Flying into Sancta Faylia with Hanniah, I watched as he cradled the History of the Three Realms in his arms and slowed the beat of his wings.
“Father, my favorite era in the history of Heaven is the Golden Age. It’s a pity I was born at its very end.”
The fall of Lucifer marked the close of the Golden Age, ushering in the current Age of Silver. Though Hanniah had never witnessed Heavenly at its most glorious, he still shone brighter than any gem.
“There were so many more angels back then. The moment you entered Sancta Faylia, you’d see the skies filled with golden carriages, pegasi, and unicorn cavalries. Back then, many of the warrior-angels had not yet fallen. On Creation Day, they loved to cast magic orbs into the darkness above and shatter them mid-air with their weapons, raining down trails of light…”
Hanniah’s eyes gleamed with longing. “That must have been beautiful… I wish I could’ve seen it.”
“You will someday. Son, study well. The future of Heaven rests with your generation.”
Hanniah made a face, half-pouting. “You’re Heaven’s most beautiful angel, and yet you always talk like an old man.”
“There are angels far better-looking than me—you just haven’t met them.”
“You mean Lord Ruthfel, don’t you?”
Ruthfel. That name—so familiar, yet so distant. “-fel” or “-phael” was a divine suffix, a title granted by God himself, reserved only for the highest-ranking Archangels. For most, it was a mark of supreme honor. But Ruthfel had cast it away, renaming himself Lucifer. After his fall, all records referred to his past name—Ruthfel—to preserve the image of his former loyalty and to distinguish the Archangel from the present King of the Demons.
It’s said you can often guess an angel’s age by the name they use for the former Archangel.
Recalling what he once looked like, I spoke softly, “Yes. He was the only angel in history to bear the Seraphic Wings of Light. The only one who carried five-sixths of God’s divine strength… the only one who dared to challenge God Himself.”
“I saw his portrait in a book. He’s very handsome—but I still think you look better.”
I gave him a firm pat on the back. “You little brat, don’t make such biased judgments. In person, he had an overwhelming presence.”
“Now who’s being biased? You must’ve really admired him!”
This child, gentle as he was, could be stubborn like a little armored tank. I shook my head. “He and I were practically from different eras. Admiration doesn’t quite describe it.”
But it was more than admiration. Back then, he was my entire world.
Not far ahead stood a large building trimmed in deep crimson and gold, enclosed by high metal fences. Behind the broad central hall, a slender spire rose skyward. The lawn was carefully groomed, an endless carpet of green over which doves fluttered freely. Only Metatron would dare build something so exotic and bold in the heart of Sancta Faylia.
I reached for Hanniah’s hand, preparing to enter Metatron’s residence. But just then, I saw Raphael walking toward us, his eyes downcast. A sheer veil covered his golden hair, and the moment he looked up, his eyes flashed with something like alarm.
“Lord Michael… you’ve returned?”
“It’s been a while. I wonder if God will rebuke me.”
“Don’t worry. He isn’t angry.”
“Good.” I glanced at him, then at Metatron’s house. “You’re here to see Metatron too?”
Raphael smiled—his lips always pale, nearly colorless. “Yes. We were discussing the matter of sending another divine envoy to the Demon Realm.”
“Didn’t the bookstore papers say Gabriel’s visit was a success? Why send another?”
Raphael shook his head. “Lucifer treated Gabriel well, but sent her away shortly after.”
I knew Gabriel’s temperament. However fierce she might be on the outside, when it came to politics, she became even more reserved than Raphael himself. She would never be careless with a diplomatic mission like that.
I frowned. “Truthfully, the Demon Realm was never one for diplomacy. Demons always solve their problems by force, not by negotiation.”
“But it was Lucifer who accepted the visit. He’s not one to waste time. If he welcomed the envoy, then he must’ve had a reason.”
I paused for a moment. “I’ll talk to Metatron.”
Just as I was about to walk off, Raphael called out behind me,
“Please wait, Your Hightness.”
I turned back and looked at him.
Raphael glanced at the angel guarding the door, then looked back at me. “Your Highness…” He paused, then asked, “You’ve been in the human world recently?”
“Yes.”
“So… was it fun down there?”
“Human life moves fast. Twenty years is enough time for many things to change.”
That was odd. Raphael was never one to ask such questions. He probably knew just as much about the human world as I did, and he preferred discovering things firsthand. Why bring this up now?
“I’ll tell you about it another time. For now, I need to speak with Metatron.”
The moment I stepped into Metatron’s chamber, I saw him lying shirtless on the bed, with Iophiel tending to him nearby. Without turning around, he snapped impatiently, “I told you to leave. What is it now?”
