(Anime/Manga Fanfiction) [Various] Throne of God (25) + Extra Chapter
"Theoretically, all angels are under your jurisdiction, even the archangels are under your command. Therefore, the archangel's actions are partly your responsibility. And... the place where Joyce encountered the demon was at the border between the mortal realm and hell, not far from where you were at the time. Unfortunately, not a single angel discovered the demon."
The first sentence silenced Lucifer. No excuse could justify his negligence. This time, he was manipulated by the demon; if he made another mistake, who knew how serious things would become? So, he knelt there without denying it, awaiting God's judgment.
"Samael."
As the third seraphim to be called out, looking at his two companions kneeling in shame, Samael suddenly felt immense pressure. His mind automatically filtered through recent events to ensure he hadn't missed anything. And so... he finally found an error.
"My God, it was Samael's arrogance that caused this. I shouldn't have accompanied Gabriel to the Elven realm to pick moonflowers."
A clear gray shadow appeared behind Gabriel. His knees buckled, and the woman's bent body collapsed to her knees.
"…"
Jehovah fell silent instantly. He glanced at the kneeling man and the two other seraphim with their heads bowed even lower, and couldn't help but force a helpless smile. He had only called him out to announce who the warden of the Fifth Heaven was, so why was Samael so quick to admit his mistake?
Your sincerity makes me feel it would be a real shame not to punish you, Samael.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The angelic prison that alarmed Heaven was formed in the Fifth Heaven of Mars. The warden was Samael, the Seraphim of the Seventh Heaven. His deputy warden was not his original adjutant, but the Archangel Asmodeus. If it were a civil service position like the Messiah becoming the head of an academy, a Cherubim-class angel could naturally be allowed to continue serving as a deputy. But the significance of the prison was extraordinary.
Whether it's the warden or the deputy warden, their duties mean they need to judge the angels. Naturally, a compassionate and gentle angel wouldn't suffice; their mental fortitude and physical strength must be up to par. If even Samael and Asmodeus aren't up to the task… no problem, God will constantly help them hone their skills.
After this meeting in the Grand Cathedral, the seraphim who emerged all looked dejected, like wilted eggplants. Lucifer and Gabriel were particularly somber; even Michael dared not approach his superiors at this moment, for one had received punishment, and the other had received a substitute punishment.
Samael was spared this ordeal because he held a concurrent position, but he wasn't happy. He was also tasked with strictly supervising his fellow angels who were about to be imprisoned—his fellow angels being Seraphim and Archangel Gabriel. They had the honor of being the first angels to be locked in solitary confinement. Samael, on the other hand, was being spared because God was allowing the warden to save face; it wouldn't be good to leave the warden to lock the doors and serve his own sentence.
The days are long; it's time for Samael to be punished.
The new quill, dipped in golden ink, Jehovah turned to the next page of the Book of Creation, writing casually as he pondered. He started the new chapter on the fifth page; finally, the long journey of Heaven was about to begin. This was rare good news; there would be fewer things to worry about from now on.
Writing felt somewhat awkward. Jehovah squeezed the quill, which he had picked from Metatron. It was a golden yellow, as if formed from condensed sunlight, but its aesthetic appeal was definitely less than the quill without the Holy Light. Tapping his chin, Jehovah thought he should go pick another one, but this time he couldn't do it secretly.
Messiah, who was handling affairs in the academy, suddenly felt darkness. When he opened his eyes again, all emotional turmoil had subsided like a tide. The one who had used the body was naturally a certain creator god.
God felt a sharp pain all over his body as soon as he bent down, especially in his lower back—a clear aftereffect of overexertion. This feeling was quite novel; after all, he had become a god. To make him overexert himself… well, he'd have to create the world all over again.
It seems Messiah has indeed been diligently studying martial arts lately. If this continues, catching up to Lucifer isn't far off. God closed the daily schedule recently drawn up for Messiah with satisfaction, feeling that the pressure he had put on him had paid off. He should continue to work hard.
"Your Highness, where are you going?"
Achille looked at his superior in confusion. Wasn't he supposed to be focusing on reviewing official documents today? Why did it seem like he was going out all of a sudden?
Glancing at the cherubim, the god's gaze shifted from the fourth heaven, piercing through space, to the northern prison of the fifth heaven. The magnificent gray-white complex was just like the one he had vaguely seen a few days ago—so desolate. A somber, oppressive atmosphere lingered there, adding a touch of mysterious danger.
"It won't be far, just a trip to the northern part of the Martian sky."
His calm tone, unless he deliberately revealed his true voice, was almost flawless. After all, the Messiah was his soul incarnation, possessing distinctly human characteristics—the very things Jehovah had discarded after becoming a god.
