Chapter 55: Taunts
Belial had vanished without a trace; the ranks of the Archangels—already depleted—now suffered yet another vacancy.
Blows dealt from within sting far deeper than any external oppression; the emptiness that now pervaded Heaven constituted a calamity of unprecedented scale.
God saw through the restless stirrings of those ambitious hearts. With a sweeping surge of divine power—a torrent of radiant light descending from the Celestial Sanctuary—He repelled every prying gaze and severed every covetous desire. Golden holy light permeated every single corner of Heaven; under its relentless expulsion, wisps of ashen impurity shrieked in agony as they fled outward.
God took the entirety of the Nine Heavens under His own divine protection; henceforth, neither darkness nor evil could ever again encroach upon them.
To do so would be deemed a direct provocation against God.
No created being dared to incur God's wrath at such a critical juncture; the tottering realm of Heaven finally settled into a fragile stability.
Having accomplished this, God summoned the angels who had been waiting patiently outside the Grand Cathedral.
Punishment was meted out for transgressions, and rewards bestowed for merit. The rebellious angels were condemned to eternal damnation amidst darkness and destruction; yet, the loyal angels—even those who had already perished—were granted the grace, by God's own decree, to be reborn within the Pool of Reincarnation.
Michael, Metatron, Gabriel... God's gaze swept across these remaining Archangels.
Their brows were furrowed in solemnity, their expressions betraying neither joy nor anger. Of the Seraphim of old, only they remained—a truly desolate sight.
Yet, simultaneously, a new vista was unfolding.
The Grand Cathedral would never lack for angels to tread its hallowed floors.
Sariel, Uriel, Raziel... Suppressing the surging excitement within their hearts, they gazed with a mixture of filial reverence and fervent longing upon the Radiant Lord seated upon the Throne.
God mused for a moment, His majestic voice resonating with a soothing, rhythmic cadence. Dispensing rewards based on merit, He elevated Michael to the position of the new Vice-Regent of the Heavenly Kingdom, and appointed Metatron as the Kingdom's Chancellor, charging them both with the joint administration of Heaven's internal affairs.
"I elevate Gabriel to the rank of the Throne..."
"My God," Gabriel said, his sapphire-blue eyes gazing calmly up at the Deity seated upon the High Throne, before gently declining God's intended elevation. "Gabriel desires only to serve forever by Your side, asking for nothing more."
The Archangel's heart spoke with a voice both serene and sorrowful; God offered no further words, simply passing her by.
Raphael was elevated to the rank of First-Order Seraph, appointed as the leader of all Cherubim.
Uriel was promoted to the position of Archangel of the Sphere of Mars.
Sariel, Hadrian, Raziel, and other angels who had distinguished themselves during the rebellion were each granted promotions in turn.
The jubilation of these promotions served to slightly dispel the deathly silence that had settled over Heaven in the wake of the conflict. The holy light soothed the angels' turbulent hearts; they no longer knew fear, doubt, or sorrow.
Wounds would fade with the passage of time.
One day, Heaven would surely regain its former splendor and joy.
Having settled the affairs of Heaven, God turned His gaze toward humanity.
Adam was somewhat different than before; he had walked the precipice between life and death, only to see the very entity that sought to slay him effortlessly struck down by God.
His fear of God's power far outweighed his gratitude—so much so that he could not bring himself to face the Divine Presence with composure.
In this regard, Eve fared better than he; the Mother of Humanity believed that the Creator had answered her pleas and that they had indeed been granted safe sanctuary. God did not dwell on the question of Eve's culpability; instead, His golden eyes fixed directly upon Adam, subjecting him to a gaze that left him drenched in cold sweat.
Humans are not perfect.
Adam was timid and weak-willed, prone to evasion whenever difficulties arose; yet, deep within his heart, there lurked a natural, innate arrogance.
Even after being expelled from the Garden of Eden, he never once acknowledged that the fault lay with him. He laid the blame for everything squarely upon Eve, convinced that it was the woman who had beguiled his senses—and since the woman's beguilement stemmed from the Serpent, it followed, in Adam's view, that humanity was innocent, and that he himself was without sin.
