Part V: Book of Michael
God is not unjust—He is merely preparing, so that right after you have wept, grown weary, and had your heart broken, He will gift you perfection. – Michael
“Where’s Lord Lucifer?”
“No idea. He was just here a moment ago, but now there’s only a single feather here. Though come to think of it, the color of His Highness’ feathers really is so mysterious.”
“Sariel, could you stop looking at the feather with that expression? Honestly, your eye color is just as fascinating to me. But anyway, how can we not find Lord Lucifer at his own private banquet? All of you, move aside—I’ll go find him myself! Ah—what are you standing here for? You scared me half to death.”
“Well, good morning, you stunning beauty who’s never had a man. You and Sariel, please stand over there and toss that feather over there. You know, it’s really hot today—if you leave a feather out in the sun, it won’t stay a feather for long. It’ll become a fire-fuzz.”
“Lord Lucifer hardly ever sheds feathers in his adult form. Might as well sell this one. It’d be more worthwhile. After all, in First and Second Heaven, there are countless poor children suffering famine every day.”
“Raphael, when your heart overflows with too much love, your face starts to look more and more like a peach, aha.”
“Lord Metatron, is it that you simply don’t know how to speak like a normal person?”
“Haha, Azazel’s mad again. Come on, everyone, play nice. I’ll go find His Highness right away…”
“Samael, don’t bother. He’s definitely with Isar. Those two stick together twenty-four hours a day.”
“Hey—wait a second, don’t talk nonsense! How could he be with me?” I flapped my wings behind the shrubbery outside the window, getting ready to fly over and explain. “It’s not like we’re together all twenty-four—”
Before I could finish the sentence, a pair of arms suddenly wrapped around my waist from behind. Then, light as a feather, kisses began to fall on my earlobe and the side of my neck.
I heard the sound of holy spring water gushing, like sapphires shattering beneath the stars. I saw a hazy mist covering the imperial capital, like golden light flooding into the depths of a magnificent ravine. I heard the roar of a gryphon, more piercing than seabirds’ cries, like the banners of heaven being torn to shreds, one by one. I witnessed the language of golden roses, their fragrance lingering like migratory birds, waiting for a dream to bloom.
In this world ablaze with brilliance, everything radiated a beauty so perfect it felt cold. Yet, my lover’s gentle words, his whispers, were what finally stole my breath away.
It was the Archangel Commander’s murmur. As he left kisses on my skin, he whispered low in my ear,
“Isn’t that right though? I’m always stuck to you… you…little dummy…”
His breath was deep and blurred, reduced to a thick nasal hum, so sweet that I didn’t even catch what adjective he used before “little dummy.”
“Who… are you?”
“You don’t even know who I am anymore?” he tightened his hold on me. “Tell me—who am I?”
I couldn’t say it. I don’t know why. It all felt so distant that it frightened me.
“Say it—say my name.”
“Lu…” I hesitated, then finally whispered the name in a trembling voice. “…Lucifer.”
And with that, the dream ended.
When I opened my eyes again, the feel of feathers covering me was the first thing that reawakened my senses. Even with my eyes still heavily shut, the brilliance of Heaven’s light could not be hidden. It was a familiar sensation: I had returned to my angelic body, calmer and warmer than the demon form.
But I don’t know how long it had been. After I flew back to Heaven, I was so exhausted that I collapsed in the mists just outside the First Heaven. This body of mine had been frozen in polar ice temperature in the Demon Realm for millennia, like a sick eagle staring longingly at the vast skies it could no longer reach. And so I fell into slumber.
What followed were countless dreams—of the past, of memories, of radiance, of the divine race, of Lucifer.
In the early days after Lucifer’s fall, waking from such dreams would leave my face streaked with tears.
But right now, I didn’t even furrow my brow.
How to describe this feeling?
I suppose it was simply… complete unfamiliarity.
If not for this dream’s reminder, I might have completely forgotten that I was once in such passionate love with him. When I was a Caprid and saw him with Sidis, I still felt pain, sharp and raw. But it had vanished without a trace now.
