astronomy. Compared to the demon race, they were of the same lineage and naturally felt close. Moreover, Atreides was pure and kind-hearted, and Lucifer often admired the Elf King.
At least it was true that the god had summoned him to the Ninth Heaven to play the harp on several occasions. The Elf King, born and raised in nature, had already reached a level of musical mastery that flowed effortlessly. Of course, once Lucifer learned to play the harp, the god rarely summoned Atreides anymore.
The omnipotent Archangel, naturally, was also the best at playing the harp.
His azure eyes met those of the emerald green ones, and Atreides, seemingly having forgotten the angel's usurpation of favor, casually tossed his light brown hair, his expression serene.
"This suits me perfectly."
The Elven King and Lucifer walked towards the direction of the gods, with the demon Baal trailing far behind. As they entered the core circle of angels, Atreides looked left and right, marveling at the sheer number of angels, far surpassing that of the elves.
Lucifer, however, faintly heard a familiar commotion. Looking over, he saw the red-haired Archangel, his face sullen and disgruntled, completely lacking angelic decorum. He glanced at the Elven King beside him, then turned to Beelzebub and asked,
"What's Michael arguing about?"
He had previously instructed them not to lose face in front of other races at such a solemn moment as the Creation Ceremony.
"He was like this after returning from the campaign, saying he was inferior to Samael in terms of imposing presence," Beelzebub replied, wiping his mouth with a cloud cloth. Michael, though carefree, possessed exceptional senses and quickly followed the sound. He first saw the radiant Seraphim and instinctively voiced his dissatisfaction.
"Your Highness! I've been cheated! The Thrones outnumber the Cherubim by far!"
As he finished speaking, he saw Atreides beside Lucifer, and behind them, the creature emanating a black aura. Almost instantly, the foolish image vanished from his face, replaced by a cold, sharp glint in the Seraphim's red eyes. The lingering aura of power reverberated, attracting the attention of the gods, whose gaze descended from the crystal heavens.
"A demon!"
Michael tensed. Had Lucifer not subtly restrained his hand, the holy lightsaber would have materialized in his right. Samael followed closely behind, his gaze wary. Angels were pure spirits, bestowed with purity by God, and thus they abhorred all other forms of beauty. This extreme xenophobia was unmatched by any other creation.
Demons loathed angels as angels disliked demons, but before God, Baal did not engage in pointless resistance. He slowly passed the bristling angel, bowed to the throne, and then brazenly gazed at the holy light. Baal remembered the holiness within that light; he had once reached out and touched the horns on his head. That time was brief yet incredibly beautiful, so much so that the Demon King still cherished it in Hell.
Baal poured out his heart before that holy light, unaware that God, high above in the heavens, regarded his sincerity as nothing. God remained unmoved, but Lucifer could not turn a blind eye. The divine authority granted only to the Archangel before his throne, and Lucifer unhesitatingly exercised this power to block Baal's path, lest he defile God's sight and hearing.
"Lucifer, sit down."
God favored his Morning Star, yet remembered all his creations. Though he didn't often think about it, he was truly impressed by Baal.
Then the holy light burning upon the throne of the Seventh Heaven flickered, and God's voice emanated from within the light.
"Baal, the first demon, what drove you through the nine gates of Hell to ascend to Heaven?"
God saw in Baal the process of him heeding Vasak's advice, leading the demons through hardship to escape the gates of Hell and climb to Heaven. Those gates were a constraint God had imposed after the end of creation to prevent demons from freely visiting the mortal realm as before. God would not descend into Hell, so Vasak persuaded the demons to come to Heaven.
"My God, all beings in the Three Realms are blessed by Your Majesty. We have heard that the Archangel intends to hold a tournament across the Three Realms to please you. The glory of creation is vast indeed. Balth, along with several lords, offers their congratulations."
Lucifer had never mentioned holding any tournament; at most, he wanted to demonstrate the power of the angelic race to God, much like a growing child seeking validation from their father. The demon's words were both sarcastic and pointed, both mocking the angels' sycophancy and hinting at his intention to usurp their position. The Archangel, dignified and quick-witted, had never heard such malicious words before. He met Baal's cold gaze without flinching.
Baal wasn't stupid. Reminded by Vasak, he had realized the Creator's favoritism. Demons were inherently undisciplined; he should have realized this much later. If he hadn't been at a disadvantage in his struggle with Agares... Thinking of the cunning Agares, Baal gritted his teeth. That despicable rival had seized control of the demon army with his sweet words. If he hadn't been driven to desperation, he wouldn't have ventured into the gates of Hell.
