Mammon pursed his lips and swung his scythe down in a diagonal arc. With a rumbling roar, the ground cracked open in scattered lines that rushed straight toward my feet. I immediately reversed my grip on the steel spear and thrust it into the ground. Flames spiraled down the shaft and sank into the cracks, halting the rupture as though smashing into a mountainside.
Mammon’s curled hair fluttered past the red rose as he charged forward with the scythe in one hand. Though I’d tried to rid the spear of magical residue, red firelight still coiled faintly around it. Gripping the shaft, I hurled it toward him with full force.
Startled, Mammon dodged to the side. I seized the opening, spreading my wings and soaring behind him, swinging the spear at his waist. He couldn’t dodge in time and took the blow hard, staggering sideways—only to immediately pivot and bring the scythe down.
His defense wasn’t as weak as I’d thought.
I raised the spear in time. With a clang, sparks burst in the air. I braced the spear against his strike, gradually pushing upward with increasing force. The steel and the scythe screeched against each other. I could hear our ragged breathing.
Mammon pressed down, little fangs biting into his lower lip. My hands ached gripping the shaft—really, his strength was monstrous.
Up and down we wrestled for a while, until I shoved him off with a sudden blow. A wave of low murmurs swept through the crowd.
Mammon took two steps back, unfazed, lips pressed tight. He raised the scythe again and slashed it down. I flared all six wings and glided back and upward, avoiding the scythe as it embedded deep into the ground.
Fighting an archdevil in a drawn-out duel was a bad idea. I needed to end this quickly.
Scythes are the slowest of weapons. Anyone bold enough to wield one must be quick on their feet. Mammon’s speed rivaled mine. My own weapon, however, while clumsy, looked featherlight in comparison.
If I could strike first and dodge, I’d win.
Mammon looked up at me, teeth tinged red. He drew the scythe from the earth with fluid grace—just like slicing vegetables. I had barely landed when his next slash came flying in.
This time, I didn’t dodge. I reversed my grip and thrust the spear toward him.
He swung his scythe at me in return.
The spearhead closed in on his right shoulder—and that’s when I saw it.
His teeth, bright red. Blood trailing from his lips.
I froze.
That was from earlier—
The spear was about to pierce him. I pulled back hard.
The force I’d put into the strike rebounded. I staggered backward, nearly falling.
Mammon stared, wide-eyed with shock.
But it was too late.
The scythe sank deep into my side, cutting to the bone.
My steel spear flew from my grasp. I let out a hoarse cry and dropped to my knees, bones grinding.
Mammon rushed forward to catch me, his expression stricken, hands trembling.
I remembered when Hanniah was very young. Once he’d been scratched by Metatron’s gryphon. Metatron had carried him inside in his arms. My mind had gone blank. I could be torn to pieces and not care, but Hanniah—even a scratch on him hurt me to the core.
And this—this felt exactly the same.
I wiped the blood from the corner of Mammon’s mouth. My fingers shook so much I missed several times.
“Mammon… I’m sorry.”
He frowned deeply. As he opened his mouth, more blood trickled down.
In the distance, I could hear Lucifer shouting, but I couldn’t make out what he said.
……
……
When I regained consciousness and tried to open my eyes, a sharp light forced them shut. I slowly opened them again. And found myself surrounded by gold and silver, gemstones gleaming in every color imaginable. Not far off, a black crystal table bore a pyramid of silver trays, each stacked with ever-larger black pearls. The topmost one left me speechless. It was huge, almost the size of a crystal orb. I couldn’t imagine the mollusk that had birthed it. Must’ve been as big as an octopus.
Behind the trays were piles of gold coins, interspersed with glittering emeralds, diamonds, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and rings. Smoke billowed beyond the coin piles, where someone moved with steady rhythm.
It was Mammon, wearing a monocle.
Of course. Only Mammon could turn a royal bedroom into this kind of gaudy nightmare.
He sat up, pipe in his left hand and magnifying glass in the right, scrutinizing the stones on his desk.
At the bedside lay a stack of newspapers. On top was the Yura Daily, dated January 5th. I didn’t even need to look hard to guess the headline: “Dark Knight or Disgrace? Why the Tournament Was Cut Short.”
