Chapter 74: Tears of the Gods
Mammon refused to cooperate, so he was kept bound.
As if to see whose patience would outlast the other's, Haniya took him everywhere he went, pausing every so often to ask if he had changed his mind.
When the angel prayed using scripture, Mammon was forced to sit nearby and absorb the spiritual atmosphere; and whenever the melodies of hymns rang out, his entire face went completely numb.
This peaceful, placid daily routine left the thrill-seeking demon feeling utterly drowsy.
"This is so boring," Mammon thought to himself, until Haniya led him to a familiar-looking plaza.
This was near the exit of the Fourth Heaven's teleportation array—the very spot where he had tumbled out.
Upon seeing this familiar location, he grew visibly agitated.
"Just how long do you intend to keep me bound?"
With a *whoosh*, Haniya drew a sword that gleamed with a cold, steely light, causing Mammon to flinch.
"You..." Surely he hadn't finally lost his patience and decided to strike now, had he?
He secretly gathered his strength, his internal alarm reaching a critical threshold.
Unexpectedly, however, Haniya merely glanced at him while holding the sword and said, "I have no intention of making things difficult for you—at least, not until you are willing to reveal Heaven's true objective."
Having said that, he paid Mammon no further mind and proceeded to practice his swordsmanship against the empty air. Mammon watched him for a while before slowly realizing that the angel was, in fact, training.
No wonder he had managed to capture me; it seems this plaza serves as the angels' training ground.
He paced back and forth within the limited range of his bindings, beads of sweat trickling down his temples. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he shouted in Haniya's direction:
"Hey! Can't you find me some shade? I'm going to melt!" His behavior was so petulant and unreasonable that he hardly resembled a prisoner; rather, he acted like a pampered lord.
Haniya actually obliged, setting up a small canopy for him so he could sit in the shade.
The treatment he received was so exceptionally good that the only thing missing was a glass of fine Hellish vintage.
What on earth was going on here?!
Mammon inwardly cursed his rotten luck on this trip—to have run into such an enigmatic and troublesome angel. He sat there spacing out for a while; utterly bored, he eventually resigned himself to simply watching Haniya practice his swordsmanship.
To be honest, it was quite a feast for the eyes. Even while wielding a gleaming sword heavy with the aura of slaughter, the angel's movements remained as beautiful as a dance.
Mammon curled his lip; it was nothing but empty posturing.
"If it came to a real fight, I could take him down with just one hand."
He recalled the perfect fusion of power and grace that Lucifer had demonstrated while mentoring him—*that* was true swordsmanship.
Haniya heard his words, sheathed his sword, and flew to hover directly before him.
"Are you serious?"
"Naturally. Release me, and let's have a proper duel—let's see once and for all whether demons or angels are truly the superior force," Mammon proposed.
"I do not trust you, nor do I believe the outcome of such a match holds much significance. Furthermore, if you truly possess such earth-shattering power as you claim, why did you not simply break free of my restraints sooner?" Haniya smiled faintly. "However, the confidence I see in your eyes does pique my curiosity."
"If a duel is what you desire, there is no need for me to release you." Haniya silently recited an incantation, and the ropes binding Mammon vanished from sight.
The demon rubbed his wrists, grumbling in annoyance: "Now *that's* much better. Why did you have to go and tie me up in the first place?"
"No sorcery—swordsmanship alone," Haniya said, making a polite gesture of invitation before tossing the sword he held in his hand over to Mammon.
Just as their duel was about to begin, another angel came rushing past. As if completely blind to his surroundings, the angel slammed right into Mammon before fleeing the scene.
"You angels here certainly are a polite bunch," Mammon remarked with a fake smile as he clambered back to his feet.
Haniya paid him no mind; his gaze was fixed solely upon the angel with the ash-gray wings, and his brow furrowed in concern.
He bound Mammon once again—restraining him completely—then conjured a blade of pure light and took flight in pursuit.
