Tower of Luminescence (1)

“It’s what I owe you.”

Those blue eyes gazed at me, so bright, yet so hollow, like moonlight spilling across the surface of Lake Saiah.

When I embraced him, I caught the faintest trace of a scent, like green roses blooming along the thick branches in early summer.

“Don’t say another word. I don’t want to hear it.”

That’s what I said in the dream, weighed down by an emotion even I couldn’t name, saying words that made no sense at all:

“I don’t want you to repay me. I just want you to belong to me. If you think you owe me, then you can leave right now.”

“It’s what I owe you.”

He repeated, as if it were the only thing he knew how to say.

And all I felt was pain. That same, exclusive pain I’d felt the very first time we met.

In a daze, I called out his name, searching his eyes.

Lucifer, Lucifer…

Every time I looked into them,

it was like staring into the only ocean that ever existed in my life.

…

…

And so, I had yet another weird dream.

That same overwhelming sense of powerlessness I always feel in dreams. And lately, I keep dreaming about Lucifer. It must be because I’ve been obsessing over whether Ruthfel might be his illegitimate son after all.

The moment that thought crossed my mind, I suddenly realized—Ruthfel hadn’t shown up at all last night.

Had he been kidnapped?!

I jumped out of bed in a panic. Just as I was about to throw something on and run out to look for him, I noticed a small lump on the bed.

Two tiny feet poked out from under the covers.

I grabbed both feet and yanked them hard toward the foot of the bed.

Sure enough, Ruthfel, along with the pillow he was clinging to, was dragged right out from under the blanket, face-down and limp.

Strands of golden hair fell across the soft pillow as he curled up again, lifting his little butt back into the air.

“Farthead, get up!”

Of course yelling didn’t work. I pounced on him like a flea and started squishing his cheeks.

“You ghosted me last night! How dare you! Get up and explain yourself!”

Ruthfel was out cold.

I flipped him over and kneaded his cheeks like dough.

“Up! Up! Up, you hear me!”

He slowly cracked his eyes open… then shut them again.

His little wings twitched faintly, then drooped like soggy carrot tops.

I hesitated, then gave his ear a firm pinch.

He let out a soft grunt, grabbed my index finger with one tiny hand, and gave his wings another sleepy shake.

I leaned in slowly.

“What’s wrong?”

Ruthfel shook his head, then reached out and wrapped his arms around me, rubbing his palm against my back a few times.

This kid was acting off. I lowered my voice and asked,

“Hey, Farthead… are you feeling sick?”

Ruthfel shook his head again, his tiny face pressed quietly against my bare chest.

There wasn’t a speck of dirt on the him. His clothes were perfectly fine too.

But the usual milk cup wasn’t on the table either. Could he really be sick?

I reached out and gently touched Ruthfel’s forehead.

“Where’s your home? I’ll take you back.”

Ruthfel whispered,

“No…”

“But you look ill.”

He curled up tighter, shaking his head stubbornly. His wings looked different now—less gold, more silver—and dimmer too. Soft and droopy, they wrapped around his tiny body like a doll tucked in lotus petals.

I tried to piece together what had happened last night, but all I could recall was Lucifer’s lips moving, silently, as he spoke…

I shook the thought off.

The entrance exam was only days away.

And sure, with how things were going, failing it seemed like my destiny— but just the thought of ascending one rank and becoming a four-winged Virtue made me decide to give it a real shot.

One rank above Virtues were the Dominions, the blue-winged four-wings. And after that came the threshold into the high divine orders: the six-winged angels…

Didn’t sound that hard. Just three ranks, right?

Honestly, that beautiful archangel I saw in the wind mirror might really be future me, ahaha.

I sat at the head of the bed hugging my Heavenly Language textbook, summoned a little flame to float overhead for atmosphere, and gazed reverently at the waxy, scholarly pages…

I’m going to study hard! Really hard!

Several hours later, someone was calling me.

I cracked my eyes open in a daze—

and stared straight into a pair of wide, sky-blue eyes.

I nearly had a seizure.

Ruthfel was leaning back against the headboard, all smug like an adult. “You’ve been staring at it how long now? And still haven’t finished the first page?”

He must’ve noticed how stiff my expression had gotten, because he let out a small sigh.

