The Angel of Fire (2)

The next day, a thunderous announcement spread across all of Heaven: Lord Lucifer’s Favored Angel, a mere Power, had unleashed the ultimate fire spell—Twilight of the Apocalypse—and obliterated the Fire Citadel, a thousand-Berduth-old landmark of Divine Law history.

Even more shocking than the spell itself was the name of this angel: Isar.

While this news was setting the Seven Heavens ablaze with gossip, I was lying in Metatron’s residence, staring dazedly at the ceiling.

“My dear, you’re awake? I have three pieces of news for you. One good, one bad, and one undetermined. Which do you want first?” Metatron’s big head loomed into view, flanked by Raphael and Sandalphon.

I sat up, clutching my head. “The bad one.”

“Your Celestial Language and basic magic scores dragged your average down. Congratulations—you failed.”

“Ugh… I figured. What’s the good news?”

“You cast the ultimate fire spell. In the process, you fractured four or five ribs. Sandalphon healed them for you.”

I quickly turned to thank him.

Sandalphon waved me off. “N-n-n-no problem.”

Metatron patted my shoulder with a strangely solemn look. “Only Seraphim who govern fire can cast Twilight of the Apocalypse. Unfortunately for you—well, maybe fortunately—Divine Law cares only about magical prowess. Everything else is secondary. Because of that, not only did you pass the entire exam… you received perfect marks.”

“W-what…”

“Get ready for the wing-bestowal rite, little Isar.” Metatron smiled. “Even though you were unconscious and injured, the magic you released was nearly on par with mine. It caught the attention of the Lord God. He’s requested an audience with you in one month.”

I nodded, still completely dazed.

Raphael added gently, “There’s no need to worry. God will not make things difficult for you.”

Metatron propped his chin in his hand, looking utterly pleased with himself. “Like I said, we’re a perfect match, you and I. Now, the angel performing your wing-bestowal must be two ranks higher than your current status, which means a Throne or above. Your future magic will be influenced by theirs, so the stronger, the better. Since you specialize in fire magic, an angel of wind would be ideal.”

A wind angel?

I glanced at Raphael. He was the only one I knew… but he was the Archangel of Wind. That felt far too ambitious.

But Raphael smiled. “Which is why Lord Metatron has personally requested that I perform your wing-bestowal rite—if that’s acceptable to you?”

Heaven had dropped a windfall—an extra-large, deep-dish sixteen-inch pizza-sized windfall.

After thanking Raphael profusely, Sandalphon said, “I-I-Isar, once the wing-bestowal ceremony is c-c-completed, r-r-remember to go to the Hall of Splendor. L-L-Lord Lucifer is looking for y-y-you.”

I wasn’t exactly eager to see Lucifer. Something about being around him always left me inexplicably tired.

“But I can’t find the Hall of Splendor.”

“Once you enter Sancta Faylia,” Raphael said, walking to the window and pulling open the heavy curtain, “you’ll find it.”

A surge of intense illusionary light poured into the room like a restless tide. I immediately raised my hand to shield my eyes.

The firmament was dazzling. Golden dust drifted down from the sky like fluttering cherry blossoms. Gothic spires gleamed with gold and silver, rising through layered clouds. The roads, stretched thin into radiant golden ribbons, crisscrossed in every direction, weaving through the splendor of Sancta Faylia as though they extended to the ends of the world.

The most striking among them was the towering golden hall in the west. Raphael pointed toward it and said, “That’s the Seraphic Palace. The one in the very center—the tallest of them all, whose spire is hidden even from here—is the Creator God’s Sanctum. Its seven entrances represent the Seven Archangels. On the left, the one crowned with a cross is the Christum. On the right, with three grand entrances and a massive circular window flanked by six translucent wings, that’s Lord Lucifer’s Hall of Splendor.”

I stared at the buildings, dazed.

So this is what it means to “not recognize Mount Lu because you’re standing within it”.

Looking out from the Hall of Splendor last time, I had already thought the imperial capital was almost unreal in its brilliance. But now, facing the splendor of the Seraphic Palace and the cascading waterfalls that poured from its pillars—those unfamiliar colors, that half-transparent luminous mist—it all felt like a dream.

