Chapter 33: Punishment
"God," he called out. Sensing the deity's dispassionate gaze—devoid of both sorrow and joy—settle upon him, Lucifer stepped forward and whispered, "Shall I, Lucifer, investigate the full details of this matter so that a proper explanation may be given to Adam?"
"There is no need for such trouble," God rejected the Archseraph's proposal. Extending a hand from within the Holy Light, He beckoned to Adam.
"Adam, come here."
The silver-haired deity quickly perceived the sequence of events through Adam.
He felt no anger regarding Adam's plight; rather, He was displeased by the presence of deceitful and sophistical angels within Heaven.
"It was Beelzebub."
Lucifer had not anticipated that one of the Archseraphim would incur God's displeasure. His heart tightened, and he asked in a low voice, "Shall Beelzebub be summoned to the Grand Cathedral?"
"There is no need." God stroked Adam's short silver hair; finding it slightly prickly to the touch, He withdrew His hand and spoke indifferently: "Angels are enjoined against arrogance and conceit; the Archon Angel failed to exercise proper discernment. He is hereby sentenced to ten days of confinement in the Sphere of Mars."
"Touch it again, Father!"
"...Do not be so mischievous, Adam."
"But it feels so nice."
Although a ten-day confinement was not a particularly severe punishment, it marked the first time God had personally issued a decree to punish an angel. If handled improperly, it risked sowing confusion among the angelic host.
Lucifer was tempted to ask what exactly Beelzebub had done to Adam, but witnessing the intimacy between the human and God, he abandoned the notion of seeking further information from the Deity.
"God, I, Lucifer, shall take my leave."
God watched the Archseraph's retreating figure, and for a brief moment, His mind went blank.
It was the first time Lucifer had withdrawn without waiting for His assent.
In that instant, He sensed Lucifer's anger—yet it lasted but a fleeting moment before that sharp emotion dissipated into thin air, leaving the Archseraph once again the same docile and decorous angel as before.
However, God does not suffer from delusions. With unblinking golden eyes, he gazed intently at the Seraph's towering figure. He watched as the Seraph descended from the Seventh Heaven, entered the Arch-Seraph's palace, and subsequently dispatched a Cherub to summon Beelzebub; outwardly, there appeared to be nothing amiss.
"Fool!" Beelzebub—who had left Adam behind to enter the main hall—muttered to himself. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, his heart felt unsettled; recalling Adam's foolish face, he cursed him once more with bitter resentment.
"Foolish human."
"Your Highness Beelzebub."
"Raphael," he said, turning to his adjutant. "What brings you here?"
"Matters in the Garden of Eden are proceeding smoothly. The Dominions and Virtues have constructed a paradise of unprecedented splendor within the Fourth Heaven."
"Hmph. That is indeed excellent news—that *we* should toil so tirelessly, only for *humans* to reap the rewards without lifting a finger," Beelzebub scoffed.
"On my way back, I crossed paths with Adam," Raphael remarked, presenting the latest blueprints with a smile.
"So *that* explains why he returned so quickly."
"Why does Your Highness harbor such strong animosity toward humans?" Raphael asked gently. "Heaven is vast—a boundless expanse of pure, pristine white. When I encountered Adam, he was utterly disoriented, running blindly and aimlessly through the skies; he was panting heavily from exhaustion, yet he refused to stop."
Observing that Beelzebub remained silent—though clearly listening intently—Raphael offered a knowing smile.
"And so, I asked him: why are you so utterly determined?"
"Why else? The glutton is simply obsessed with food," Beelzebub retorted, curling his lip in disdain.
"Adam told me that he had made a new friend—one who yearned to taste the waters of the Celestial River. And so, he vowed that he would find the Celestial River, no matter the cost."
Raphael's words caused Beelzebub to pause in surprise. He remained silent, appearing to be deep in thought. "He places such trust in his friends' words; even when I took him to witness the celestial spectacle of the Milky Way with his own eyes, his only sorrow was that his friends could not drink from the River of Heaven."