“Just reading this one book isn’t enough. You’ll be tested on everything you’ve learned before too. And Heavenly Language is tied to Celestial History, so it’s best to study both together.”

I nodded, yawning.

Ruthfel, undeterred, continued his diligent lecturing:

“You can go read at the Tower of Light. Its archives are the most comprehensive in the entire Heaven.”

Shima’s two prestigious academies—one north, one south— are both connected to the Seventh Heaven. Each academy has its own grand tower that stretches all the way into the seventh layer.

The Tower of History, dedicated to Divine Law, stands beside the left wing of Seraphim Palace.

The Tower of Luminescence, where the archives are held, stands to the right.

In Shima, these two academies are separated by countless streets, an impossible distance to cross on foot. But in Sancta Faylia, they’re simply positioned at either end of the Seraphim palace complex.

Which really tells you just how luxurious and absurdly vast God’s residential district is.

It took a lot of begging, but I finally convinced Ruthfel to delay our trip to the Tower of Luminescence until tomorrow.

Sometimes I really don’t understand how an angel who looks four or five years old can be even stricter than a dad. Still, I have to admit: His maturity is a blessing. Unlike other noisy, tantrum-prone kids, he gives me the peace of mind to actually focus.

The two of us each held a book, leaning shoulder to shoulder as we read quietly together. We spent the entire day indoors like that.

At dusk, we took a few turns around the little garden downstairs.

It was already autumn—no more bees or butterflies. Ruthfel started playing with fallen leaves.

I couldn’t believe how formal he was even when picking things up. Watching him gather fallen leaves with such noble elegance, then press them neatly into his notebook…I honestly felt like I was acting as his nanny or valet.

The next morning, Ruthfel still slept for a long time.

While walking with Caro toward the Tower of Luminescence, I suddenly fished a feather out of my bag. Ruthfel’s.

I turned it over a few times and noticed it looked just a tiny bit like Lucifer’s feathers, though of course, not as beautiful. This kid had been shedding like crazy lately—his feathers were all over the place.

And guess who had to clean it all up? Me. It was driving me insane.

Could it be… like how trees shed their leaves in autumn, this child’s molting season had arrived?

Just then, a man walked up and stared curiously at the feather in my hand.

“Sir, may I take a look at that feather you’re holding?”

I handed it to him.

He took it carefully, like he was holding some kind of sacred relic.

“If I offered you a hundred gold coins… would you sell it?”

Caro and I both froze like statues.

A hundred gold coins?!

Did I hear that right?

Did this guy get kicked in the head by a donkey?

If I don’t take advantage of this moment, when will I?!

He said it himself—I’m just playing along!

Just as I was about to agree, Caro lazily waved his hand.

“No deal. Can’t you tell this is premium quality? At least this much.”

As he spoke, he lifted three fingers in a delicate orchid gesture, looking exactly like Empress Dowager Cixi showing off her fancy enamel nail guards.

Damn. This kid was even greedier than I was.

I kicked him swiftly to tell him not to push it. It’s just a feather. How much could it possibly be worth? A person’s gotta learn to be content.

But Caro kicked me right back. He was wearing genuine leather boots so I nearly teared up on the spot.

The man’s face changed. He suddenly pulled out a sheet of Basscow parchment from his coat, whipped out a feather quill, and with a dramatic flourish, scribbled something across the page. Then, without another word, he tossed it at us and bolted like a madman.

Caro and I looked down at the parchment.

At the top was a scrawled, abstract signature. Below that were illustrations of four different coins, front and back. The first row showed the largest one, stamped with the Seraphic Wings of Light and a cross, and next to it was a number:

30,000.

This man’s brain was definitely fried.

Caro and I stared at each other.

And then, for the next twenty minutes or so, our laughter echoed across the square, loud enough to shake the rooftops.

Later, I asked Caro why anyone would pay that much for a feather.

He said that high-quality feathers could enhance magical power, then dragged me into a rather upscale-looking shop.

The place was packed—people came and went nonstop, each carrying a small box in white, blue, or gold.

Caro explained, “Mixed-blood feathers are impure, harder for enhancement. This place sells the purest ones, all labeled with their origin. It’s ranked second among all feather shops in Heaven. And no counterfeits.”

“People counterfeit feathers?”