Now, squinting up at the sky, I could feel the sunlight, vivid and warm, and the fresh breeze gently rustling my feathers. It was a feeling I had longed for. This state of relaxed muscles, emotions quiet as still water…
The body of the divine race really is extraordinary.
Moreover, after the long period of rest just now, my wings had regained their strength. As I flew toward Saint Faylia, the young angels all cast curious glances at me—then, as if suddenly recalling the face of the Archangel from their history books, they began rubbing their eyes furiously. The older generation of angels looked as if they had seen a ghost, frantically calling out in panic and drawing crowds of onlookers. But next to Lucifer, the one with the fastest flying speed in all of Heaven had always been me, so before they could even blink, I was already gone, and they took what they’d seen to be a mirage. It seemed the demons had done a good job keeping secrets; they hadn’t spread word of my return to Heaven.
Eager to see my former residence, I headed straight for Saint Faylia. At that time, news of my return hadn’t yet reached Jerusalem.
So when I appeared in Saint Faylia and was seen by a few seraphim, their astonishment was no less than that of the lower angels. It was evening in Heaven by then, though in the City That Knows No Night, darkness does not exist. Summoned by God, I immediately went to the Sanctum.
No matter how many years had passed, and even though the decor of Saint Faylia’s buildings had changed, the inner structure of the Sanctum remained untouched. The hall was filled with drifting clouds; God sat on the lofty throne, like a giant ascending from white mountain peaks, casting a peerless gaze of over time and the world below. And no one could tell what He was thinking, not even me, once a part of Him. Because now, God was the Heavens and the Earth itself, the wholly incomprehensible laws of the universe.
Hovering at His feet were the Keeper of Sacred Relics and the Divine Steward. The Keeper held a great long coffer, mysterious. I flew to the center of the hall, then walked on foot to kneel before Him.
“Father God,” I said.
“Welcome back, my child,” God’s voice echoed through the Sanctum. “You have endured much on this journey.”
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want,” I lowered my head and replied.
“Now that you’ve returned, the task of protecting Heaven falls once more to you. Are you ready?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Very well. I have something to give you.”
He lifted His hand slightly. The Keeper of Sacred Relics, as if with eyes on his back, received the silent command, descended the steps, and opened the long coffer in his hands.
At once, a mass of silver light slowly floated upward, so dazzling it seemed to draw in the radiance of all creation. Then it slowly descended. Before I could see what it was, a silver-bladed sword spun through the air and landed in my grasp.
“Your Holy Sword, Flame, was taken by Lucifer. This is the Sword of the Holy Spirit—Radiance. I have reforged it and now entrust it to you.”
As I gripped the hilt and gave it a light swing, a steady stream of fire surged into my palm. I tightened my hold and looked up at God.
“You’ve infused it with fire magic?”
“Yes.”
In a blade of pure light attribute, the failure rate of infusing fire is nearly 100%, especially with a sword of ancient origin like this one. Such a feat could only be done by the Father Himself. I was grateful for His mercy, as the magical elements within me favored fire far more than light. Yet even so, my heart felt inexplicably conflicted. Why would He do something so awkward? Was it simply because Radiance had stronger divine power? Had He realized, that this sword was the very one Lucifer, when he was still Ruthfel, had used since the beginning? This sword had accompanied him through thousands of Berduth. When he was still a proud and beautiful youth, he had slain uncountable demons with just a wave of it.
Even with fire magic added, the light element would still flow alongside into my body. If fire and light had flavors within the body, the former would be like mint—too cool, almost sharp; the latter would be like chili—searing at first, numbing with excess, until one grew used to it. Using this comparison to distinguish myself from the Ruthfel of the past felt rather apt.
After all, I was the Angel of Fire. Compared to “Radiance,” I still preferred “Flame”. Just as I was reminiscing about the sword that had followed me for so many years, I suddenly remembered where I’d last seen it—the Source of Sin. And it was placed there alongside the Infernal Sword, Abyss.