"That is simply because he is too foolish." Beelzebub appeared somewhat ill at ease. He picked up the blueprints Raphael had presented and scrutinized them closely. The drawings provided an aerial view of the entire garden—detailing the layout of the four rivers channeled from the Holy Mountain to irrigate the flora, the enclosures for various rare and exotic beasts, and precise annotations regarding the species and quantity of every fruit-bearing tree.
Recalling the Arch-Seraph's instructions, he asked, "Have the locations of the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge been altered?"
Raphael paused for a moment. "No. Regarding those two trees, ought we not first seek guidance from Our God...?"
Since God had not endowed humanity with wisdom equal to that of the angels, He surely must have had His reasons; Raphael hesitated. Yet Beelzebub merely laughed. "What is there to ask? Lord Lucifer has already given his word on the matter."
"Besides, given how dim-witted he is, he could certainly stand to eat a few more fruits of knowledge."
"But..."
"Come, join me as we travel to the Fourth Heaven to transplant the trees. That fellow is in for a true culinary treat—for among all the fruits in existence, those borne by the Tree of Knowledge are the most delectable of all!"
The Tree of Life had been planted by God in the Fourth Heaven during the very creation of Paradise; it was older even than the Arch-Seraphs themselves. No sooner had Beelzebub painstakingly transplanted the Tree of Life into the Garden of Eden than a Cherub arrived with a summons: the Arch-Seraph required his presence at the palace.
"Is he truly so petty? Did he actually go running to the Grand Cathedral to lodge a complaint?!" Beelzebub was utterly aghast. His expression immediately darkened. "I knew that contemptible wretch was beneath contempt—and he certainly hasn't disappointed me." He gave a cold, scornful laugh. "Beelzebub!" Lucifer roared in anger. "As a Seraph, you ought to be prudent in your speech and conduct. Do you acknowledge your error?"
"And what if I *am* in the wrong? What then, Your Highness?" Beelzebub showed no signs of backing down; far from regretting his teasing of Adam, he only lamented that he hadn't tormented him *enough* back then.
"To knowingly transgress, and still harbor a delusional hope of impunity... I now see that Our God's punishment of a mere ten days' confinement was far too lenient." Seeing Beelzebub's defiant, insubordinate demeanor, Lucifer's face instantly turned cold. With a decisive sweep of his hand, he summarily extended the period of confinement to a full month.
Beelzebub froze, stunned. He had never expected Lucifer to be so utterly merciless; his face instantly fell, etched with an expression of profound disappointment.
"Fine, confinement it is." He tossed the blueprints he held in his hand aside, turned on his heel, and stormed out.
He must have been bewitched by some demon to have ever thought of pouring his heart and soul into serving that mere human!
"What is a human, anyway?! To demand that *I*—an Archangel—personally oversee the preparation of his living quarters, only to receive no gratitude for my pains in the end!"
He had entered in high spirits, yet now he stormed out in a fit of rage. He nearly collided head-on with Belial, who was just about to enter the room; Beelzebub paid him no mind, yet it was Belial—typically the most silent and taciturn of them all—who called out to him.
"What is it?! Can't you see that I—an Archangel—am in a rush to go serve my confinement?!"
"...Before you go, perhaps you ought to go... have a soak," Belial said, pointing toward Beelzebub's wings.
Beelzebub started in alarm. He looked down at his own wings only to discover that the very tips of his magnificent plumage had become tainted by a faint, greyish pallor.
"How is this possible?! I am a Sera... a Seraph!" He clutched at his wingtips in horror, gazing at Belial with a look of utter bewilderment and helplessness—so distraught that he was on the verge of tears.
"You are the first Seraph in history to ever contract the 'Grey Wing' affliction," Belial stated calmly. His tone betrayed neither sorrow nor joy, yet—paradoxically—it sounded strangely laced with mockery. "Are you mocking me, Belial?"
"No, it's simply the truth," Belial replied. "Why are you making *me* transplant the Tree of Wisdom? That's *your* job."