“There are tons of shady merchants selling fake feathers,” Caro said flatly. “If someone tells you they’ll sell you a Cherub’s feather for three thousand gold—don’t believe a word of it. It’s probably just a blue four-wing feather. Might even be a white feather dyed. The dyed ones are easy to tell though because there’s no spiritual glow. But when it comes to telling apart four-wing and six-wing feathers… if you’re not an expert, good luck. And the hardest to fake are gold feathers. Only Seraphim have those.”

After hearing that, I regretted it so hard I could feel my intestines turning green.

All those angels at the banquet had dropped so many feathers—and I didn’t pick up a single one!

In the crystal display case beside us, a neat row of feathers glowed behind glass.

The lowest grade was blue four-wing. The highest: golden six-wing. Feathers from all kinds of angels. The stronger the power, the higher the price.

Feathers from Principals were usually bought in bulk. As for Seraph feathers, most people spent an entire day agonizing over the price and still couldn’t decide.

A huge crowd had gathered around a golden box held up on a high pedestal. Curious, we went over and took a look.

Inside was a gold feather.

The label below it was printed in elegant gilded script:

Archangel of Water, Gabriel

And beneath that: a starting price.

A 7… followed by a string of zeroes.

Caro curled his lip.

“Tch. That dumb woman’s feathers are always priced stupidly high. And they auction them, too.”

“If Lady Gabriel’s feathers are that expensive, then how much would one of Lucifer’s cost?”

Caro snorted.

“As if Lord Lucifer’s feathers would ever be sold. Even if they were, who could afford them? Besides Lord Metatron, that is.”

He shrugged. “Come on. Let’s hit the bank and cash out. Just in case that guy was a scammer.”

I was in the middle of happily counting all the zeroes when he dragged me out of the shop.

As it turned out, our luck that day was freakishly good.

Not only was the Basscow parchment real, we actually cashed out the full 30,000 gold. On the spot.

After splitting the money, Caro and I practically laughed ourselves senseless.

I was so hyped from the windfall that I went straight home. Feeling magnanimous, I clapped Ruthfel on the shoulder and grinned:

“Your feather just sold for thirty thousand gold! I got fifteen, and I’m giving you half. Haha, don’t thank me—thank Caro. He’s the one who pushed the price up. If not for him, we’d both have been ripped off!”

When Ruthfel heard that one of his feathers had actually sold for 30,000 gold, his face went pale, emotional.

“Didn’t you say you were going to the Tower of Luminescence today?!”

“Now that I’m loaded, why would I bother with the Tower of Luminescence? I could practically raise you to adulthood on this money!”

He stared at me for a long moment with those deep, sea-blue eyes.

Then, without a word, he turned around and faced the other way—

and didn’t look back.

Hah. The kid was actually embarrassed. He probably hadn’t expected his feathers to be worth that much, huh?

…That’s what I thought, anyway.

But in the end, I still caved under Ruthfel’s formidable aura of silent guilt-tripping, and obediently made my way to the Tower of Luminescence the next day.

I’d long heard that the Academy of the Seventh and Divine Law were bitter rivals. So when I entered this campus with Caro, I was extra cautious.

Though I’d passed by it many times before, this was my first time actually stepping inside.

And once I got a real look at the interior, I realized this place was nothing like the Divine Law, or the Seventh Heaven, or even any other part of Heaven.

Gone were the Gothic and Greco-Roman elements, the solemn grandeur, the sacred austerity.

In their place: opulence, splendor, and an air of mystery that hung heavy over everything.

From lecture halls to prayer chambers to sanctified altars, every structure was overflowing with intricate arched embellishments, vast curving surfaces, romantic oil paintings, and baroque statuary.

Despite the obvious differences, it kept reminding me of the Baroque architecture that flourished during the 17th-century European Renaissance. That was when Italian popes adored this bold, luxurious, and almost libertine aesthetic—an era that, in many ways, propelled not only European art but the entire course of human civilization.

And here in the holy city of Shima, this kind of indulgent, rule-breaking architecture carried a distinct, almost jarring, sense of dissonance.

What was even more surreal, though, were the students themselves.

They were nothing like the typical angels. Each one dressed in flamboyant, exaggerated fashion, draped in asymmetrical gemstone chains, wielding weapons encrusted with ginormous diamonds. There was something extravagant, seductive, even decadently wicked, about them, and yet, no denying their overwhelming impact .