Ignoring Archil's hesitant expression, Jehovah took two spare keys from a tray on the bookshelf and walked out of the palace gates. The keys were given to him by the administrator of the Fifth Heaven after meeting the Holy Son. It was a habitual request from Belial, meant to allow the Messiah to be "conveniently" delivered to Samael and Asmodeus, and also to give Jehovah an excuse to travel to the Fifth Heaven.
The warden and deputy warden's headquarters were in the higher heavens, meaning they would likely be frequently traveling to and from Heaven. Therefore, the keys to the Fifth Heaven's gates naturally needed to be given to each of them.
In Mercury's Heaven, with Lucifer showing absolutely no mercy, Joyce's mental state collapsed once more. Especially after hearing that Lucifer had been imprisoned because of him, and mistakenly believing that her punishment had been shared equally between him and Gabriel, Joyce fell into a state of chaotic mixed emotions, even driving the usually mild-mannered Raphael nearly insane.
Jeremy, who always considered himself superior, avoided them. Everyone in Mercury's Heaven knew Joyce had gone mad, and he secretly prayed for the Archangel's swift return to deal with the trouble.
Because Samael dared not provide her with any outside information, Gabriel, deeply worried about Joyce, could only sadly squat in the prison writing hymns every day, sending a million-word hymn daily to the Grand Cathedral, hoping God would consider her good behavior and release her.
Because God hadn't mentioned a time limit when imprisoning them; a year was imprisonment, a thousand years was imprisonment. The longer it dragged on, the more official business she would have to handle, and besides… the dark prison was so ugly.
Luckily, she wasn't the only one suffering, Gabriel thought to herself as she wrote, biting her quill.
While gloating was immoral, it was better not to be imprisoned alone. Both she and the Archangel had to endure hunger, heat, cold, exhaustion, and nightmares—experiences angels didn't have. They'd experienced all five types of prisons in turn, and Samael felt a pang of pity.
Because she was still within her imprisonment period, Lucifer had voluntarily removed all her ornaments, leaving only a simple white robe. Her golden hair cascaded across the gray-white floor tiles. The Archangel, dressed in unusual simplicity, sat calmly cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed, enduring the prison's unique power. Hunger and thirst were still bearable, but the cold and heat were much harder to bear.
Gabriel always wanted to take off her clothes when it was hot, but Lucifer's piercing gaze always stopped her. Even when her robes were soaked with sweat, Lucifer wouldn't even glance at her. Only at times like this did Gabriel regret not choosing male form; otherwise, the other wouldn't be so bothered. She was practically dying of heat and couldn't take off her clothes.
Damn Samael, is he trying to cook them alive by setting the temperature so high?!
His pale blue eyes were hidden beneath thick eyelashes, and a hint of weariness showed in his brows. Compared to Gabriel, who was already sweating and wanting to take off her clothes in another corner, Lucifer was diligently conserving his energy for the next session in the Frigid Prison. He had to get used to the contrast and pain of alternating hot and cold temperatures. Even though his lips were so dry they were about to bleed, he wouldn't waste his energy on futile efforts.
In a few minutes, the Frigid Prison would appear.
Upon meeting Samael, Jehovah, for the first time, used his memories to impersonate the Messiah. God wouldn't have gone to such lengths if he weren't interested; if he were to issue a decree based on his divine power, any living being would be restricted.
The conversation didn't last long before he expressed a desire to see Lucifer. Samael looked at the Messiah with surprise but still refused readily. More and more of his companions had come to see him in the past few days, but the Father had forbade anyone to disturb their confinement, so he couldn't make any exceptions. Seeing his refusal, Jehovah nodded in satisfaction and withdrew without further prodding.
That night, he directly used the Messiah's power to enter the prison.
The blond man, pale-faced, endured the cold of the room. His fluffy white wings, half-closed, hung gracefully, divine light flowing between them. However, in this prison, restricted by the hand of God, it served only a decorative purpose.
His fingers trembled slightly from the cold, and white strands of hair clung to Lucifer's hair. His azure eyes held a blurred will. Jehovah, noticing Lucifer's weakened state, acted without hesitation, knowing Lucifer wouldn't sense anything.
The base of his six wings was obscured by dense feathers, the most fragile part of an angel's wings, where only a few tender downy feathers remained, the only place Lucifer could retain warmth. The delicate down slid across his fingertips, a warmth mingling with the icy air. Jehovah stood behind the man on the ground, his fingers tracing the fine downy feathers at the base of the wings, seemingly selecting the softest one.
"Messiah..."
Lucifer's long, slender back stiffened. The air in the frigid room seemed to freeze, and the warmth of his back was lost; the cold wind swept into his concealed back, carrying away the precious warmth.