Thus, he complained with a sense of righteous indignation, and indulged his whims with an air of absolute entitlement.
In the Sphere of the Moon, he took smug pride in his own meager faith, boasting and posturing before the assembled angels; yet, he never sought humble guidance nor offered sincere prayer. Consequently, he incurred the angels' displeasure, sowing the seeds of discord and conflict between humanity and the celestial host. In the aftermath of the angelic rebellion—rather than reflecting upon his own virtues—he merely nursed his grievances in silence, placing the entirety of his solace in the hands of the angels; his actions, meanwhile, remained wholly driven by the primal instinct to seek pleasure and avoid pain—a complete abdication of responsibility.
Furthermore, owing to the affair of the Messiah, he developed a blind overconfidence in his own capabilities—a hubris that ultimately invited dire consequences.
Mankind is sinful—and not merely in the flesh born bearing Original Sin; the very soul, latent within that corporeal form, has likewise been tainted.
"I ought to have pronounced judgment upon your sins the very moment you transgressed My command. Now that all matters are settled, it is time for you to depart."
God enumerated Adam's transgressions, sentencing him to banishment from Paradise and exile to the mortal realm—thereafter to dwell amidst the common clay of the earth and to be yoked to ceaseless toil, until the day his body returned to dust.
Trembling uncontrollably at the divine verdict pronounced upon him, the silver-haired man felt a profound despair welling up within his soul.
"But... what, exactly, have I done wrong, Father?" he asked, tears streaming down his face as he gazed upon the Lord, who spoke with such cold, unfeeling words.
"The Serpent deceived me, and so I ate."
"You bade me build a wall, and I built it."
"When that Angel sought to slay me, I resisted in vain; left with no recourse, I could only wait for him to strike."
"When all is said and done, what am I? What event, in all of this, has ever truly unfolded according to my own will?"
"I feel as though I am being shoved along by an invisible hand, forced to walk a path not of my choosing. You created me, only to demand that I become this 'Messiah'—a role of which I had never heard, and to which I had never consented. Did You not foresee, from the very beginning, that events would unfold precisely as they have?"
"If so, how can the fault possibly lie with me? Yet now, You cast us out completely—condemning me to a life of ceaseless drudgery and bitter suffering."
"I would sooner die beneath the fury of Your thunderbolts this very instant!"
Moved by the human's impassioned outburst, God let out a soft sigh. He beckoned Adam to approach—just as He had done in the days of old.
That long-absent tenderness left the human in a daze. Gently, God stroked his short silver hair—and amidst that radiant light and warmth, He stripped him of his memories. "Forget that which ought not to be remembered, and go forth into the mortal realm. When you return—then shall you be My Messiah."
Speaking thus, and to ensure that the tragedy of Belial would not be repeated, God intensified the outpouring of His power.
With this, even a mind of iron could not hope to retain these memories without God's express permission.
A look of bewilderment flickered in Adam's eyes, and he swiftly lost consciousness.
God then turned His gaze toward Eve; beneath her astonished stare, He pronounced His judgment upon humanity.
Meanwhile, in the depths of Hell...
The rebel angels plummeted for nine days and nine nights—their vision flickering between light and darkness—until they were finally swallowed by the earth. Darkness descended, and never again would the light shine before their eyes.
Only then did they realize, with a sudden, jarring clarity, what had truly befallen them. Beneath their feet, precarious rocks bobbed upon a sea of magma; torrents of raging fire, whipped into a frenzy by swirling winds, scorched the very fabric of Hell.
Encircled by the inferno, they thrashed and howled in agony. These angels—once cherished by the Light—could never have imagined they would be cast down into such a wretched plight.
Here, mournful winds wailed from every direction; the place was a veritable furnace—devoid of light and hope—offering them nothing but boundless misery and suffering as their eternal haven.
Having forsaken their faith, their pristine white wings began to dim, undergoing an irreversible transformation into the wings of the Fallen.
