“I’m fine…” The sandbag angel climbed up from the ground, swaying as he tried to find his footing. “I’ll do it.”
“Iophiel, are you sure you’re okay?” Raphael was concerned.
“I’m great. I can manage,” Iophiel replied, clearly trying hard to steady his nerves. “We can begin.”
Although his rank wasn’t high, being one of Metatron’s attendants gave him a composure and refinement that many nouveau-riche angels sorely lacked. He didn’t even show the slightest disdain toward a lowly Power like me, which honestly made me feel a bit guilty.
I exhaled and went back to him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you that hard.”
“No worries, it’s my job,” he waved his hand, much more relaxed now.
“Just to confirm—the performance has a maximum time of ten minutes, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then please start the time now, Lady Gabriel.” After seeing her nod, I turned back to Iophiel. “I’ve studied performance before, and I have a habit of getting to know my scene partner a bit before we begin. Would you mind if we talked for a few minutes first?”
“No, of course not.”
“Perfect.” I leaned on my hand. “So how did you and Lord Metatron meet?”
“Oh wow… that goes way back,” Iophiel perked up. “I was around three hundred and forty at the time, still living with my parents in the First Heaven. The demons were particularly aggressive back then and our forces were stretched thin. They split into two groups, one went straight for the Gates of Heaven while the other attacked our little town. We lived in the slums, in First Heaven, so no troops were dispatched to help us. But Lord Metatron heard about it and personally led a battalion to drive them off, and even stayed for a few days. We received a massive donation after he left too, out of his own pockets. That was the moment I decided that I would serve him one day, no matter what.”
I was a little surprised. Metatron didn’t seem like the type. But before the feeling had even settled, his voice came lazily from above:
“My money’s always been endless. What I gave you all wouldn’t even buy me a shirt. Iophiel, since when did you get so chatty? Hurry up and start.”
“That’s absolutely not true!” Iophiel lifted his head and looked straight towards Metatron. “Your Highness always acts like you don’t care about anything, but in truth, you’re kinder than anyone I’ve ever known. That’s why I’ve followed you all this time. Whether you admit it or not, to me, you’ll always be the greatest of the archangels!”
After that heartfelt little outburst, I felt a sudden urge to knock him out again.
Still… this kind of loyalty could be very useful.
I smiled. “It’s obvious—you really admire him.”
“Yes, I do!”
“Then what do you think of me?”
“His Highness is very fond of you.”
……
Whether it was because Metatron meant the world to him or because Isar meant absolutely nothing, I couldn’t even be mad. I was too baffled to speak.
As for Metatron, he clearly had no words either. He’d already retreated into the carriage and hadn’t shown his face since.
I said to him, “Then tell me. Should I believe everything Metatron says to me?”
“Of course!”
“Well,” I continued, “We’ve actually talked about you before. Or someone like you.” I noticed Iophiel’s ears perk up instantly and smiled. “Of course, I’m not sure if it was you. But he once mentioned that some poor kid he handed charity to ended up being such an annoyance. If he’d known the brat would turn out this stupid, he’d have razed the whole town to save himself the trouble.”
Iophiel’s face went ghost-white.
“…You’re lying. I don’t believe you.”
“He might not have been talking about you though,” I said. “Oh, but he did add—if it weren’t for that dumb kid always defending him, helping him win back some of the public’s trust, there’s no way he’d keep someone like that around.”
I shrugged, palms up.
“No,” Iophiel panicked. His gaze shot toward Metatron’s carriage. “My Lord… was any of that true?”
Metatron, of course, remained tucked away inside the carriage, silent.
Iophiel glanced around, as if his very presence were a burden to the air. Shoulders trembling, he took a few uneasy steps back and looked helplessly toward Gabriel and Raphael.
I gave him a hard shove from behind. He was already on the edge so it didn’t take much to send him crashing to the ground. Then I drew the longsword I’d prepared in advance and pointed it straight at him.
A collective gasp spread through the crowd. For a moment, all was still.