The nine-layered gate—three layers of brass, three layers of iron, and three layers of stone—was difficult to open, not to mention the insurmountable flames beyond the stone. Thinking of the hardships he had endured, the demon's purple eyes darted around faster. He swallowed his bitter pill. Vasak's Eye of Truth told him that this journey to Heaven would lead him to a new path to Hell, a new way out for him.
God is omniscient; Baal's thoughts were all exposed. But he said nothing, only gently appeasing the kind-hearted Archangel, which only fueled the demon's jealousy.
Golden Eyes observed everything but remained silent. God created all things, yet never bound their minds. All things possess the inherent right to free will, and likewise, nothing can shake God's favoritism.
Faced with Baal's proposed Three Realms Tournament, God granted it with a single word:
"Good."
Skills, classics, archery, astronomy, and arithmetic—these were subjects taught at the Angel Academy, originally intended to showcase the angels' abilities to God. However, due to the demons' interference, only archery remained out of the six subjects. The Demon King, ignorant and only good at fighting, was unashamed of the many scornful glances.
"We also have those who excel in their studies, but demons, most of them don't like reading. This is for the sake of fairness."
Therefore, demons are generally considered shameless. God, seated on his throne in the Crystal Heaven, lowered his head, his golden eyes shining brightly. He gazed down upon the mortal realm, having proactively set up seven drums in the cleared plaza, promising a reward to the best archer.
Upon hearing this, even the serene Elf King, whose heart was as still as a spring, felt a surge of excitement. He knew from Lucifer's summons of Metaronta that the Archangel had no intention of personally participating, and a moment of regret crossed his mind. Since Lucifer wasn't participating, he, as the Elf King, couldn't very well participate directly.
"Salamander, Sylph..."
Five elves appeared at his call: Salamander, skilled in fire; Sylph, adept at wind; Undine, a master of water; and Norm, the earth spirit, and Esley, the wood spirit. All were elves born from the Tree of Life, naturally attuned to and adept at the five elements.
At the Elf King's command, the five elves danced gracefully, weaving nimbly through the trees. The beauty of elves was no less than that of angels; in fact, having spent years traversing the complex forests, they were even more agile than angels, natural archers, wondrous creations capable of transforming power into beauty.
Under the watchful gaze of the gods, each of the five elemental forces shattered a drum. No one could deny that, in the realm of beauty, none could rival the spectacle of the elf's archery dance.
"Arrows are for warriors; what is there to praise in such weak and feeble archery?"
Baal revealed a disdainful and arrogant gaze. At his command, a green-clad demon, carrying a longbow and a quiver at his waist, stepped forward.
"The demon Lerakin, if struck by his arrows, will cause the wound to fester and rot."
The cherubim Raphael softly uttered his name. Raphael compiled the Book of Beings for the gods, and was intimately familiar with angels, demons, and elves alike.
"His arrows contain the power of a curse."
Lucifer recognized Lerakin. He knew every enemy who posed a threat to angels; he knew even more than Raphael. Raphael would consult the Seraphim when encountering difficulties in compiling his documents.
Just as air currents don't cause injury, angels' wounds generally heal quickly. However, the curse power of demons is an exception; it hinders this innate healing ability. It's somewhat troublesome, but not insurmountable. Lucifer turned to look at Metatronta.
"Which angel do you recommend?"
Metronta gently pulled out a trembling little angel from behind him, one of the few angels Lucifer had recently punished.
"In terms of archery alone, Cupid has the highest talent."
The blond, blue-eyed angel looked somewhat uneasy. Lucifer assumed it was because the little guy was nervous about his first big situation and patted Cupid's head.
"Can you do it, Cupid?"
The demons had only sent one, Leragin. Their choice had to be careful. Too much caution wouldn't work, nor would underestimating the enemy. Metatronta was in charge of the entire Angel Academy, and Lucifer trusted his companion's choice.
Cupid hesitated. The mother arrow belonging to His Highness Lucifer hadn't been fired yet; he couldn't use his bow now.
"Don't underestimate yourself, Cupid."
Looking at Metatronta's encouraging gaze, Cupid couldn't bring himself to refuse. He could only suffer in silence, or rather, dare not speak his bitterness. Prince Lucifer seemed kind and approachable, but Cupid remembered how sternly he had punished them by sending them to Mercury Heaven. If it weren't for that, he wouldn't have considered revenge.