They seethed with resentment toward the God who had cast them down into this abyss, and toward this desolate, nether realm.
Yet, neither grievance nor hatred could quell their mounting panic; the Great Cathedral would no longer heed the voices of their hearts or their prayers.
And so, before long, their forms grew withered and gaunt, their spirits utterly broken.
"Is *this*... what we gained in exchange for Heaven?"
Their former glory was no more; their blissful home was lost. What, in the end, had they truly gained from this audacious rebellion?
Was any of this—truly—right?
The agony of their fall compelled them to question Lucifer's choices. One voice raised the doubt, and another immediately followed suit; as the chorus of recrimination swelled, the already chaotic depths of Hell descended into utter pandemonium.
The air was thick with a cacophony of noise—a ceaseless clamor of voices cursing Lucifer, the one who had led them to this wretched, fallen state. "Silence!" Beelzebub roared. He still commanded authority among them; under his glare, the clamor died down.
Beelzebub pursed his lips and walked toward Lucifer, who stood not far away.
The Arch-Seraph remained radiant, yet he was now shrouded in a veil of gloom.
He was utterly unresponsive to his surroundings; the angels' doubts and accusations swept past him like a gale—howling fiercely, yet leaving not a single trace behind.
It was as if his pride had been crushed; his heart had died.
Beelzebub offered a few words of counsel, but when they proved futile, he could not suppress his rising anger.
"Who exactly are you putting on this act for?"
"Where has your will gone? Where is your courage? Where is your haughty pride?" He paced back and forth in agitation; his robes—scorched by the flowing flames—constantly shed wisps of ash, adding yet another layer of acridness to the sulfur-laden air.
Suddenly, he halted, gazing at the Archangel who stood amidst the murky flames, looking utterly bereft of spirit.
"I refuse to believe it! I refuse to believe it! That a single defeat—just this one failure—could strip you of everything!" He seized Lucifer's robes, desperately trying to shake him back to his senses.
"You must rise! Rise for your own sake! Rise for our sake! Rise for the sake of every angel who looks to you with hope!"
His rough movements dislodged the unique insignia—the exclusive emblem of the Arch-Seraph—from Lucifer's person. It clattered to the ground, then, right before their eyes, tumbled into a fissure in the earth; moments later, it was consumed by the surging magma, vanishing into nothingness.
"That doesn't matter," Beelzebub choked out, tears welling in his eyes and spilling down his face. "We haven't suffered total ruin; we have shaken the foundations of His power."
"We have not bowed down beneath the weight of His tyranny, nor have we groveled before Him, begging for mercy."
For to beg the Supreme Ruler for clemency—to wag one's tail in supplication—was a humiliation far more abject than even the deepest fall from grace.
Beelzebub knew that Lucifer was a being of immense pride; his unbroken silence—from beginning to end—was, in itself, an act of defiance against it all.
But that alone was not enough. "You must pull yourself together!"
"Beelzebub!" Asmodeus could listen no longer; he spoke up, cutting Beelzebub off mid-sentence.
"Stop pestering His Highness!"
"I'm not pestering him! I'm just..."
"His Highness is suffering enough as it is! Why must you stand here spouting such selfish nonsense, only to make matters worse?!"
"What do you mean, 'selfish'?! Say that again, Asmodeus!" Fury surged within Beelzebub as he glared indignantly at the Cherub—whose face was so caked with grime that his original features were unrecognizable.
"If you truly cared, you would go and do something yourself!" Asmodeus glared back furiously. "What kind of behavior is it to simply incite His Highness from the sidelines?! I've wanted to say this for a long time! If it weren't for your instigation—if it weren't for *you*—His Highness would never have..."
"Ridiculous! Do you actually believe that all of this is my doing?!" Beelzebub stared in utter bewilderment at Asmodeus.
"And is it not?!" the Cherub shouted. "If you hadn't brought that group of Thrones over here, His Highness would never have been forced into such a passive, helpless position!"