Iophiel’s eyes welled up with tears so large they rolled down his cheeks unchecked.
“Just kill me…” he whispered.
“Alright, it’s your idea.”
I raised a brow lazily, a cold, detached smile. The sword rose high—then plunged straight toward his chest.
Even Raphael took an involuntary step forward.
But the blade halted, one centimeter from Iophiel’s heart.
I turned to the archangels.
“That should be enough, right?”
Gabriel blinked. “Y-Yes. That’s enough.”
I dropped to my knees beside Iophiel.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, voice full of contrition. “I didn’t realize you cared that much about Metatron…”
Iophiel’s face froze mid-expression, though the tears kept falling.
Metatron poked his head out from the carriage and drawled, “Little Isar, I just sacrificed my reputation for the sake of your scene. How are you planning to repay me?”
“So that’s what this was about.” Raphael chuckled awkwardly. “Short performance, minimal expressions, but that final stroke did bring it together.”
Gabriel snapped out of it, frowning. “No. We can’t give him the role. No matter how good the performance was, deception is unacceptable.”
Just then, that gloved hand emerged again from the luxurious carriage, white, poised, and pointed at me.
Metatron paused, visibly surprised, then scratched his chin as he turned back toward us. “Isar, Lord Lucifer says… he wants you. For the role.”
I puffed up with righteous indignation. “You can criticize me all you like, but that’s what real demons are like for me. Always there to strike when you’re weakest—wait. Wait. Which lord?”
Lucifer was the one up there?
I had the sudden, overwhelming urge again, to launch myself and crash the damn carriage.
“You’re still missing the point,” Raphael muttered, holding his forehead.
“But rehearsals are on the Sixth Heaven, and he only has two wings…” Metatron trailed off mid-sentence, then looked down at me. “Are you an angel of prayer or of war now?”
“Prayer,” I answered absentmindedly.
Metatron glanced at Lucifer, then relayed, “His Highness says you’ll be temporarily transferred to the Academy of Divine Law. After the performance, your placement will be reconsidered.”
I tried to sound casual. “May I ask His Highness, how long until Creation Day?”
A few angels turned to eye me, clearly suspicious despite my efforts to sound natural.
Metatron replied on Lucifer’s behalf: “January 1st. Can’t you do basic math, little Isar?”
I turned to Caro. “What day is it today?”
“Year 8731 of Yahweh’s Calendar, Berduth 6898, January 2nd.”
I blinked. “January 2nd? Then hasn’t it already passed?”
Caro answered, “No. Creation Day only comes when the year hits 6900 exactly.”
Still two years left. Two years for a stage play. Do angels just stop seeing time as real because they live for so long?
I looked up. “I’d like to meet with Lord Lucifer. Is that allowed?”
“To meet Lord Lucifer,” Metatron said, stroking his chin with a cryptic smile, “first you’ll need to level up your wings to four, and turn them gold. And mind you—it has to be a gift from God. If it’s fake and you fly too much, they’ll snap. And once they snap, you won’t be a winged messenger anymore.”
He paused, lips curled.
“You’d be a broken messenger.”
“……”
The four gryphons turned in unison, the carriage wheeling around and soaring back into the sky. Caro yanked me down into a crouch again. I felt like a hundred steel needles were jabbing into my back. I peeked around cautiously. No one was looking at me. In fact, it was like they had all silently agreed to turn away at the same time.
This wasn’t good. I’d just said I wanted to speak to Lucifer… what if they thought I was back to my old obsession? Even Caro was giving me a look that was just a little off.
“Hey, don’t get the wrong idea,” I nudged him. “I need to talk to Lucifer about something important. That’s all. Nothing else.”
“My dear Isar, you’re turning into quite the actor,” Caro muttered.
I was about to defend myself when Iophiel came over, rubbing his nose a little awkwardly. “You really scared me back there. But your performance was…pretty impressive.”
He was the first six-winged angel to treat me this kindly. Part of me was touched.