I raised a brow. “Looks like Lord Metatron isn’t in the best of moods. I’ll come back another time, then.”
Metatron turned abruptly, stunned. Then, without even throwing on a shirt, he bolted over and pulled me into a hug.
“You were chasing Raphael off again…” I didn’t finish my sentence before his mouth closed in—I quickly pushed him away. “Wait! I came to ask you something—ugh… Hanniah is right here!” I pried his hand off my waistband and looked behind me, only to see Hanniah looking sympathetic toward Metatron. “Father, Heavenly Father missed you.” He called Metatron Heavenly Father to distinguish between the two of us.
Metatron clung to me tightly. “If we fight again next time, I’ll turn myself into a steamed bun.”
I blinked. “We… fought? Why?”
“You don’t remember?” Metatron sighed and patted my head. “All the better. Let’s pretend it never happened.”
It probably wasn’t anything important, so I didn’t press.
“I heard Gabriel got sent back from the Demon Realm.” I shifted his blanket aside and leaned against the bedpost. “Why?”
Metatron threw on a robe, summoned someone to bring me food, and plopped down beside me. “Even Gabriel herself doesn’t know. She said Lucifer barely met with her and acted very aloof.”
“I really don’t get what His Majesty the Demon King is thinking.” Iophiel, acting like a maid with tea in hand, muttered, “Now that Lord Michael’s returned, everyone’s hoping you’ll go to the Demon Realm as envoy…”
Metatron cut in, “Out of the question! We can’t trouble our little Michael with something like that.”
“But if we don’t show some sincerity, won’t the demons keep attacking Heaven?” Hanniah said. “Then even more innocent lower angels will become casualties.”
“I’m sure everyone’s thought about that. But I’m not the right one to go.” I leaned back, flipping casually through the paper. “Lucifer isn’t as cryptic as you think. Sure, he dismissed Gabriel, but he still allowed the visit. He didn’t create a scene. That clearly means he’s open to negotiation. And he must know the demons can only bully two-winged angels for a day or two at most. They’re not built for aerial warfare. If he sends those photosensitive archdevils riding scrawny black dragons with altitude sickness, Hanniah—you could wipe them out with a single squad.”
Hanniah didn’t look convinced, but he still straightened his spine, visibly bolstered.
Metatron shrugged. “Little Michael, underestimating Lucifer will get you burned.”
I finally looked up from the paper. “And what, you expect me to go to the Demon Realm, bow and scrape before him, beg him to spare us, and hand over some astronomical bribe for peace?”
“Haha, fair point. Best you stay as far away as possible. Otherwise, you’ll end up like on Earth—chasing after all those girlfriends only to get dumped.”
“I’m clearly no match for you when it comes to wooing women.” I pulled off one of my white gloves.
“Obviously. You must admire me so much.”
“I do. I admire you deeply. In fact…” I tilted my head, using my gloved hand to press down on his wrist, and whispered into his ear,
“Tonight, to honor that admiration… you’re the bottom.”
…………
……
At night, I returned to the Hall of Splendor, my mind still echoing with the image of Metatron’s dazed gaze, his arms clinging to my neck, and that husky voice muttering between ragged breaths, “Yes, yes, I was wrong… You’re not little Michael…” I looked out the window with a wry smile, not even sure why I’d been so forceful with him. So forceful it felt like I was trying to hide how fragile I really was underneath.
I rested at the same window corner, in the same spot, staring at the same stretch of the Milky Way below. Sleep eluded me. Beneath those stars was the Red Sea, and beneath the Red Sea, a new world. At the very depths of that world… lived that person.
They say habit is a frightening thing. Be with someone long enough, and even without love, you grow used to their presence. Likewise, lose someone for long enough, and even if the thought of them brings searing pain, you slowly grow used to that too.
I wondered. Did he ever think of me?
My long hair slipped over my white robes, the pearl-red fabric shimmering faintly with gold.
Before me, the ancient, resplendent imperial capital stood etched with the weathering of a thousand years. Every corner breathed the weight of time.
Thousands of years of memories. Thousands of years of wind and frost.
…………
Unable to sleep, I opened the summoning book Hanniah had given me. On the inside cover, in neat script, it read: Recite the incantation to summon an unknown demon.
I read aloud as instructed:
“O blazing inferno from the depths of Hell,
By the name of darkness—I summon thee forth!”
Thick black smoke immediately billowed out of the book.
Startled, I instinctively set the book down and reached for my holy sword.