Raphael gazed toward the distant Sanctum and smiled softly. “When I first arrived in Sancta Faylia, I had the exact same reaction. I’d never seen a place so magnificent. Every day I just stood there, staring at the Sanctum. I used to think, if there ever came a day when I could stand inside that hall and worship God with the other angels, singing praises together, how wonderful that would be.”

Metatron took out a fresh set of clothes and helped me into them, speaking casually, “Why bring up things from before the Third War?”

“That was an era of turmoil. Even Sancta Faylia was shaken. Only those three palaces remained unmoved, unchanged, even to this day. Back when I was studying in the Divine Law, I met Amore, Tinas, Reynor, Osair… and now they’re all just portraits in history books. Honestly, those years of study were the finest days of my life.”

Metatron finished dressing me swiftly and gave my shoulder a pat. “To the altar with you, Isar, of Virtue.”

There are two altars for wing-awakening—one on the Sixth Heaven, and one outside the Sanctum. The former is called the Child’s Altar, where angels ascend from two wings to four. The latter, known as the Sanctified Altar, is for advancing from four wings to six. The Child’s Altar lies on the borderlands of the Sixth Heaven, surrounded by a few secluded, idyllic villages. It is also the only place in the Sixth Heaven where night can still be felt.

A deep-blue night.

Mist veiled the vast lake, reflecting rippling silver light that shimmered upon the alabaster altar at its center. Angels were forbidden to fly across; they had to wade slowly through the shallow waters to reach it. Overhead, Jupiter’s rings turned in slow procession, and along their curve trailed a procession of stars—silver-blue, luminous violet, pale gold… like a mirage drifting over the sea.

White feathers drifted in long, graceful lines above the altar, rising and falling in a gentle, irregular rhythm.

One by one, the angels stepped into the lake from the shore, their wings gliding through the water with a delicate rustling, like the soft chime of a music box.

Raphael took my hand and led me in.

The water was icy. I gasped involuntarily. Raphael gave my hand a reassuring squeeze and smiled gently. “Relax. We’ll be there soon.” I nodded and followed him, step by step. All around us, the angels were watching his golden six wings, his hair that shimmered like gold, and his fair, radiant face.

Then I saw Sariel standing on the altar.

A dazzling silver shortbow was slung across his back, and a small quiver was strapped to his slim leg. His golden eyes gleamed like topaz under the firefly-lit sky. In front of him stood a Power, bare-chested, hair damp, water droplets glistening as they dripped from his feet.

Sariel held a golden chalice in his left hand and dipped his right fingers into the holy water. While softly chanting, he traced marks on the angel’s brow, chin, and chest. The six wings behind him moved gently, glowing with brilliance.

The Power stood stiffly, gazing at Sariel in silence.

Then Sariel cupped the angel’s face and pressed a kiss to his lips.

It was as if a dusting of ice-blue powder drifted down. Beneath the reflections on the water, in the glow of emerald light, the Power’s wings were slowly dyed in shades of blue.

I whispered, “Incredible. Does every angel go through this?”

“Mhm.”

“Then who performed your wing-bestowal?”

“Lord Metatron.”

“But he’s fire-aligned, right? Fire counters wind, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. He told me to go find Lord Uriel. But I insisted. So, with no other choice, he brought me here,” Raphael said, a faraway smile on his lips. “And that’s how I lost my first kiss.”

People still talk about first kisses these days? Aside from scoundrels like Metatron, angels really are a bunch of romantics.

I watched as Sariel let go of the now Virtue beside him, the two of them descending the steps together. “Are we… supposed to, you know, kiss too?”

Raphael led me up by the hand. “Don’t worry. It’s just a formality.”

“So every time you level up, you have to kiss someone?”

“No, that’s only at the Child’s Altar. At the Sanctified Altar… you bathe together.”

“B-b-bathe… together?!”

“Mhm. You embrace, kiss, body to body. Every inch of skin must be touched by the other person. But that’s the extent of it.”

All that groping and kissing while naked in a bath. Why not just skip and go straight to the main event?

I asked, cautiously, “S-so… was it still Metatron you chose?”

Raphael nodded.

I wiped imaginary sweat from my brow. “Must’ve been tough to hold back. My condolences.”