God, how could I have forgotten something so important?!
Those two swords were forged from the strongest light and dark forces—one ultimate light, one ultimate dark. Placing them together created an immense repulsive force. In just one day, the energy they harbored together could reduce any city in Heaven or the Demon Realm to rubble. That’s why, in the past, any direct confrontation between me and Lucifer would leave vast fields of corpses behind.
Yet he—he hadn’t consulted anyone. He had just placed Flame and Abyss together in the Source of Sin, the very place known as the womb of the Demon Realm. And they had been left there for four thousand years.
In the Source of Sin, any power on the verge of eruption would fall into a deep slumber, becoming like an unborn child in the womb. But since it’s been given a nickname like “womb,” then the birth of that child is only a matter of time. At that thought, a chill ran down my back—if Flame and Abyss combined could destroy a city in a single day, what would happen if they’ve been together for four thousand years?
Lucifer truly has gone mad. Because under any circumstance, his power is only five-sixths that of God’s. If he wants to defeat God, the only way is to harness external force. So these two swords must be meant for God. But can he really control such immense destructive power to kill God, or wipe out the divine race?
This doesn’t feel like Lucifer. I always believed he was the type to grasp destiny with his own hands. Or is it that he hates God that much? And if so, what birthed such intense hatred?
That word, the answer, had already taken form in my heart, yet I didn’t dare think it fully.
The next morning, God announced my awakening in the Sanctum. It’s worth noting that He didn’t say “rebirth,” but used the word “awakening” instead. He wants these high-ranking angels to believe the position of Archangel had never been vacant, that I had merely stepped away for a while. But I hadn’t been gone just a year or two. During this long absence, Heaven and Demon Realm have undergone great upheaval. I couldn’t expect them to obey me as they once did.
And it turns out, my prediction wasn’t wrong. When God finished speaking, the welcome ceremony they gave me was only a long silence. It wasn’t the first time I’d encountered such awkwardness, and I was preparing to make an opening statement when a seraph said:
“None of us doubt Lord Michael’s power, nor do we question his leadership. Under his command, the angelic legions were an invincible force unprecedented in history—a height not even Ruthfel once reached. But is that alone enough? Tell me, what do you think is the most important virtue for an Archangel?”
No one responded. I turned around, gazing at them in a daze. That seraph looked at me and smiled, like a parent seeing through a child’s little trick: “Look at those eyes. That look again. It’s truly hard to believe that an Archangel who presents as a tall, imposing man would always try to persuade others with such innocent and beautiful blue eyes. As if trying to prove to us he’s innocent. Am I right? I ask you again: what is the most important virtue in an Archangel?”
Another seraph answered, “Loyalty.”
“Exactly! Loyalty!” The first seraph’s voice rose, “He looks at us like he never betrayed Heaven! But deep down, you all know what kind of relationship he had with the Sovereign of Demons! God, in His mercy, allowed the divine race to believe he had been killed by the demons—just to protect his reputation after death! But we all know what really happened!”
His angry voice echoed through the Sanctum. The rest of them stayed silent, but the tension in the air grew heavier. He continued: “What could’ve happened that even his own son turned on him, leading troops to hunt him down? Because in the winter of Year 13921, on the night before his death, he was still sleeping in that black velvet bed in Kade Palace!”
The moment he cited the old calendar, murmurs broke out among the angels.
“In my eyes, the truly despicable ones… are you all!”
The voice came from Gabriel. Her eyes blazing with fury, she stepped forward and snapped:
“Where he sleeps is his private affair. You should know that the angels who led his siege have already been punished. Hanniah has since fallen into deep depression. Raphael is still missing to this day. I didn’t see Lord Michael betray the divine race. What I did see was you—all of you—gleefully extracting the ceasefire pact from his broken body and throwing the corpse of the divine race’s supreme commander to the demons! If not him as Archangel, then who? You? You, who crave petty gains and turn your back on the people of Heaven?”