The smoke thickened rapidly. Dark violet flames burst out, consuming the book into a pile of ash.
Gripping my flaming sword, I readied myself for battle.
As the purple fire ebbed, a figure slowly emerged from the haze.
Before I could make out his form, I heard his voice—high-pitched and tender, dragging his words out in a whiny tone:
“I told you, I’m busy! Out, out—”
Any demon that speaks fluently is a higher-class entity. Possibly even nobility. I raised my guard.
Then, as the last wisp of smoke dispersed at his feet, I nearly dropped my sword.
A child floated midair with his back to me, one leg crossed over the other. He wore tight black clothes with a V-neck laced up by leather straps. His short black shorts ended at a pair of black boots adorned with dragon scales. Around his wrist clinked a thick silver bracelet, and on his back, two tiny skeletal wings buzzed like a bee’s. His head was wrapped in a white bath towel—he must’ve just finished bathing. Though I couldn’t see his face, the pale neck and barely distinguishable towel-toned skin told me the child was probably as fair as he was adorable.
Yet in his small arms, he cradled a massive scythe, easily three times his own height. Not that he paid it much mind: his one hand held a long black smoking pipe with carved patterns, the other a fist-sized black pearl. He puffed a smoke ring, kicked his little legs, and rested the scythe lazily on his opposite shoulder.
Suddenly, the bath towel slipped from his head, revealing a wild mop of hair. Even with that unkempt bird’s nest, his voluminous hair couldn’t hide the pointy ears, ears pierced with seven tiny earrings.
The child turned sharply. His fire-red eyes locked onto me. Slowly, his mouth parted to reveal two tiny fangs.
No doubt about it. I had summoned a demon.
If you used this child’s photo on a Heaven Academy exam, the question would probably read:
“What species of demon is shown in the image?”
A. Archdevil
B. Lesser Devil
C. Fallen Angel
D. Dominator
E. A hybrid of Fallen Angel and Lesser Devil
F. None of the above
Unlike the angelic hierarchy, which relied on neat wing-count distinctions, the demon world’s diversity made things far more complicated.
“Dominator” referred to a military rank, not a biological species—so D was immediately out. He had skeletal wings, so he couldn’t be a fallen angel—C gone too. Most students would debate between B and E. But the lack of a devil’s tail or horns, and that refined, pretty face—paired with his effortless handling of a scythe no low-level imp could lift—would sway most to choose E: a hybrid.
—Such a low-level mistake, yet it’s misled countless young angels, leaving them clueless how they died when facing such a creature.
This child wasn’t a fallen angel, nor a lesser devil, nor a hybrid.
He was a pureblood Archdevil.
Though they all fall under the category of devils, Archdevils and Lesser devils aren’t distinguished by size. they’re entirely different species. Lesser devils are weak, only capable of casting low-grade curses. Archdevils, on the other hand, don’t use magic at all, but their physical strength…
I glanced at the scythe, easily over a hundred pounds, then at the young Archdevil clutching it. My grip on the sword tightened.
The little devil swung the pearl in his hand and shouted angrily, “An angel…? A Seraph?!” He stuffed the pearl into his tunic and lifted the scythe from his shoulder. “You came to Rhodheoga yourself? How would you like to be eaten, huh? Raw or roasted?”
Something about his face felt eerily familiar. I couldn’t help but ask, “What’s your name?”
“You dare interrogate me? Look where you are! Coming here, you’d better be ready to… to…” He paused, glancing around at his surroundings. His pale face went even paler. “No….what is this place?!”
He ruffled his messy hair, let out a furious cry, and swung the scythe at me. A child wielding a weapon three times his size. Honestly, it was hard to tell whether he was swinging the scythe or the scythe was swinging him. I raised my sword to parry. The impact knocked him back, and the scythe clattered to the floor with a violent crash. He landed flat on his back, dazed, then looked down at his small hands in shock. “No… This can’t be. I… I’ve shrunk?!”
I swiftly cast a binding spell and leveled my blade at him. “Tell me your name.”
He looked up at me. His face was round, his eyes even rounder, and they took up almost half his face. Crimson irises, slanted at the corners. A giant blood-red rose tattoo bloomed across one cheek. The more I stared, the more he reminded me of someone…
“I’m warning you, don’t talk to me like that! Where have you brought me?! I’ll have you know I am one of the Seventy-Two Pillars of Solomon—wait. You’re… Michael?!”
“So you do know me.”
“I—I’m in Sancta Faylia?” He darted a glance out the window, then looked behind me at the Thrones gathered nearby. His skeletal wings tensed. “You coward! Too afraid to face me on the battlefield, so you summoned me here to ambush me?!”