Raphael looked toward the altar, golden hair shimmering softly. “We… didn’t hold back.”

…What?

What did I just hear?!

“It’s our turn.” Raphael took my hand and led me up onto the altar.

My mind was still stuck replaying his last sentence, so I barely noticed when we reached the platform. Raphael slipped off my shirt, then picked up the golden chalice from the altar and dipped his fingers into the holy water, pressing a drop onto the center of my forehead.

He parted his lips and began to chant an ancient celestial hymn.

I couldn’t understand most of the words—probably full of specialized terms I hadn’t learned yet—but his voice rose and fell in such a graceful cadence that it filled the quiet night with a kind of ethereal glow, like a mermaid singing to the moon beneath starlight.

His six wings shimmered faintly gold as they unfurled against the night sky.

He touched my chin and chest with fingertips wet from the chalice. The holy water trailed down my skin in a cold line.

Under the starlit heavens, I felt a searing warmth spread across my back. Something new was beginning to grow.

Just before Raphael kissed me, a strange thought entered my mind. This place was so peaceful, so beautiful… what would it be like if Lucifer were the one performing my wing ceremony?

He probably wouldn’t agree, I thought. My rank was still far too low. But maybe one day, if I earned white six wings… if I begged him to be the one to bless my ascension into a blue six-winged Intelligence…Would I stand a better chance?

Of course, what I didn’t know then was this: the very moment such a notion was born, a subtle, corrosive spiral had already begun to take root deep within my soul.

And I knew even less that the day would never come when Lucifer would see me ascend with six wings.

Raphael and I walked down from the altar, and I tried moving my newly gained four wings, soaring up into the air. The difference was immediate. I was flying much faster than before, and my wingbeats required far less effort. As expected, the higher the rank, the larger and more graceful the wings became. Every movement now had a dashing presence. Raphael followed beside me with a gentle smile, clearly pleased as well.

Just then, a Dominion angel flew toward us. “Lord Raphael, demons approaching the borders. Should we send someone to handle it?”

“Are there many enemies?”

“Not many. They’re weak.”

“Handle it directly. No need to report back unless something serious happens.” Raphael paused. “Isar, where are you off to?”

“I’m going to check out the demon commotion!” I said, excitedly flapping my still-unfamiliar four wings and following the Dominion.

As we passed beyond Shima’s outer border, I saw a group of six-wings standing on the staircase that led up to Sancta Faylia. I braked hard, but the new wings were still hard to control, so I overshot my mark. Still, in high spirits, I waved energetically before I even reached the lead angel:

“Lord Lucifer!”

“What is it?” Lucifer’s gaze shifted to my back. “You’ve grown wings.”

“Yup! I’ve got four now!” I spun around and gave them a proud shake.

Lucifer smiled. “They’re very pretty. Suit you well.”

“Haha, I think so too! Thank you, Your Highness. See you!”

Later, I would regret it deeply.

I actually flaunted my wings in front of Lucifer.…..

It had been a long time since I last left Shima.

Cutting through the thick layers of cloud, I chose a quieter path and began spinning through the air like Peter Pan, twisting and twirling with delight. Before long, I reached the outskirts of the First Heaven.

At this time, the human world had yet to exist. The distance between Heaven and Hell was remarkably short. Stretching before me were hills blanketed in emerald trees, lush and dripping with life, untouched by even a trace of pollution. This undeveloped land was known as the Red Sea.

Breathing in the fresh air, I followed the distant sound of shouting, gliding over with a light heart.

A group of Dominions appeared to be surrounding something. The Throne leader had one foot firmly pressing down on what looked like a creature, his expression bearing a coldness, something seldom seen on a celestial face.

In truth, the divine race wasn’t composed solely of angels. There were also spirits, sentient beings of light, and consciousness forms—but over 95% were angels. To most people, “the divine race” was synonymous with “Angel.” The Demon Realm, however, was a different story altogether. Its species were far more diverse. Even the most common type, the lesser devils, only accounted for 23% of all demons.

The demon at their feet seemed to be one of the mid-tier kinds: a minotaur. He lay twisted on the ground, clearly in pain, his face contorted in agony.