Mammon lay sprawled on the plaza floor like a dead fish. After a brief two-second pause, he spat a small slip of paper from his mouth. The other angel had slipped it into his hand as they brushed past one another; just to be safe, Mammon had immediately popped it into his mouth.
It was fortunate he had done so; there was no longer any point in lingering here.
He read the words written on the slip of paper, and his bound form dissolved into a swirling mist of black smoke. In the Sphere of Mars, Gabriel returned with Lilith in tow; suddenly, the alarm bells of the Seventh Heaven began to toll long and loud. She had no choice but to temporarily confine the fallen angel within the Angelic Prison.
"What happened?" she asked as she stepped into the Palace of the Seraphim—a place where nearly all the Archangels were already gathered.
"The *Book of Heaven*, hidden within the Angelic Academy's library, has gone missing," Michael replied.
Gabriel started in surprise, then immediately turned her gaze toward the presiding angel of the Third Heaven—the very one who had compiled the book.
Raziel sat there, looking utterly distraught.
"Impossible! I've already captured Lilith—" Gabriel began, before the realization struck her. "Are there *other* invaders from Hell?"
"Haniel allowed a demon to escape in the Fourth Heaven," Michael said, rubbing his temples as he surmised that this demon must be the thief.
"It wasn't him," Metatron declared as he stepped into the hall from outside, with Haniel following close behind.
"How do you know?"
"After you departed, the demon remained in my presence the entire time; he had no opportunity to commit the theft," Haniel spoke up.
Michael narrowed his eyes. "Are you lying to me?"
"I am not lying to you; he *did* indeed escape back then," Haniel explained. "I used my magical bandages to force him to reveal his true form."
"Then where is he now?"
"He got away," Haniel replied. He could still sense that the ropes and magical bandages were active, yet their captive was no longer there.
He had never imagined the demon possessed such capabilities; clearly, this was no ordinary fiend.
"Look at the mess you've made!" Michael fumed. "I told you how cunning demons are! I told you that if you caught one, you were to hand it over to me immediately!"
"Haniel allowed the demon to escape only because he was in pursuit of an angel who was behaving erratically," Metatron interjected, cutting short Michael's pointless outburst.
"The actual thief was an angel with gray wings; the fault lies with us."
Upon hearing this, Raziel could bear it no longer. He rose to his feet and, with a dazed expression, walked slowly out of the hall.
"Why would someone steal my book...?"
The other angels watched him depart; moments later, they sensed the activation of the teleportation circle leading to the Crystal Heaven, realizing that he had gone to seek an audience with God. "Perhaps it is for the best that the book was stolen," Gabriel remarked.
"Indeed. Judging by Raziel's demeanor, he was teetering on the brink of spiritual deviation," Michael said, his earlier fury having completely dissipated; he rubbed his nose, then clasped his hands behind his head in a relaxed, leisurely pose.
"Lord Raziel spends his days buried in the task of compiling the *Book of Heaven*; the frenzied look in his eyes is far more terrifying than even the training sessions of our Thrones," Uriel grumbled.
"The Lord will surely provide him with the answers he seeks," Raphael smiled gently. Heaven existed under God's divine protection; if any event were to transpire within its bounds, it could only be by God's express permission.
"Be that as it may, we cannot simply sit idly by," Metatron stated, preparing to dispatch a contingent of angels to the mortal realm to search for the whereabouts of the stolen book.
Haniya remained utterly oblivious to the thoughts swirling within the minds of the veteran angels, though he did find it curious that everyone's attitude seemed to have shifted ever so subtly the moment Raziel had departed.
"Let me go down," he volunteered eagerly. "I had a brief encounter with that angel; I am certain I can track him down."
Metatron regarded him with a cool, dispassionate gaze—his eyes resting upon that face.
"You cannot go down."