In truth, none of the angels present were soldiers; most had never even seen devil’s blood. But to devils, “angels” were synonymous with “lethal enemies.” Just as I instinctively reached for my sword when encountering demons, they always assumed angels wanted them dead.
I sighed. “I have no interest in killing you. My son bought me a summoning book. I got curious, tested it out, and summoned you.”
“A summoning book with odds of less than one in ten million pulling me out? Who do you think you’re fooling?!”
“Facts are facts. You’re here. But if you’re unwilling, fine—just promise me one thing, and the contract dissolves. That’s a rule set by the Infernal Code. Don’t give me that look.”
He slowly stood. “Then lift the seal on my hands.”
I released the binding spell.
Immediately, he dove for his scythe, flared his wings, and charged through the air straight at me. I wasn’t fast enough—his blade nicked my arm and blood spilled down. I countered with a strike that knocked his weapon aside, then slapped him so hard he flew into the floor.
He lay there, immediately about to cry. “You hit me! You hit me! Not even my parents hit me!”
The angels in the hall surged forward in alarm. I waved them back and approached. As soon as I got close, he lunged again with the scythe.
This time, I was ready. I twisted his wrist and pinned him to the floor.
His red eyes blazed with defiance. “Shameless Michael! I’ve wanted to kill you for so long! Just wait till I’m back to full power. Then fight me like a real man!”
The angels behind me bristled with outrage, but I raised a hand and said sternly, “Who’s more shameless here, striking from the shadows not once, but twice?”
Pinned beneath me, he refused to yield. “As if anyone can beat you in shamelessness! You think you’d be Archangel if you weren’t so damn shameless?!”
I was starting to get annoyed. Resisting the urge to smack him, I asked again, “Who are your parents?”
“I don’t rely on my parents!” he snapped. “You think all devils are like angels? Always yapping about ‘Mommy this, Daddy that’. You bunch of milk-dribbling weaklings!”
If there were once Furious Powers, now we had a Furious Devil.
I said each word slowly: “Best not try to provoke me. Or you won’t live to see tomorrow.”
“That’s not a fair win!” he shouted.
“Are you signing the contract or not? If not, I’ll take your wings, your hands, and your feet, then hurl you back to the Inferno.”
The devil child narrowed his eyes. “Name your condition.”
“Take me to the Demon Realm. No one is to find out.”
“Fine. Let me go.”
“If you attack again, I won’t go easy next time.”
He nodded. I released him.
First thing he did was scurry over to a corner and pick up the black pearl he’d dropped, clutching it to his chest like a treasure. It made a big lump beneath his tiny tunic. Then he gathered his scythe and his ornate smoking pipe, patting down his clothes. His short, tousled hair was glossy black, curling wildly, framing a face so cute that, if not for those sharp brows, I might have mistaken him for a little girl.
He glanced around at the angels nearby, then tossed his scythe into the air. A swirl of dark violet mist enveloped it, and it began to float, suspended in place. He flapped his wings and hopped onto the scythe, bouncing as it hovered. With his index finger, he steadied the pipe across three fingers and pressed it in place with his thumb. The pipe had no bowl, long and narrow, half the length of his arm. He held out his other index finger, lit a purple flame at the tip, and expertly set it alight. As he inhaled, white smoke streamed from his nose, wrapping his head in a fog.
“If you want to go to the Demon Realm, first get me out of this disgusting place.”
“Your condition?”
“You come with me to the Rhodheoga masquerade ball. And you tell everyone you’re a woman.”
“Gabriel is a lady. Ask her.”
He flicked the pipe, letting the ash fall like petals on the icy crystal floor. “Between you and Gabriel, who outranks whom? Besides, her speech reeks of Celestial dialect—I can even tell she’s from Sancta Faylia. How is she supposed to pass for a devil? Lord Michael, I never leave room for negotiation, and I hope you’ll stop dragging your feet.”
I considered it, then nodded. “Fine. I agree.”
“One masquerade ball in exchange for key Demon Realm intelligence. Pretty good deal, right?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
He smiled. The rose petals tattooed on his cheek looked so lifelike, they almost seemed to give off a seductive fragrance. “Heaven’s already finished. Even if you had all our secrets, you’d never catch up. So we, simply, aren’t afraid.”
I frowned slightly but didn’t respond. Instead, I called for a snow-white cloak and hood. Wrapping him up, I lifted him into my arms.
Startled, he shouted, “What are you doing?! Put me down!”
