No matter how arrogant and mighty they acted, the angels were assigned to be the guides of the apocalypse here.
I knew their secret—they weren't divine beings. They were simply members of a race that had survived their own apocalypse aeons ago, now serving as the bureaucratic custodians of ours. They weren't gods.
Because of that, they were bound by rules. No matter how they tried to act against us in the shadows, once their actions were recorded and broadcasted to the greater universe, their hands were tied.
To continue their aggression would be professional suicide. They had to change their attitude; they had to show humbleness and cooperation. Or else, many complaints would be raised to the higher overseers, and they would be severely punished.
Were we actually being watched by gods? Frankly, I didn't know for sure. But according to the old man, the universe was vast beyond comprehension, and the number of ongoing apocalypses was staggering.