"Why?" Haniya gripped the Light-blade in his hand tightly. "Were it not for this restrictive barrier, I surely would have captured that gray-winged angel already—"
He had been but a single step away—yet the fugitive had managed to slip out of Heaven just moments before he could strike!
"Why am I forbidden from doing anything? Why must I remain forever bound within the confines of Heaven?"
What lay down below?
What exactly was it that he was forbidden to see?
"You are a newly ascended angel. Although God has bestowed upon you the title of Seraph, you have yet to undergo formal training. The mortal realm is not like Heaven; it is fraught with peril, and you lack the necessary experience," Michael said, attempting to soothe him upon seeing the genuine frustration in his eyes.
"Edna was permitted to go down, and she holds merely the rank of Vice-Regent of the Powers; I, however, am the Chief of the Solar Host!" Haniya retorted indignantly.
"All reassignments of angelic duties are determined solely by God's divine judgment. Do you have any further objections?"
The implication was clear: if you have a grievance, take it up with God.
Haniya fell silent. He feared nothing in all of creation—save for the aloof, enigmatic Deity dwelling within the Ninth Heaven.
*Fine, I'll go ask Him!* He gritted his teeth, overcoming an indescribable tremor within his heart, and spoke with firm resolve.
In the Crystal Heaven, Raziel poured out his grievances to God regarding the loss of the *Book of Heaven*.
"Was it an angel who did this?" he asked God.
"It was an angel," God replied indifferently from His seat of honor.
"But why would an angel wish to steal it...?"
God gazed down at Raziel, who knelt before Him, and sighed silently.
In the beginning, the *Book of Heaven* was nothing more than a book—utterly blank within.
His sole purpose in bestowing it upon Raziel was to offer guidance whenever the angel found himself in perplexity.
Only when Raziel sought an answer would the Divine Will coalesce into written words upon its pages.
It was, in truth, merely a product of God's own indolence; yet, through the sheer, unyielding determination of Raziel, it gradually began to transform.
*I will make it the greatest book in all of Heaven.*
Raziel's obsession reshaped it; imperceptibly, its contents grew ever richer, transcending the casual function God had originally assigned it to become, in every sense of the word, the true *Book of Heaven*.
And thus, it drew the covetous gaze of others.
Lucifer—then in the throes of rebellion—had once cast a disdainful eye upon it; yet now, he had set his sights upon it once again.
God lowered His gaze slightly. Lucifer knew that the innermost thoughts of all creation lay within God's grasp; therefore, he had used Mammon and Lilith as bait—keeping them unwitting of their role—intending to divert God's attention through a grand, ostentatious diversion.
And indeed, having been drawn away by the affair involving Mammon, God had inadvertently relaxed His vigilance over Heaven.
Time alters hearts; even within Heaven, there remained angels who secretly served Lucifer.
He had been outmaneuvered.
Although the book would ultimately find its way to the mortal realm—precisely as He had foreseen—the actual process had deviated slightly from His calculations.
God contemplated this with detached indifference. Though He had been outmaneuvered for the very first time, no trace of vexation appeared upon His face; instead, He simply addressed Raziel:
"The book now resides in the mortal realm; that, too, is its destiny."
To record the past of the mortal realm, to chronicle its present, and to foretell its future—though it could not rival the *Book of Genesis*, it represented the absolute zenith of what a created being could ever hope to master. "Once it has fulfilled its destined purpose, it shall naturally return to Heaven."
God's words brought comfort to Raziel; yet, seeing that the angel remained in a daze—his spirit still seemingly adrift—He continued speaking:
"However, there remain certain variables in this matter; it may require you to make a journey."
God apprised Raziel of the recent stirrings within Hell, instructing him to descend to the mortal realm and convey a prophetic dream to Adam, thereby alerting humanity to the impending arrival of a great catastrophe.
Hearing that there was still hope of recovering his lost book, Raziel accepted the command with delight. Just as he was about to take his leave, a further instruction issued from the Throne above:
"Furthermore, a seventh-generation descendant of Adam has recently been born—a child named Enoch. You are to watch over him, ensuring that he does not venture into the lands to the East."