You don’t realize until you compare. After seeing too many angels, even their beauty starts to dull. But now, standing before this minotaur, I was struck by how otherworldly they looked. They say only archdevils, lesser devils, and fallen angels are halfway decent-looking—but even then, they couldn’t hold a candle to the angels’ beauty.

The grotesque minotaur opened his wide mouth, thick drool spilling constantly from his tongue. Every angel nearby wore a look of disgust. One of them sneered, “Just kill it already. Keeping it alive is revolting.”

The minotaur’s reddened eyes welled as he kowtowed, speaking in broken divine tongue, “Spare me… spare me, noble angels, please spare me… I beg you… you of the celestial race, you with eternal lifespans—you do not understand the joy of life—ahhh—!!”

Before he could finish, an angel struck downward with his scepter, and a torrent of flame erupted beneath the minotaur’s body.

“What would a lowly creature know of the joy of life?”

The crimson light of the fire danced across the angel’s face, and his divine beauty twisted into something almost terrifying. Magic had always been the bane of demons who relied on brute strength, and this minotaur—already severely wounded—had no strength to dodge. He could only writhe and scream as the flames engulfed him. The angels, seemingly unable to tolerate even the sound of his cries, turned in perfect formation and ascended into the skies, leaving the Red Sea behind.

At last, they were gone.

I cast a water spell, drawing river water to douse his burning body, but ordinary water could not extinguish fire conjured by celestial magic. My own rank was far beneath that of the Throne —I couldn’t dispel his flames. All I could do was stand there, watching the minotaur’s movements slow… then stop.

“Thank you… thank you, angel…” he whispered with his last breath, eyes glazed, “But I… I was just a fisherman… I never harmed any of you…”

“Don’t talk. I’ll go to the First Heaven right now and find someone who can heal you.” I stood up to leave, but the edge of my winged ceremonial robe was caught by his hand.

“Don’t bother… it’s useless. Your kind’s healing magic will only make me die faster…” In his bloodshot eyes, only a drowned, fading darkness remained. “But angel… never pity the demons. We do not know how to pity… and if one day Heaven falls, your end… will be even worse…”

He never got to finish his sentence.

It was in that moment that I truly realized—we were completely, irreconcilably opposed.

I had heard it long ago, from many angels: demons have no compassion. They don’t feel mercy, barely any emotions at all. Only the drive to kill, to conquer, and to take.

Still, I always thought none of that had anything to do with me.

After all, I would never have dealings with them. I’d never befriend a demon, much less fall in love with one.

…Even so, that single encounter ruined the good mood I’d had all day.

When I got home, Farthead wasn’t there. I was just about to flop onto the bed and rest when something tapped against the window. I thought it was just the wind and didn’t pay much attention—until I heard someone calling my name.

“Isar.”

The moment I heard that voice, I flung the window open and looked down.

—Lucifer was standing below, looking up at me.

I nearly tumbled out of the window.

“Your Highness! I didn’t know you were here—I’ll be right down! Just wait a second!” I turned to run downstairs, but decided that was too slow, and swung a leg over the railing, ready to fly down.

But he said, “No need.”

I froze in that awkward pose for a moment before slowly pulling my leg back in. “Is there something I can help Your Highness with?”

“I was passing by. The lights were off, and then suddenly they came on… I thought you might be back, so I wanted to say hello. Nothing more.”

I gave a quiet “oh.” I wanted to ask why he was passing through here at all, but couldn’t quite bring myself to say it.

Lucifer paused. “I’m heading back. Good night.”

I hesitated for a long moment before blurting out, “Wait—Your Highness, your gloves are still with me. Why don’t you come in for a bit? I’ve washed them. You can take them with you.”

“Alright.”

He was in front of me almost instantly. I instinctively reached out to help him through the window, but halfway there, I reconsidered—it felt a little too forward. Just as I started to pull my hand back, he caught it and leaned in slightly.

“Isar,” he said, “want to visit the Demon Realm?”

His sapphire eyes shimmered in the dark, and that faint smile of his completely stole my breath away. “…Of course I do.”

Lucifer’s smile deepened. “Then give me the other hand.”

Still a bit dazed, I placed my other hand in his.

And just like that, he took both and pulled me off the balcony in flight.

Wait—wait, I was only joking…

…