“Actually, Lord Metatron never meant to make things hard for you. But… you really shouldn’t have said that in front of him. I’ve followed him for over three thousand berduths, and I’ve never seen him frown until that day. He was truly angry…”
“What?”
Iophiel pressed his lips together, choosing his words carefully:
“To most angels, the title of Seraphim is something they wouldn’t even dare to dream of. There are only a few hundred golden six-wings among the billions in all of Heaven. Even God Himself is cautious when creating them, let alone appointing one of the Seven Great Archangels who stand by His side… Everyone’s heard of Lord Metatron’s romances. For most, just kissing the tip of his boot would be an honor. But you… sigh. Some things just aren’t meant to be. Why chase the impossible…?”
Caro shot me another sideways glance.
Why did I feel more and more lost the longer I listened?
“What do you mean, ‘impossible’?”
“I mean… if you wanted to patch things up with Lord Metatron now, he’d probably agree.”
“No way.”
“Then how about I talk to him, get him to reach out to you?”
“No way.”
“Well, suit yourself. But I’ll say it again: you don’t have to interact with Lord Metatron, but you’d better stop trying to get close to Lord Lucifer.”
“No way.” I froze. “Wait, what did you just say?”
Before Iophiel could answer, a voice drifted in from behind, so soft it made spring breezes seem coarse.
“If I’m not mistaken, your name is Caro, isn’t it?” said Raphael.
Caro nodded so hard it looked like his neck was spring-loaded.
Raphael smiled. “Would you like to attend the Academy of Divine Law?”
“Yes, yes!” Caro nodded even harder, a pecking chick. Then he stomped on my foot and added, “Isar wants to go too.”
Before I could even process what was happening, I somehow ended up on the luxury express chariot, cutting straight through the Fifth Heaven and arriving at the stronghold of the Cherubim, the Sixth Heaven’s capital, Shima.
The sky above glittered with stars, but Shima itself was a realm of light. Snow-white buildings filled the city: pillared halls, square towers, bell towers, fountains, and exquisitely crafted streetlamps. Trees framed the houses in neat symmetry. It couldn’t have been more different from the bustling splendor of Jerusalem. If Jerusalem was the fairytale city, then Shima, nicknamed the City of Ideals, was something closer to paradise.
The city gates resembled a triumphal arch, only purer in color, stark white. At its peak hung a massive silver bell, said to be the proper way to summon angels.
The carriage glided downward from the sky and came to a stop in front of a snow-white building trimmed with gold. Outside the window, a line of quaint little villas floated among the clouds.
Raphael handed me a string of bronze keys and a rolled-up piece of parchment. “This is the key to your room and a map of the Sixth Heaven. Tomorrow afternoon, meet by Lake Saiah. We’ll figure out the rehearsal schedule then.”
The key was antique bronze, set with a small blue gem.
Caro kept nudging my hand. “Isar, Lord Raphael’s talking to you. What are you spacing out for?”
“Sorry… It’s just… it’s beautiful here.”
Raphael smiled. “Shima has many scenic locations. You can explore them one by one. Just don’t venture near the borders since wild gryphons roam out there. Oh, and Caro, would you check if all the keys work?”
Caro cheerfully answered and snatched the keys from my hand, dashing off like a wind-up bird.
As soon as he left, a gust of cold wind swept through, sending shivers up my bare legs. I silently cursed whoever designed angel uniforms. What kind of genius thinks this counts as proper coverage? But one look at Raphael’s elegant snowy robes, and I got the picture. This was about rank after all.
Just then, Raphael poked his head through the curtain and smiled. “Isar, I just realized something.”
“Go on.”
“You’re unexpectedly open-minded. Such a good match for Metatron, the two of you together is so… interesting.”
“What are you trying to get at?”
“Doesn’t it bother you, the way people treat you?”
“Why would it? It’s not like they’re my wife.”
“So you’re saying—if they were your wife, you’d care?”
“Let’s drop this. I’m officially done with women.”
Raphael tilted his head, those carnelian-like eyes positively sparkling. “I understand.”