With all the colors flooding our vision, Caro and I naturally got lost again.

I wanted to figure things out myself with the map in hand, but Caro insisted on dragging me over to ask someone for directions.

A group of angels happened to be approaching from the other end of the corridor, and I, resigned, braced myself and stepped forward. I was already sighing inwardly, preparing to be ignored yet again, when one of them suddenly stopped,

“Hey, someone’s calling you. What, are your eyes growing out of the top of your head?”

The angel directly facing me came to a halt, blinked, and quickly said,

“Ah—sorry. Can I help you?”

“Do you know how to get to the Tower of Luminescence?”

“Now that’s a tough one,” said Angel A, glancing at Angel B. “You think I’d know?”

Angel B casually draped an arm over his shoulder.

“This guy’s an idiot. Doesn’t even read. I know the way.”

He pointed south.

“Go that way, take the second left. You’ll see a statue of Lord Samael. Head north from there. There’s a weapon forge nearby. Go two hundred more meters behind it, and you’ll be there.”

He spoke clearly and slowly.

But somehow, our brains still felt like mush.

Just as I was about to thank him and start feeling my way there, Angel B said,

“Tell you what, I’ll take you there. Come with me.”

He curled a finger, motioning us to follow, and set off briskly toward the direction of the Tower, Angel A trailing behind.

We finally caught up with them when Angel B turned to ask,

“You’re not students from the Seventh, are you?”

“We’re not,” I answered.

Caro, puffed up with pride, added,

“We’re from Divine Law.”

This guy has no filter whatsoever.

Usually when Divine Law students run into those from the Seventh, no one says anything outright, but they’re definitely ignored. To my surprise, neither of the angels made an excuse to leave.

Instead, they both frowned and said in unison,

“Why?”

“…Why what?”

Angel B: “Why would you pick Divine Law?”

Sometimes, when someone asks “why” about something you’re proud of, it stings more than if they’d just flat-out insulted you.

Just as Caro was about to launch into a painfully naïve explanation of how great Divine Law was, Angel B pointed toward a large statue in the lawn, and that finally distracted him.

“The hero of the Seventh, Lord Samael.”

The archangel’s face was marked with a serpent tattoo, a sword in hand, his expression solemn and majestic.

I’d just seen him a few days ago.

He didn’t look anything like that.

Maybe being around Lucifer for too long really changes you.

Angel B kept walking and motioned for us to follow.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re Isar, aren’t you?”

I froze, suddenly on guard, and looked at him cautiously.

“Don’t worry,” he said quickly. “I mean no harm. I just think you’re interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Yeah. The way you acted at Lord Metatron’s place the other day—very interesting.”

My mouth twitched slightly.

…Am I supposed to be touched?

I sacrificed my dignity for someone else’s entertainment?

Angel A chimed in, “Yeah, totally. A bunch of my friends wanted to meet you after that. Said if we ever go out, we have to bring you along—guaranteed you’d never be boring. Oh, look, here we are. Tower of Luminescence.”

I nodded furiously, thanking them over and over.

They smiled, waved it off, and made a swift, tactical retreat.

I was left standing there. Who was it that just said they wanted to get to know me? That memory disappeared fast.

Still, even though their erratic, fast-twitch way of thinking was a little overwhelming, and could probably make someone sensitive die of secondhand embarrassment—they were, surprisingly, not unlikeable at all.

Maybe all the angels here were like this?

The Tower of Luminescence was a long, dark-gold palace. The exterior was simple and clean, made of soft, flowing curves. But the interior was a burst of gold and vivid color, creating a striking contrast between the inside and outside.

The higher the tower rose, the lighter the colors became. By the time it connected with the upper reaches of Sancta Faylia, the structure gleamed in brilliant gold.

The area in front of the tower was bustling with people, but inside, everything was serene. As I stepped in, I could see my reflection clearly in the stained glass windows. The inner corridors were wide enough to hold hundreds at once. Each section of books occupied its own open hall, and at the entrance to every hall stood a statue of a renowned historical figure.

Every time I passed a statue, I paused to take a look. Some of them I recognized from history books. The ones I didn’t, I ignored. Except for Reynor.

His statue stood quietly along the corridor, a mural of him in battle stretching out behind.