“If you don’t want to be torn apart the moment we leave, don’t show your face. As for your scythe, I’ll carry it.” I picked it up. It was heavy.
He stared at the scythe in surprise, then squinted at me. “Why would the strongest angel in Heaven shrink me down? Are you afraid of me?”
I pressed his head into the cloak and took to the sky. “High-class devils, like high-class angels, shrink in size when exposed to extreme environmental stress; it’s a natural energy-conservation reaction. You entered the upper reaches of Heaven for the first time and couldn’t adapt to the light. Leave the highlands, and your form will return. Students should focus on learning. always thinking about killing hinders your education.”
His little face flushed bright red. “Who told you I’m a student?! This isn’t my real form—I’m a soldier!”
“Even in your original form, you’re not that old.”
In the Demon Realm, military prowess was everything. Students who paused their studies to enlist and returned post-war were often treated with honor. This devil boy, he looked like a student playing hooky.
His face burned even hotter. “What the heck do you know?!”
Teenagers are all the same. Just one glance at that defiant, rebellious look in his eyes, and I could tell: this one’s adolescent syndrome was far worse than average. Thankfully, Hanniah was much more obedient. If he were anything like this devil, I’d never have a moment’s peace.
“I know as much about the Demon Realm as you do,” I said, deciding to steer the conversation away before he got too riled up. “On Sixth Heaven, we’ll pass through the wilderness. Got that?”
From inside the cloak, he nodded. His tiny bone wings curled up tight, cold as ice. “Fine. Then hurry up. I don’t have time to waste.”
As we flew past the Seventh Heaven, the little devil lifted his head from my arms. His big eyes darted left and right before settling on my wings. “You fly really well.”
“Angels are skilled flyers.”
“I know angels fly pretty well, but I’ve never seen one fly as steady as you. I once stood on an angel’s shoulders and had him carry me, but he almost shook me off midair.”
“Why were you standing on his shoulders?”
He gave me a sly grin.
“So my scythe could pierce from the top of his head straight down to between his legs.”
Seeing those sharp little fangs of his, I really wanted to toss him out. But as I studied him again, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he looked familiar. Or maybe it was just me. Maybe all children reminded me of Lucifer somehow.
We passed over the Ruthfel Cathedral, the angelic prison out in the wastes, the forests of Jerusalem, the sunflower fields, the place of confinement, and the endless sea of clouds. At last, we left the Celestial Realm. I landed in a quiet corner of the Red Sea and set him down, starting my search for the gateway to the Demon Realm.
Someone tapped my shoulder from behind.
“Hey, Vice Regent,” he said. “Give me my scythe.”
I turned and handed it to him—then stopped.
He had already returned to his original form. Leaning on the scythe, he lit a cigarette. “Let’s take a break. I’m beat.”
His legs were long and crossed lazily, his once chubby limbs now sleek and slender. When he lifted his gaze, that soft round face had sharpened into elegant lines, even his eyes had become narrow and fox-like. Scarlet curls framed a crimson rose tattoo, so vivid, it was almost obscene.
…Why did this kid look so dangerously….?
And then he looked up completely, and I froze in place.
The same rebellious glint in his eyes. That blood-red rose branded on alabaster skin, a perfect harmony of shadow and shock. He flicked his pipe, tilted his chin like a carved shard of jade, and in the swirling smoke, his pupils glinted the color of wine.
“What’s wrong? Falling for me?”
I stepped forward. “Tell me your name.”
He hooked an arm around my waist and blew a breath of smoke into my face. “Tsk. Such a sheltered Archangel. I’m famous in the Demon Realm. You should’ve known me already.”
I coughed and shoved him away, rubbing my burning eyes. “That’s very rude.”
“I’m only polite to ladies,” he said, eyes slanting into a devilish grin, lips a sultry red. “And you, Lord Michael, are very much not.”
That’s when I noticed the pattern etched into his pipe. Twining roses, yes, but beneath them, a specific sigil: a cross enclosed within a circle. The circle symbolized material power and carnal desire, the realm of devils. The cross stood for spiritual strength and divine virtue, the realm of God and His children. A circle engulfing the cross meant one thing: darkness swallowing light.
That sigil was infamous in the Demon Realm, second only to the hexagram of Satan himself.
It was the mark of the Son of Satan.
But even without it, I could never mistake that face.
Lucifer’s son.
Author’s note, translated:
Mammon has arrived, cue the confetti and petals ~~~
玛门出场鸟，撒花~~~
Author: Tav Tav
Translating
The Right Wing of God, the one seated at the right hand of the Most High.