Understand? Understand what, exactly?
I glanced at the little house, its lights flickering on and off inside like someone testing the switches. “Alright, it’s freezing. I’m heading in.”
Raphael’s eyes curved gently as he waved. “See you.”
After all that back-and-forth, I had to admit, he really wasn’t as annoying as I thought at first. Sure, he’s got the soft, gentle vibe of an overly polite lady, but the guy’s got a good heart. Didn’t act high and mighty once. He even dropped off two nobodies like me and Caro after escorting Gabriel. Now that’s a good person.
After stepping inside, I found Caro rubbing his nose. “Starting tomorrow, we’re going to the Divine Law Academy! I’ll get to see Lord Raphael all the time!”
I yawned. Turns out the lights in this place weren’t really lights. Wherever you walked, the ceiling above you would light up. The roof was made of Heavenly ore which glowed in response to a celestial being’s presence. It even shuts off automatically when you sleep.
I unrolled the map and took a glance. There was a block of text in the middle I hadn’t paid attention to. Oddly, no “Divine Law Academy” labeled anywhere. So I asked Caro. He pointed at that chunk of text. It read:
“The Heavenly Kingdom’s Lord’s Official Institution for the Direct Transmission of Magical Manipulation, Invocation, and Blessing Arts to Authorized Angels of Prayer.”
“…The hell is this?”
“The full name of the Divine Law Academy.”
“…Who named it?”
“Lord Metatron.”
…Why was I not surprised?
The next day.
Carrying the map, Caro and I made our way through the serene yet refined city of Shima toward the Divine Law Academy.
Just as people had said, beyond the Fifth Heaven lies a whole different world. Jerusalem might have been a chaotic mix, but high-ranking angels were still rare there, just the occasional Throne passing by would turn heads. But in Shima? Thrones were nothing. Even the blue six-winged Intelligences were just part of the background. Because few could afford to the rent in the Imperial Capital of Sancta Faylea, working angels of the upper spheres made their homes here instead.
A white four-wing – That’d be either someone sweeping the streets or hauling boxes, or a tourist clutching a camera, gawking and snapping pictures. Caro and I felt so out of place, we wanted to swallow our wings whole.
Normally, even though flying gets us places fast, our wings inevitably get sore after a while. But the endurance and speed of high-ranking angels are honestly baffling. In Shima, the streets are always nearly deserted, aside from the occasional shopping or al fresco dining, most angels dont’t walk. The ground is constantly swept with the shadows of massive wings zipping by at ridiculous speeds, like everyone’s got some kind of divine Duracell battery strapped on, soaring nonstop, no rest needed.
What really crushed our spirits, though, were the upperclassmen selling secondhand books in front of the academy.
Since the administration had cracked down on loitering near the gates, thrifty upperclassmen who wanted to resell their used textbooks had to improvise. They perched lazily next to floating silver trays loaded with books, hovering midair above the entrance. Legs tucked in, wings flapping just enough to stay aloft, some of them passed the time reading novels or poetry. When their top pair of wings got tired, they’d switch to the second set. When the second set gave out, they’d switch to the third. If all three sets were exhausted, they’d just slump down on the tray, wings drooping, yawning into the void.
Still, apparently flapping and lounging were practically interchangeable for them, so this breed of bored angel was thankfully rare.
When Caro and I saw the whole scene, we both fell speechless for a beat, then walked into the academy as if muted.
A secluded district of its own came into view. At its heart stood three grand castles, each one accessible only by passing beneath towering gates, then crossing three arched bridges made of white marble. Beneath the bridges drifted a veil of translucent clouds, just thin enough to glimpse the Fifth Heaven below, where the souls of fallen martyrs wandered along the borderlands. Along the castle flanks, several tall spires rose, guarded by vigilant gryphons and patrolling divine sentinels.
So far, nothing about the place felt like a school.