Belial strove to convey—as tactfully as possible—that he and Beelzebub were hardly close acquaintances. Ever since the Holy War, the Archangel of the Dominions seemed to harbor a misconception regarding the nature of their relationship. Belial had never considered himself to be friends with *any* angel; yet Beelzebub, for some reason, believed they shared a bond of battlefield camaraderie—a notion that was severely cutting into Belial's precious rest time.
This time, however, was simply too much. It was just a tree, for Heaven's sake—did Beelzebub really have the audacity to expect *him* to move it?
"Don't you dare mention the Garden of Eden to me!" Beelzebub fumed. "It's all that human's fault! If he hadn't gone running to tell tales, His Highness wouldn't have cast me aside like this!"
The thought made him feel even more aggrieved. "It's bad enough that God plays favorites with that little wretch, but why must His Highness take Adam's side, too? Who exactly is *his* subordinate, anyway?!"
"Lucifer is the Archangel of the Seraphim—a position of immense power and authority," Belial observed, gazing toward the direction of the Ninth Heaven. The Divine Will was not easily appeased—a fact he understood more clearly than any other angel. "And for that very reason, he is often the one with the least freedom of his own."
Belial's words seemed to lift Beelzebub's spirits ever so slightly; he looked on with a flicker of surprise at the usually indolent angel.
"It's rare to hear you say so much in one day."
Having delivered his piece, however, Belial immediately reverted to his usual state—looking as if he were on the verge of drifting off to sleep at any moment.
"Tch. How boring." Beelzebub curled his lip in disdain at Belial's perpetually deadpan expression, then spread his wings, preparing to take flight.
"Don't forget to stop by the Small Chapel," Belial called out abruptly.
"Nag, nag, nag!" Beelzebub smirked. "Consider it done, *Archangel*."
Inside the Hall of Morning Light, Lucifer's expression was equally grim.
The Divine Decree had been delivered, yet he remained seated, staring blankly at his desk—a rare occurrence indeed.
He was typically a whirlwind of activity; his desk was perpetually buried beneath an endless mountain of paperwork. Tasks completed today were merely replaced by a fresh batch of duties awaiting his attention tomorrow.
Day after day, he repeated this cycle of work—tasks that were at once identical and yet ever-changing—immersing his mind and soul completely within them. Yet never before had he experienced this peculiar sensation: gazing upon a pile of official duties, only to find himself utterly devoid of the passion to attend to them. It felt as though nothing remained within his heart but a hollow void.
"Lucie." A divine voice echoed from the void. Lucifer started awake, overwhelmed—more with joy than with shock—for it had been a long time since God had personally descended to visit.
"God, why have You come down?"
"You have proclaimed My decree." God gazed at the angel's profile—rendered flawless and perfect as he bowed his head in reverence.
"The Lord Archangel was insolent; I have already punished him by sending him to the Sphere of Mars to reflect upon his errors for a month." At the mention of Beelzebub's name, the joy in Lucifer's heart dimmed slightly; yet, God's next words made him feel as though he had plunged into an icy abyss.
"Beelzebub shows signs of falling," God stated.
"Forgive me, my God!" Lucifer's expression grew stern, and his face turned pale. "I will surely guide Beelzebub with the utmost care."
The atmosphere fell into silence; God and His most beloved angel exchanged no further words.
After a long while, God let out a soft sigh.
"Lucie, you are unhappy."
*I am not!* Lucifer was just about to retort.
God's figure was enveloped in holy light; He stood before Lucifer, reaching out His hand—just as He had always done.
Lucifer felt God's warm palm brush gently against his wings before finally resting upon his hand; his turbulent heart suddenly found a profound peace.
"The construction of the Garden of Eden is complete. Come with Me, and let us go see it together."
God healed the fissure in Lucifer's heart-core—a crack that had shown signs of widening—and, treating him as one would a sulking eldest son of the household, He took the angel's hand and spoke.
[Hebrew Mythology] *The Arduous History of Raising a World* — by the author Dan Mu'ai