The seraph flushed with embarrassment. He looked at her, then at me, caught between retreat and retaliation. Few dared to go against Gabriel in Heaven, even if she looked like a golden-haired doll. But there were always exceptions.
For example, Uriel.
“Lady Gabriel, you do seem to enjoy dodging the point,” Uriel said mildly. “What we’re discussing now is how we’re going to deal with our Archangel Commander’s relationship with Lucifer. Are you really willing to entrust Heaven’s countless lives to the lover of the Demon Sovereign?”
He had clearly banked on Gabriel’s impulsive nature, speaking slowly like an old ox chewing grass. In sheer presence, he was no match for her. But when it came to nitpicking and sharpness, Gabriel couldn’t outmatch him.
“I think you all arguing over this makes you look like a bunch of children fighting over candy. Absolutely adorable.” Metatron adjusted his glasses, the lenses flashing with a sharp glint. “The Demon Realm is united right now, hell-bent on attacking our old nest, and you’re all still bickering about things that happened thousands of years ago. Even if Michael and Lucifer did have a thing, that was ages ago, okay? They’ve broken up long since. Honestly, you all reek of being straight-A students who never read the gossip columns, aha.”
Just as he finished speaking, God coughed, faintly. In all of history, the only ones who’d ever dared to act this irreverent in the Sanctum were him—and Ruthfel. But thanks to Metatron’s inappropriate demeanor, the tension in the room eased a little. God temporarily shelved my reinstatement and brought the day’s assembly to a close.
Back on home soil but still in a state of suspended duty, I had little to do except arrange my residence and meet briefly with Hanniah. At dusk, I flew alone to wander around Shima. Of all the Seven Heavens, Shima has the highest number of fragmented floating islands. Sparse in population and vast in sky, the angels here don’t so much fly as drift, like dandelion fluff carried on the wind, aimlessly meandering over the sea.
The streets of Shima are always lined with quaint cafés, bookstores, and dessert shops. Today, all these shops, the clock towers, even the mount stands for rented steeds were plastered with front-page headlines. In bold gilded Gothic script, one line shattered the capital’s usual tranquility: “Michael Has Awakened!”
The city was abuzz with talk. Meanwhile, I wandered alone into Ruthfel Cathedral.
This structure had weathered nearly six thousand Berduth, and still remains the largest surviving cathedral in all of Heaven—because God Himself had built it. Once a sacred site of angelic prayer, it had borne witness to the hymns of ten thousand voices, and later, to long years of decay and cobwebs. And now, it had become a major tourist attraction for all angels visiting Heaven. To Shima, it was what the pyramids are to Cairo, Notre Dame to Paris, or Big Ben to London.
Tickets were cheap, to accommodate lower-ranking angels. As long as they came to Shima, they would make sure to visit this place. Looking out over the cathedral’s eighty exhibit halls, angels were constantly coming and going, making the space livelier than ever.
Wearing a white cloak, I walked among the crowds and toured the place. I found many new additions—large open stone-and-gold books displaying stories written in Ancient Divine Script, along with comic-strip-like illustrations of wars and revolutions. There were also items once used by the fallen angels—mostly rings and crucifixes—neatly displayed in cases, labeled with silver plaques listing their names, dates, and associated events.
On the second floor, I saw a gold ring once worn by Lucifer. After all these years, its appearance hadn’t changed at all. I still remembered how it had never left his side, how perfectly it matched his hair color. Apparently, it had been lost during a mass banquet in Jerusalem. Funny—I wouldn’t even have remembered that gathering if not for this exhibit…
“Little Michael.”
I froze at the voice. Then I looked up and saw Metatron, without his glasses. Angels don’t age, yet somehow, he looked much older than before.
I gave him a faint smile. “Long time no see. You don’t seem that excited to see me. I’m a little disappointed.”
“I look calm on the outside, but I’m screaming on the inside,” he shrugged, acting indifferent—but I knew he meant it. “I’m so happy you’re back. I couldn’t sleep at all last night.”