The students inside didn’t carry themselves like they were attending one either. Whether their spellwork was properly mastered, whether they had the Three-Realms History memorized front to back, or whether their attendance was perfect, none of it seemed to matter.
As Caro and I made our way in, the only things we overheard were:
“Lady Gabriel once praised me for being diligent, so I’ve kept at it ever since.”
“My brother’s girlfriend’s uncle used to serve under Lord Uriel. I even have a signed copy of his book.”
“Jesus said I looked especially devout.”
“Lord Metatron’s jokes? Hilarious.”
“Thirteen years ago, I made the mistake of looking Lord Lucifer in the eye.”
Hearing that final line, I finally lost it. “Lucifer just—wait, what the he—mmph!”
Caro slapped a hand over my mouth. “The closer you get to the Sanctum, the more careful you need to be about what you say. One careless word, and it’s bye-bye wings, hello exile beyond the First Heaven.”
Then he dragged me across the vast green lawn toward our designated building.
I looked up at the towering white spire in front of me and said, word by word, “This is the…History Tower?”
“Don’t let it being a ‘tower’ fool you,” Caro added. “The top floor is where they teach the History of the Three Realms for Ninth-Tier Angelics. The back door leads straight into the Sanctum. Only archangels graduate from there. It’s taught personally by the Lord Jesus Himself.”
Taught history by Jesus Himself. No wonder all the angels here carry themselves like they’re Heaven’s gift to creation.
Our classroom was somewhere inside the tower, and by the time we made it, after climbing what felt like an endless spiral staircase, we were both dizzy and winded. That’s when we realized how dumb we were: the other angels had just flown in directly from outside.
The classroom was circular, with a round pool in the center. A ring of four-winged angels sat around it, while up near the top right, a Throne professor flapped gently in place, lecturing into the pool.
Caro and I tucked in our wings, clenched our butts, and tiptoed over to take a seat.
The surface of the round pool shimmered like a mirror, casting the reflection of six wings of light, like six sleeping dragons coiled beneath a still lake. As the professor spoke, gentle ripples stirred the water, and the wings in the reflection seemed almost alive.
“Lucifer is God’s most favored angel,” the professor intoned, “and the most powerful among all. God once said he would be the first and the last of the Seraphic Wings of Radiance. And so, this sigil shall forever belong to Lord Lucifer alone.”
Maybe others didn’t pick up on the tone. But knowing how things ended, I could hear it. God had planted this as a safeguard against rebellion. Lucifer was the last Seraphic Wings of Radiance. But in the end, he still turned.
At that moment, a twisted string of letters emerged on the surface of the water:
The Divine Codex.
“The most accomplished book in all of Heaven—The Divine Codex,” the professor said, tapping the water’s surface.
Countless volumes bearing that title rose from the pool, each edition with different colors and bindings.
“The Divine Codex was compiled over four thousand berduths ago by Lord Lucifer himself, and it has endured ever since. It is the longest-preserved and most comprehensive work in Celestial History. Within its pages lie the laws of creation, the deeds of God and the angels, traditional customs and festivals, origin tales, and a full breakdown of the Seven Heavens and the Nine Ranks…”
I pressed my temples. Headache.
“What’s a Berduth again?”
Caro replied, “I don’t remember the exact number, but roughly… 2.29 million years.”
Ah, so that’s what it meant.
…
2.29 million years?!
Lucifer still wasn’t dead yet?!
But… why 2.29 million years?
Then it hit me: it’s currently the 8731th Berduth. Multiply 2.29 million by 8731… and you get roughly 20 billion. 20 billion years, basically the age of the universe?
So that’s it. The Heavenly calendar, the Yahweh Reckoning, is calculated from the moment of the Big Bang……
What followed was roughly two hours of nonstop lecture, the professor droning on and on until finally wrapping up with a grand conclusion:
“The Divine Codex is the symbol of our realm—an immortal chapter in our glorious history. That will be all for today.”
At that point I opened my eyes, wiped a bit of drool off, and sat up straight from where I’d been slumped against Caro’s shoulder.
Author: Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
~