There were photos, too. One showed Mammon leaning against his scythe, curls and coat tails fluttering in the wind, face heavy with thought. Another showed Lucifer in the crowd, furious, finger pointing mid-accusation. Lilith was silent, lips pursed.
The article claimed that I had clearly been winning, yet inexplicably held back at the end. Mammon couldn’t be called a true victor. Some even accused us of colluding—that Mammon had arranged for me to throw the match, but my acting had been too poor, which is why Lucifer halted the duel. Others went further: that Mammon’s past victories had all been staged, the demon race merely playing along. And that I, the visiting Archangel, had refused to lose with grace even in a “friendly exhibition.”
I flipped to another newspaper, also dated January 5th, this time The Ebu Post. As expected, the farther a city was from the Demon King’s domain, the more brazen its writing. The headline unabashedly read: Ambiguity Sparks Rumors Between Mammon and Michael in Arena — Are Their Relations Truly Innocent?
I skipped the article entirely.
Next was a tabloid: Did Lucifer Suppress the Truth? Scandal Between His Son and the Archangel?
The first paragraph claimed that the initial batch of Rhodheoga Times was recalled by Lucifer less than thirty minutes after distribution. All other newspapers across the Hells were withdrawn and forcibly revised within four hours. The second paragraph began: Mammon, notorious for his flirtations, dallies with other Satans’ daughters and now the Archangel? At that point, I had no energy to keep reading.
Below it was the revised Rhodheoga Times edition for January 5th. It was the traditional type of report, plainly stating the duel ended in a draw due to severe injuries on both sides.
I shifted, preparing to look through other pages, when I suddenly heard a chime. Mammon had stood up and accidentally triggered some hidden mechanism near a gemstone. What happened next was something I’d never seen in my life: an enormous mountain of gold and jewels collapsing like dominoes.
Mammon reacted quickly, hugging his silver tiered tray of black pearls and even bracing the largest one with his pointed chin. Only when the entire mountain had finished falling did he move again, setting the pearl gently and striding toward me with his monocle.
“Forget that trash,” he said, snatching the newspapers, crumpling them, and tossing them aside.
“It’s alright. Are you okay?”
Mammon blinked. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”
I propped myself up. My tailbone ached a little. “Are your injuries serious?”
“Not really. That precious son of yours patched me up. Angels really are walking first-aid kits.”
“Hanniah’s recovery ability is average in Heaven. The real medical kit is Raphael. He can instantly return an army of injured angels to peak condition within a radius of thirty or forty meters.”
“Save the Raphael sermon — I know how powerful he is. Let’s check your injuries first. You’ve been unconscious for eight days.”
“What? Eight days? Then today’s the 12th?!”
“Exactly. Hanniah’s been frantic, your angels nearly went mad. Even my dad came to see you many times. How’s that for prestige?”
I nodded, slightly stunned.
“You missed a lot of fun events. But tomorrow’s opera and the Day of the Fall gala are still left, the most distinctive celebrations. If you’re feeling better, I’ll take you.”
Looking at his energetic state, I couldn’t help hugging him and patting his back. “Mammon, I’m really glad you’re okay.”
Mammon paused, then softly bit my neck.
I pulled away instantly. “What are you doing?”
Mammon grinned wickedly. “A love bite.”
“Behave!”
“Truth is, you beat me in the arena. A lot of people know. Demons love strength — you know that. If we were together now, no one would object.”
“That’s not happening.”
Mammon suddenly shoved me onto the bed. “You held back in the fight because you didn’t want to hurt me. Why keep pretending?”
I wanted to punch him — but in that moment, a flash of black light — and Mammon… shrank.
Now just a small figure with fluttering wings, he lay sprawled on my chest in a starfish pose, looking up with exaggerated innocence. “Your Highness, could you hit a child like this?”
His tiny fangs peeked out, and his ruby-red eyes swirled in mock tears.
My raised hand softened mid-air.
This brat… who taught him this trick?
Mammon curled into a ball and began rolling across the bed, throwing a full tantrum. Then came the sound of a crowd approaching. He immediately flipped upright, hair messy like a wild kitten. I grabbed him by the armpits and placed him on my lap. He squinted with a smile, flashing two pearly little fangs, then dove into my arms to hide.