“I’m just bored.” I lifted my chin slightly, gesturing for him to walk with me toward the windows.
“Is that so? I’m not bored. I’ve been looking for you since I left the Sanctum. Can’t believe I actually found you here.”
“Looks like the Chancellor of Heaven doesn’t have as tight a schedule as I thought.”
“Right back at you, Vice Regent.”
Truthfully, I had long since grown used to Lucifer’s coldness. After all, we’d been apart far too long. But I never imagined I’d one day be this distant with Metatron too.
There was no excitement in this reunion, no tears or embraces, just a quiet conversation, like running into an old friend after many years. We walked along the cathedral’s second-floor wall, brushing past curious tourists. Every so often, brilliant light would stream in through the massive windows, casting its glow over us. Through them, I could see white Shima flashing past like a carousel slide.
Metatron and I talked for a long, long while. We circled that massive cathedral many times. By the end, I realized I couldn’t even recall everything we’d talked about—just that it had all been about the past. What stayed with me most clearly was the moment he first mentioned Raphael: his brow furrowed slightly, a fleeting but complex emotion passed through his eyes, and then he calmly told me that Raphael had vanished. Aside from that, every other topic was as still as water.
Strangely, what I remembered best wasn’t even the conversation, but rather what I saw while walking with him: the bell tower in the mist. The angels in flight. The gryphons circling. The academy made up of floating islands outside the window. The light of Saint Faylia soaking into the clouds with a hint of gold. I tried to glimpse the neighborhood I once lived in, the one strewn with white roses, but regrettably—I couldn’t find it.
Then news of war came so quickly, it left everyone reeling. My own situation hadn’t even settled yet before, just a few days later, words of a renewed Demon Realm invasion spread across Heaven, plunging the already anxious divine race back into panic. This time, neither the size of the invading army nor the name of its vice general mattered. The name of the commanding general alone was enough to strike terror:
Mammon. Belial.
God issued an emergency command, excusing me from attending the assembly. I sat in restless silence all morning in the Hall of Spelndor, until I heard news that Randekiel and Metatron had gone to the front lines. I tried using teleportation magic to tell Hanniah to wait at home for updates from the battlefield, but he ignored me.
Barely five minutes passed before I sensed something was wrong. I rushed to the Sanctum without even stopping to ask why and pleaded with God to let me go to the front. When He gave His permission, I gathered an angelic battalion and flew urgently to the Gate of Heaven.
A sea of heads darkened the skies, covering the First Heaven. The Gate stood as the dividing line, separating the angels and demons. At that moment, a heavy silence hung below—both sides were locked in standoff.
My mind raced—and then I saw them: the massive demon army and Mammon himself.
At the same time, soft sobs rippled through our angelic ranks, like a wounded beast whimpering. It made my heart clench.
I turned again, fixing my eyes on Mammon. His body was stained with blood. Before him stood a figure, his neck hooked by Mammon’s scythe. In the demon ranks behind him, a skeletal warlock stood surrounded, clutching in his hand the enigmatic staff, Soul of Satan.
“Mammon—let go of him!”
Someone screamed hoarsely from the crowd. “If anything happens to him today, I swear I’ll tear you to pieces!!!”
For a moment, I couldn’t even process whose voice it was.
Mammon licked the blood from his fingers, then his fangs. “Lord Metatron, why the rush? I’m just waiting for your answer.”
It was only then that I realized, that the one Mammon was holding was… Hanniah.
Hanniah’s lips were blue, his body trembling like a dead leaf in autumn. Blood streamed down his back, staining his snow-white robes. I couldn’t believe my eyes—all six of his wings had been completely severed.
And his eyes… why are they all red?
Hanniah… is now blind?
The crowd below roared with grief and rage, their cries breaking into incoherence. That’s when I knew for certain that it was Metatron.
“I’ll say it again,” Mammon didn’t move. “Give me Michael in exchange, and I’ll release him.”