"As You command. Raziel obeys Your will."
*This ought to help him break free from his obsession with the book,* God thought to Himself, watching as Raziel respectfully withdrew. Then, He turned His gaze toward a corner of the chamber.
"Come out, Haniya."
The golden-haired angel—having been discovered and called out barely moments after his arrival—emerged with a sheepish, awkward air.
Gazing upon the angel's features—which bore a striking resemblance to Lucifer's—God beckoned him forward and asked gently:
"What troubles you this time?"
Haniya tossed his blade of light aside—he was the only angel audacious enough to bring a weapon into the Great Cathedral—and, looking as though he had suffered some grave injustice, threw himself into God's embrace.
For some inexplicable reason—perhaps due to the unfathomable nature of Divine Majesty—Haniya could never quite bring himself to feel a true sense of intimacy with God, despite the Lord's unfailing gentleness toward him.
It was only when he drew close enough that the blinding Holy Light faded from his vision that his heart could finally find its peace.
God listened to the thoughts swirling within Haniya's mind, yet His expression remained unchanged.
Haniya, it seemed, harbored a fundamental misunderstanding of the word *intimacy*.
If *this*—this very moment—did not constitute intimacy, then what possibly could?
God allowed the angel to lean against Him, waiting until the turmoil within his heart had gradually subsided beneath the surging power of the Divine Light; only then did He gently tap the angel upon the head.
Haniya looked up, his face flushing with embarrassment. A teardrop—hard as diamond—traced a path down God's robe, which was embroidered with intricate silver patterns, before coming to rest in the palm of God's hand.
"Could You... could You cure me of this affliction—this constant weeping of my eyes?" he asked God. "But I didn't want to cry at all!"
"Your emotions have always been more delicate than those of ordinary angels," God replied, though He offered no explanation as to why this was so.
Haniya didn't dwell on that point; after all, every angel created by God's own hand possessed a unique personality. Instead, he continued his grievance:
"You bestowed upon me the title 'God's Beauty,' yet everyone insists on calling me 'God's Tears'!"
"Whether 'God's Beauty' or 'God's Tears'—what does it matter?" God gazed at Haniya. He possessed a countenance identical to Lucifer's, yet he bore a youthfulness and innocence that Lucifer had never known.
As Heaven had evolved over the ages, the younger angels were no longer like those of the primordial era—forced to mature prematurely, born with innate knowledge thrust upon them.
They now had ample time to grow at their own pace, unburdened by earth-shattering responsibilities or overwhelming pressures—much like flowers nurtured within a greenhouse.
A sense of blissful tranquility filled their hearts at every moment; their fervor and benevolence would never fade.
This was a privilege that the Seraphim of old had never been granted.
Gazing upon him, one could almost glimpse a version of Lucifer who had taken a different path—a path of alternate possibilities.
But such a reality was impossible. God gently stroked the golden-haired angel's head, offering an answer to the true doubts stirring within his heart.
"You are Haniya. From the very moment of your birth, you have been utterly unique."
Even though he had been formed from a single tear shed by Lucifer, he remained an angel possessed of his own distinct consciousness.
A rare glint of tender warmth softened God's golden eyes. He transformed the diamond—which shimmered with the hues of a sunset—into a pendant, then placed the necklace around Haniya's neck.
"May tears ever be your companions, and righteousness your guardian of peace."
Upon hearing God bestow this blessing upon him, Haniya completely forgot about the ailment he had originally come to have cured. He nuzzled his head against the divine palm resting above him, his heart filled with utter contentment.
"I know."
Haniya was simply Haniya—not a substitute for any other angel.
Having affirmed this truth, he lost all further interest in the Lower Realm.
[Hebrew Mythology] The Arduous History of a World's Upbringing — by Dan Mu'ai