I couldn’t explain why, but this rather slender, handsome man instantly drew my attention.

In the statue, his right hand held a sword, the tip resting on the ground. His left, a scale. It actually seemed to sway slightly.

His chin was tilted just a little upward, short curls resting around a face as upright as his posture.

The mural behind showed him mid-combat, wielding a colossal nine-head long, one-head wide broadsword, locked in battle with demons.

The inscription below read:

Reynor Arterra

Archangel of Fire, Divine Swordbearer

(Berduth 4775 – Berduth 7694)

The first Seraph personally created by God in the Age of Redemption. He led the Angelic Punishment Division in the Second War of Light and Darkness. For his extraordinary merit, he was promoted to First Commander in the Third War, becoming Supreme General of all three celestial legions.

In Berduth 6731, his wife gave birth to a child whose divine power was like that of Archangel Lucifer.

Reynor is regarded as one of the most accomplished angels in Celestial history.

In Berduth 7694, Reynor and his wife Alice both fell in the Fourth War of Light and Darkness.

Known in life for his humility and grace, he was deeply beloved by God.

“That’s Michael’s dad. Back then, his status in Heaven was even higher than Lord Metatron’s. Too bad he died so early.”

“Lived almost three thousand Berduths, and that counts as early…?” Staring at the years measured in Berduth, I suddenly felt a crushing pressure.

That’s over two million years.

“Compared to us, that kind of lifespan sounds like a myth. But for archangels, three thousand Berduths is actually really short.”

Caro started counting on his fingers, rattling them off:

“Lord Lucifer was born in the final year of Berduth 999 . Lord Metatron, Berduth 1289. Lord Raphael, Berduth 2010… They’re all well over six or seven thousand by now. Even Michael—who wasn’t even an adult yet and had disappeared for over a thousand years, even he’s lived almost two thousand Berduths…”

“Michael became an archangel before reaching adulthood?”

“Nope. And that’s exactly why everyone was so shocked. Normally, a Seraph would be well into middle age by the time they hit two thousandth Berduths. But Michael grew extremely slowly. Even before he vanished, he still looked like a youngster.

He continued, “And everyone knows, the slower an angel matures, the stronger they tend to be. There’s only one other angel who was still considered underage at two thousandth Berduths—Lord Lucifer himself. That’s why Michael’s kind of a legend in his own way. He’s lived so long…”

“Does that mean archangels are immortal?”

“…You’re only realizing that now?”

Caro rubbed his chin. “Why do you think the competition up there is so brutal? It’s about securing eternal life.”

“Among them, only Lord Raphael wasn’t born a Seraph. From what I’ve heard, he didn’t even start as a Throne. So for him to claw his way up to where he is now, that’s why people actually respect him the most.”

I had no real interest in Raphael’s gossip.

Silently, I made my way to the Celestial History Archives.

The textbook we used in class only covered the final volume, mostly culture and accomplishments. Our teacher had mentioned the Wars of Light and Darkness before, but only as part of the historical eras.

Celestial history is divided into six eras: the Age of Chaos, of Creation, of Divine Messengers, of Division, of Redemption, and the current Age of Gold.

The Wars of Light and Darkness happened only four times.

The first broke out during the Age of Division.

The second and third during the Age of Redemption.

And the fourth in the current Age of Gold.

Heaven won every time— though the third was the only one fought to a draw.

Heaven’s history is so long, this palace has been expanded countless times. It took me nearly an hour to find the book I was looking for.

Just as I reached out to grab it, another hand slipped in at the same moment.

It was a beautifully-shaped hand, gloved in white, with delicate silver chains draped across.

Instinctively, I glanced over at Caro. His eyes were as wide as eggs.

“You wanted this book?”

The voice behind me was gentle, low, soft—

but it hit me, scrambling all coherent thought.

I turned around and nodded vigorously.

Lucifer pulled the book from the shelf and placed it gently in my hands.

“You can have it first.”

Running into Lucifer at the banquet and encountering him here felt like two entirely different worlds.

My heart shot straight into my throat, and my words came out all tangled.

“Th-thank you. Thank you, Your Highness.”

Lucifer returned the book he’d been browsing to the shelf, then smiled lightly.

“No need.”

Translator’s note:

Thank you, Meg, for reading and being so supportive :D. Happy birthday!

Author: Tav Tav

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