I pulled a sword from a soldier beside me with magic and hurled it downward. The blade tore through cloud and air with a shriek and clanged against Mammon’s scythe. The shock threw him back a step.
In that instant, thousands lifted their heads in unison, every face filled with disbelief.
I raised Radiance and slid downward through the sky. Behind me, the angelic battalion descended in perfect formation, wings unfurling like a vast net blanketing the heavens.
I landed before him and extended my hand.
“Hand him over.”
Mammon stared at me, his body swaying.
“Mammon. Hand him over!”
Mammon’s grip on the scythe loosened slightly, then clenched tighter. “Who are you?”
I grabbed the handle of his scythe and shoved it hard to the side. Already off balance, Mammon staggered backward. I pointed my blade at him, then seized Hanniah by the shoulder and pulled him into my arms, quickly pushing him toward Metatron.
“You tell me. Who am I?”
Mammon’s lips thinned to a line. He stared at me for a long while.
“Why are you pretending to be him…”
“Mammon! Is this how you force me out?!” I roared, unable to contain my fury. “By hurting my family?!”
Mammon’s eyes slowly widened.
“It really is… you…?”
I raised my hand high, intending to slap him.
But my hand stopped in midair. I couldn’t bring myself to strike him after all.
The battlefield fell into dead silence.
Mammon showed no fear. He took a step forward.
Through the dense crowd, I saw Belial’s skeletal form standing alone, his face utterly blank throughout.
Hitting Mammon would change nothing. I couldn’t afford to lose my composure now. I lowered my hand.
That’s when I noticed—he was now taller than me.
Mammon was too beautiful. People often forgot he was a conscienceless archdevil. A creature who, push come to shove, would kill his own father. Why would he care about my son?
But in some strange way, maybe his demonic traits were a kind of blessing. At least they made him understandable.
I smiled at him.
“It’s me.”
He grabbed my shoulder, hard enough that my collarbone began to ache. Then, without warning, he pulled me into an embrace and tried to kiss me. I quickly turned my head so he didn’t manage to land the kiss. But he didn’t seem to care. He clung tightly to me, his nose and eyes turning red.
“I missed you. You really have no idea how much I missed you, Michael. These past four thousand years, there hasn’t been a single day I didn’t think of you.”
In the distance, the little skeletal warlock in a black cloak lowered his head slightly, staring at the staff in his hand. After a moment, he turned silently and walked away, fading into the thick smoke of war.
“Wait.” I pushed Mammon away and kept a long distance between us, my voice quiet enough for only the two of us to hear. “You don’t actually have to be this sad, because I remember everything you ever told me. Including that story about the fallen angel and the demoness.”
Mammon’s upward-tilted eyes widened in surprise.
I softened my tone.
“Mammon, would you call off the troops? I don’t want to fight you.”
“Okay.”
His answer came so quickly that a soldier beside him blurted out, “No, Lord Mammon—!”
Before the words even finished, that soldier’s head had already been severed at Mammon’s feet.
I watched the head roll like a basketball, his stunned expression frozen on his face. I couldn’t stop myself from closing my eyes, suppressing the impulse to strike Mammon, and forced a smile:
“Wait for me at Lake Delle, all right?”
“Yes.”
He paused, his eyes burning as if he saw nothing in the world but me:
“I’ll wait for you.”
Just like that, Mammon withdrew his forces. Even though Belial was also a commanding general, he seemed to have no say in any of this.
By now, Hanniah’s body and face were already a bloody pulp. Twin trails of blood streaked down his cheeks like crimson tears. He shivered in Metatron’s arms, trembling violently. “Father… is it Father who’s come…?”
“Yes, yes. He’s back,” Metatron whispered, patting him gently, his voice thick with tears. “Hanniah, your father is back.”
“Metatron, you found out too late. Hanniah already knew. Isn’t that right, son?”
Hanniah nodded faintly, his voice weak. “But… you haven’t come home yet. And you and Heavenly Father aren’t like you used to be…”
“What are you talking about? We’re going home now.”