He reminded me of Lucifer when he turned into little Ruthfel.
But Ruthfel… wouldn’t put his hands in someone else’s pants…
Smack!
Mammon let out a dramatic wail and flopped onto my chest, sobbing in a babyish voice — without tears, of course — and kept peeking toward the door.
I looked too.
Lucifer and Lilith were approaching with a train of attendants.
Lucifer stopped at the door. Lilith entered first.
She lifted Mammon into her arms and sat him on her hip. “Come with Mama. Your father has something to discuss with Lord Michael.”
“I want to hear too,” Mammon said.
“I’m going shopping. Come with me?”
Mammon nodded, then asked, “What are you buying?”
Lilith didn’t reply until when they were halfway out the door, “Books.”
Mammon instantly twisted to escape. Lilith yanked his leg back and held him in place. He flailed his arms and tried to jump; she grabbed a hand and slapped his cheek. The sharp sound echoed through the room. Silence fell.
All the attendants magically left too. Now it was just me and Lucifer.
After a long pause, Lucifer slowly came over and sat beside me. “Are your injuries better?”
“Almost. At least, the pain’s mostly gone.”
“I really am sorry about all this. I didn’t expect things to blow up. I’ve managed to suppress most of the reports but the rumors about you and Mammon might linger a while.”
“Me and Mammon?”
“You pulled your blow. Naturally people assume you have feelings for him.” Lucifer fell silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “Some people are saying unpleasant things.”
“Let them talk. My reputation in the Demon Realm has never been great.”
“Have you eaten?”
I shook my head.
He gestured to someone outside, then turned back to me. “Mammon acts like he doesn’t care and is very proud, so his words can sting. But he’s known about you since he was little. His admiration for you isn’t any less than Hanniah’s. If you don’t mind… think of him as another son.”
I stared down, caught off guard. “Mm.”
If he hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve forgotten. Mammon is Lucifer and Lilith’s son.
It’s almost ironic.
Lucifer wants me to like the child of him and Lilith.
Lucifer smiled slightly. “Then I’ll thank you on his behalf.”
“You’re too kind, Your Majesty.” I glanced outside. “Didn’t you have something to talk about?”
Just then, a maid brought in a bowl of soup, steaming gently. Lucifer took it, stirred it with a spoon, and said:
“I just wanted to see how you were. Letting Heaven’s most important envoy get injured… it’s an unforgivable mistake for the Demon Realm.”
“It’s fine. Duels come with injuries. Just… the tailbone is a brutal spot. Miserable.”
Lucifer paused mid-stir. “It hurts a lot?”
I waved a hand. “No, just… a little. Just hurts more than the rest.”
“We’ve been using magic to keep you stable. Eating solid food now would hurt your stomach. Black grape soup is best.”
“Smells great.”
“These grapes are a specialty of the Yura Tribe; small, but far more delicious than common ones.” He lifted a spoonful to my lips.
“No, no, Your Majesty, I’ll do it myself.”
“Take it as me atoning for the Vice Regent’s injury. After all, I am the Demon King, and the one who personally received you.” He tried to cool the soup a little but couldn’t blow on it, so he just swirled it in the spoon—then brought it back to my lips. “Open up.”
He was always like this. Every time I let myself expect something, he would swiftly shatter the dream.
His family had already taught me to keep my distance. And yet, even if it’s a lie, is it so difficult to show concern for me, just once, as Lucifer, as a friend? Every word out of his mouth is “Demon King,” “Vice Regent,” “Heaven,” “Hell,” “divine race,” “demon race”… I’ve had enough.
“Your Majesty, I’d really rather do it myself.” I grabbed the bowl from him.
His fingertips were slightly cold, brushing my palm.
I panicked a little, and in that moment my grip faltered. The soup sloshed onto my hand, burning me so badly I nearly dropped the whole bowl.
“Careful!” Lucifer quickly took the bowl back and placed it on the nightstand. He used his own palm to wipe at my scalded hand.
“It’s fine. My skin’s thick.” I pulled my hand back, body tense with nerves. “Really, I’m fine.”