Just as he hesitated about whether to reveal the truth, the image of Leragin shooting an arrow through three drums in the square caught his eye.
"Let Uriel go," Samael said, watching the demon's increased momentum and worrying that the little angel wouldn't be able to handle it.
Lucifer looked down at the little angel's bright blue eyes and found that they held not fear, but rather a fighting spirit full of eager anticipation. He couldn't help but smile. Metatronta hadn't chosen the wrong person.
"Cupid, are you confident?"
Cupid, his competitive spirit ignited, didn't react immediately and nodded. Only when he stood in the square, under the gaze of tens of thousands of eyes, did he realize what he had done.
Some of the academy's little angels recognized him and cheered with pride, while the more impatient ones shouted eagerly.
"Cupid! What are you standing there for? Draw the arrow!"
Cupid was caught in a dilemma. He closed his eyes, took an ordinary arrow from his quiver, hesitantly drew the bow, and then watched in despair as golden-pink spiritual energy visibly spread throughout the arrow.
He told me it wouldn't work! Now, should he shoot or not?!
"The Arrow of Lust?!" The Archangel Asmodeus, upon seeing the arrow, straightened up abruptly from his slumped position on the table, his sea-blue eyes widening in surprise. His handsome features made even this expression of astonishment seem pitifully endearing. Lucifer, however, showed no pity for the beauty; his sharp gaze made Asmodeus flinch.
"What did you say?"
The moment the golden arrow appeared, Lucifer immediately sensed something amiss. The arrow contained spiritual power; the feeling was too mysterious, leading him to immediately conclude that it was related to him. Now Asmodeus was calling it the Arrow of Lust?
The Guide, though not angry, exuded an imposing aura, and when angered, the pressure was overwhelming. Asmodeus, with a pained expression, explained what the Arrow of Lust was. If asked how he knew, he said it was because he had helped Cupid develop its power.
Meanwhile, a leopard-headed, winged demon beside Baal whispered something in his ear.
"Oh, Siddi, are you sure?"
"This is the Arrow of Lust," Siddi said with absolute certainty. Having spent years as a demon, Siddi, who could drive his opponents to the brink of madness, had long since mastered the power of lust. These abilities, rejected by Heaven, were quite common in Hell, and the demons were no strangers to them. Baal was simply surprised to see them in this sacred Heaven.
"Interesting."
Heaven wasn't as holy as they had imagined. Baal hadn't missed the tense atmosphere on the angels' side. With Siddi's explanation, he understood the arrow's power and couldn't help but lick his lips.
"Little angel, if you're scared, then this demon king will take your place." He personally stepped forward, seemingly intent on taking the arrow.
"Your Highness, we absolutely cannot let the demons get that arrow!" Asmodeus cried out.
"Do you even need to tell me!"
Upon hearing the story of the Arrow of Deception, Lucifer, forgetting his grudge against Asmodeus, gazed at the plaza with an unprecedentedly grave expression. He watched as Baal approached Cupid, his six wings unfurled, and with a graceful leap, landed before Cupid. He grasped Cupid's hand, helping him draw his bow.
"Your Highness!" Cupid shrieked, but Lucifer paid no heed. Ignoring Cupid's cries and struggles, he drew his bow towards the drums arranged vertically in the plaza at the demons' command. His fluid movements were like flowing water; the golden arrow, imbued with a mysterious power and Lucifer's own spiritual energy, shot forth, piercing seven drums, soaring through the clouds, crossing the mortal realm, and falling into Hell. Hell erupted in light, and all demons wailed simultaneously.
Cupid's arrow shot straight into the depths of Hell, finally embedding itself in a giant rock at the lowest level of Hell.
The barrage of arrows came without pause; Baal hadn't even had time to react. The majesty of the Vice-King of Heaven was not to be underestimated. Having fired, he sheathed his bow, his azure eyes gleaming with sharp light. In the empty plaza, Lucifer stood there, his sacred six wings unfurled behind him, radiating a chilling and unapproachable aura under the light.
Baal was startled, and under this overwhelming pressure, he took two steps back before raising his hands in surrender.
The Arrow of Lust has two arrows, a mother and a child. The one struck by the first arrow becomes the child, destined to be driven mad by the mother arrow. All say the Archangel's faith is devout; as the boulder testifies, his heart is as unyielding as a rock.
Only the gods gaze upon the nine layers of Hell.