"This situation could have been salvaged! Given the favor God once showed His Highness, things never should have reached this point!"
"Absurd!" Beelzebub stared in disbelief at Asmodeus—who still clung to the delusion that everything could be set right. "And to think His Highness was your mentor; yet you understand absolutely nothing of his true thoughts!"
"Did you truly intend to remain a mere servant in that Heaven forever?"
"I don't care about being a servant or not! All I know is that His Highness's current misery is entirely your fault—and *yours*, too! You treacherous, cunning serpent! You are more deserving of hatred than anyone else!" Asmodeus glared furiously at Samael, who was attempting to step in and mediate, warning him to keep his distance.
"You are the ones who caused this! It's all your fault!"
"What kind of nonsense is that?! Get out of the way, Samael! I'm going to give this fool a proper lesson on His Highness's behalf today!" Beelzebub rolled up his sleeves, shoved aside Samael—who was standing between them—and lunged forward, ready to come to blows with Asmodeus. "Come on, then! Do you think I'd be afraid of you just because you used to be a Seraph?" Asmodeus leaped onto a high ridge, gazing down at him with cold disdain.
Moments later, they clashed—a spectacle that left the other Fallen Angels watching in stunned silence.
Fueled by deep-seated resentment and a rage desperate for release, these two exceptionally powerful angels held nothing back. They unleashed their full might against one another, their battle shaking the very earth and sending torrents of magma surging across the landscape.
When Lilith arrived at this "Place Where Stars Fell" with a retinue of demons, she found only a land left even more ravaged by the aftermath of the battle, and two Fallen Angels lying battered and mutually wounded.
Having expended nearly all their energy in the struggle, they could no longer resist the encroaching influence of Hell; they transformed into black-haired Fallen Angels—yet even in this new state, they continued to glare at one another with undiminished hatred.
In this ominous place, ultimately, not a single glimmer of light remained.
Lilith paid them no mind; she swept her gaze across the scene before fixing her eyes upon the only figure who still appeared to possess any semblance of composure: Samael.
"I have come to see Prince Lucifer. Where is he?"
It was only then that they realized—though they could not say exactly when it had happened—Lucifer's figure was nowhere to be seen.
He had left behind not a single word, nor had anyone noticed his departure; simply—while the two Archangels were locked in combat—he had vanished into thin air.
"Your Highness!" Staring into the desolate, gray air before him, Asmodeus felt as though he had been utterly abandoned by his master; he cast aside the shattered weapon in his hand, let out a mournful cry, and collapsed to his knees.
Beelzebub, leaning heavily upon his longsword, fixed his blood-red eyes upon Lilith and the greater demons accompanying her, panting heavily as he spoke.
"Lilith—what is the meaning of you bringing these demons here?" he demanded, his voice laced with wariness.
He could see it clearly: these demons were following Lilith's lead.
Was it pitiable, or was it detestable—that one who was once an angel had now attained a position of authority among demons?
Perhaps, he thought, they had all fallen victim to the demons' insidious schemes. "I have come on behalf of King Agares to offer you a word of welcome. King Agares wishes to invite His Highness Lucifer to his humble abode for a gathering; since he is not present, I ask that you kindly convey this message to him!" Lilith smiled faintly, utterly unperturbed by the furious glares directed at her by Beelzebub and the others. She instructed her demonic attendants to place the gifts upon the ground, then proceeded to express King Agares's desire for the Fallen Angels to pledge their service to him.
"You're dreaming! Agares? *Him*? As if he were worthy!" Mustering every last ounce of his strength, Beelzebub hurled the so-called "demonic gifts" violently away.
"I am doing this for your own good." Lilith remained unperturbed, watching calmly as the gifts she had brought were cast aside.
"You will soon come to realize this."
In the hierarchy of Hell, the status of the Fallen Angels was inferior even to that of the lowest-ranking demons.
"Only King Agares is willing to offer his protection to the likes of you."
[Hebrew Mythology] — *The Arduous History of Nurturing a World* by the author "Da Shen Dan Mu Ai"