I had originally planned to carry him on my back, but was afraid of touching his wounds, so I could only hold his hand tightly.
After this war that ended without a single battle, all kinds of rumors about me erupted and spread like wildfire. I became famous across all of Heaven. Afterward, the Lord personally treated Hanniah’s wounds.
Before the Sanctum held its next council, I suddenly came to a realization: I couldn’t just keep submitting like this.
I rose early that morning, looked in the mirror, and carefully placed the ceremonial feather plume above my ear. Then I donned a full array of official necklaces, one after the other. It was as if those four thousand years really had been nothing but a long sleep.
I entered the Sanctum with the archangels. Sacred light surrounded the divine Throne. We flew over the golden carpet as our cloaks billowed behind us. Light bathed our faces. Several younger angels floated in the air, scattering red and pink petals. The hall was thick with drifting mist, a surreal haze. Under the gaze of countless angels, I walked to the front of the procession. Angels, after all, were symbols of holiness, serenity, and peace. The Lord sat with eyes closed at the left of the Throne. Wings opened and folded as angels rose into the air, their movements graceful and fluid.
“Sanctus!” “Sanctus!” “Sanctus!”
The cries came wave after wave, their unified echoes nearly shaking the distant dome, resounding without end.
God was never one for many words. The Lord slowly opened His eyes: “Michael, will you return to your rightful place, and lead Heaven into battle?”
“I will.”
“Then from this day forward, stand firm. Gird your waist with truth. Put on the breastplate of righteousness. And fit your feet with the readiness of the gospel of peace.”
As soon as He finished speaking, Uriel stepped out from among the Seven Archangels.
“We haven’t even resolved what we were discussing before,” he objected. “And yet Michael is suddenly reinstated as Vice Regent? You’re really going to entrust the safety of Heaven to the lover of the Demon Sovereign—the father of satans? What a joke!”
No one else dared speak to the Lord with such insolence—except him. But as soon as he said it, angels who had held their breath turned their restraint into whispers.
Randekiel, always calm, simply smiled at me.
Metatron raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t we already go over this? If we’re counting the past, then Lucifer used to be Ruthfel too, didn’t he?”
I looked at Uriel in confusion.
“Lord Michael has long since been out of touch with Heaven,” Randekiel said with a chuckle. “Belial, your and the Demon Sovereign’s youngest son, is now rumored to be the strongest Embodiment of Destruction in the Demon Realm.”
“What does that have to do with me? On the battlefield, there are no feelings. Only victory or defeat.”
“Watch your—”
“Enough,” said the Lord, cutting him off. “Michael, if you wish to lead Heaven’s armies once more, you must inspire them to follow.”
“I understand.”
I stepped slowly up to the dais, raised my chin, stood straight and tall.
“All those among the divine race who are willing to march into the Demon Realm with me—step forward!”
A few seraphim who had once fought beside me on the battlefield wiped away tears, choking up.
“Lord Michael, you’ve finally come back. We always believed in you, but never truly thought you’d return. Knowing you’re alive… it’s just… it’s the best thing in the world…”
These were the ones I had counted on. I knew they would be the first to return to my side. No matter how much doubt or denial surrounded me, as long as they were here, I wouldn’t falter. I would fight on with everything I had.
Metatron stepped up and gave me a light smile. Then Iophiel and Sandalphon followed after. Some glanced around, uncertain. Some looked ready. Some scoffed. Some merely watched from the sidelines. A few more stepped forward… and then, no one else.
But this was no time for retreat. If the army fell into the hands of cowards, then Heaven truly would be doomed. And this time, our enemies weren’t just Lucifer’s bloodthirsty underlings or his violence-prone son. It was Lucifer himself—and the endless terror he’d hidden in the Source of Sin.
I waited a moment. Then I asked,
“Does anyone know what the true purpose of war is?”
Silence.
“It is to end war. That must be the purpose. The only purpose.”