“Let me.” He began stirring the soup again, slowly and deliberately. “Once the Day of the Fall festivities end, you’re leaving, aren’t you?”
“I know Your Majesty wishes me gone soon. I’ll contact Heaven shortly.”
“What I said then was in anger. Don’t take it to heart. No matter the standpoint, I genuinely hope you’ll stay.”
I laughed dryly. “How many standpoints does Your Majesty have?”
Lucifer fed me a spoonful of soup. “As the leader of the Demon Realm, I naturally hope that the wise and capable Vice Regent of Heaven will remain.”
Wise and capable?
My dry laugh turned into a snort. I nearly spit out the soup.
Lucifer fed me another spoonful. “As both a rival and a friend to the Archangel Michael, I also hope you’ll stay.”
“Rival and friend?”
“They’re not contradictory. On the battlefield we’re enemies; off it, we can be friends—can’t we?”
“I suppose.”
Lucifer paused for a moment. He lowered his eyes as if staring at something unseen. His gaze seemed darker than usual, his voice softer and deeper.
“And as the former lover of Lord Michael, I still want you to stay.”
I jerked my head up, staring at him!
“I apologize for what I did back then,” Lucifer said with a bitter smile. “I couldn’t handle being betrayed by the one I loved. I just couldn’t let go… I really liked you very much, which is why I acted so rashly.”
My mind went completely blank.
“I understand.” I forced a smile, my thoughts in chaos. “It’s… not hot anymore.”
“Michael, you were my first love. Everything back then was wonderful. I’ll never forget it.”
Lucifer finally looked at me. In that instant, the jeweled brilliance of Mammon’s bedroom dulled to gray—I could only see his eyes, deeper and more complicated than I remembered.
He opened his mouth slowly and said, “You know… I used to be so arrogant. I thought that even if I fell, even if I married someone else, you’d just stay heartbroken. I never expected you’d end up with Metatron so quickly, and even had Hanniah. At the time, I really hated you.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. I could only listen as he continued, his voice calm:
“But I forgot… we were only together for two years. Compared to those two years, your family means much more. Politically, we may be opponents. But personally… I only want you to be happy.”
I nodded. My fingers had gone cold.
Finally, I heard his voice again, deep and sonorous like a cello:
“So… though my blessing comes late, I still want to say—I wish for you and Metatron, lasting happiness.”
Lucifer was a man of great measure. He had already forgiven me. At a time like this, I should also bless him and Lilith, and should respond with the same gracious smile.
But—
I can’t do it.
No matter what.
I can’t.
Those two years may have been just fleeting chapters of pleasant memories for him.
But they are my everything.
The brightest time of my entire life.
Radiant, unforgettable, and now excruciating.
At last, I couldn’t hold back. I blurred out: “Whether Metatron and I last has nothing to do with you.”
Lucifer froze.
“I’ll accept blessings from anyone else, but not yours. You want me to wish you and Lilith well? Not a chance!” I shoved him hard. The bowl in his hand shattered on the floor. “Get out. I don’t want to see you again!”
Lucifer glanced at the broken pieces on the ground, then looked back at me in shock. “Mi—”
“I told you to get out!” My voice cracked, eyes burning. “You came here to laugh at me, didn’t you? You knew all along, you know everything! Get out, just leave!”
But Lucifer didn’t leave. Actually, he sat there motionless, like a statue.
His once-indifferent eyes began to shift.
I saw it: emotion rising, slowly, unmistakably. It might have been surprise—or… hope.
But before he could speak, Lilith’s voice called in from outside: “Lucifer? I heard something break. Are you two alright?”
Moments later, she returned, carrying the three-head length version of Mammon in her arms.
Lucifer stood. “We’re fine. I’ve finished speaking with Lord Michael. Let’s let him rest.”
Without another glance at me, he turned and left with them.
Long after he’d gone, I collapsed back onto the bed, staring at the distant cathedral outside the window.
Lucifer said that our past was his wonderful memory, and he would never forget it.
And what could possibly be more valuable than words like that?
Father in Heaven… I have received your punishment. Please forgive my sins. Please grant me redemption, let me walk free from this millennia-long trial…
Because now, when I look at Lucifer—
I can’t even feel joy anymore.
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