My gaze swept over them all. I saw countless different expressions.
“Our war with the Demon Realm is not only for the Father God and the Lord. It’s not only for Heaven’s survival or the honor of the divine race.
Have any of you ever stopped to ask yourselves a few simple questions?
If you were to die one day, who would you most wish to see the day before?
If you became a soul, cut off from the living world—who would you keep watching? Who would you keep protecting?
When you lose consciousness—who is the one person you’ll still remember, still long for?”
I spoke each word with deliberate care. The angels held their breath, utterly still.
“That person… could die the very next moment in this holy war.
We live in fear every day, powerless to stop it. Why?
Because we’ve forgotten who we are.
We will defeat the traitors—those demons who’ve harmed our loved ones—and reclaim our destiny.
For Heaven. For Father. For the ones we love most. For our homeland. For our honor.
We must fight!”
I drew Radiance and raised it high above my head, pointing it toward the brilliant dome above us.
“All brave members of the divine race who wish to march forward with me—return to my side!”
Uriel sneered coldly. But Gabriel smirked and stepped forward.
“Your Highness, don’t make me doubt my own instincts.”
I nodded to her. Then more and more began to step forward, one after another.
Uriel’s expression began to shift.
A subordinate angel behind him started to move, only to be held back and glared at fiercely.
But that only made things worse—several of his underlings flew directly over his head and landed in front of me.
“Little Michael,” Metatron whispered, “you’re screwed. Uriel’s not Uriel anymore, he’s Ur-salty.”
“I can’t believe you still have the nerve to ruin the mood at a time like this,” Gabriel scoffed, then turned back to me with a grin.
“Still… Michael. Once upon a time, you were just a pacifier-sucking baby. Look at you now, being this handsome. Shame you only like men.”
“I like women too.” I gave her a slow once-over. “Just not virgins.”
Gabriel pinched my hand hard, really, really hard. I nearly yelped. But then she laughed:
“Go on. Devils aren’t as terrifying as they’re drawn, and hardship isn’t as hard as it seems.”
They say when someone falls in love, they unconsciously start mimicking the person they love.
In time, the expressions, gestures, even the way they speak, start to mirror each other.
I suddenly turned back to look at her.
Her expression had softened, eyes curving with childlike sweetness. She tilted her head ever so slightly, crescent eyes with such innocent warmth.
Randekiel also walked over. “I always saw you as a naive child. Seems I was wrong.”
“No matter how late I matured, I’m still not that young anymore. Though I’m not quite as old as these two.”
I elbowed Metatron to my left and Gabriel to my right.
Metatron clearly disliked anyone bringing up his age. A vein popped on his forehead, but he forced a thin smile.
“Little Michael’s always been like this, using his youthful beauty to lure people into following him.”
“Well, it is my capital.” I shrugged indifferently.
“But leading a war against the Demon Realm—what I mean is, his Demon Realm—are you really capable of that?”
“No matter who the opponent is, what I’m fighting against is the enemy invading Heaven.”
There was truly no moment of conviction greater than this one.
I refuse to believe in fate anymore. I refuse to believe in Original Sin.
Who says I’m a replica of God? Who says I’m His substitute?
Even if I truly am the discarded part of Him, I am not the same.
He is cold. I am incandescent. We are completely different.
And this—I don’t need to prove it to anyone but myself.
I will no longer let Lucifer use me to long for someone else.
Because no matter how many memories flood back, they are all just the past.
I haven’t forgotten that as Michael, there is one treasure I’ve always wanted to protect:
Our homeland. Heaven, the realm of the divine.
Perhaps it was this thought that led me, a few days later, to discover the reason I couldn’t find my old neighborhood near the Ruthfel Cathedral.
As it turned out, it had been demolished three hundred and forty years ago and rebuilt into a trainee sword practice arena for the Academy of the Seventh.
All the flowers had been uprooted—transplanted to the outskirts of the Sixth Heaven.
So there would be no more rainy seasons of falling white roses.
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
