Chapter 45: The Celestial Wall
Northern Prison of the Martian Heavens.
With his one-month sentence now served, Beelzebub bade farewell to Asmodeus, who remained incarcerated within the prison.
Having spent a month in each other's company, it was inevitable that a sense of parting sorrow would arise between them.
Beelzebub retrieved every scrap of food he had managed to hide away and presented it to his cellmate, offering him words of comfort.
"I will ask His Highness to have you released as soon as possible."
It had been nearly a thousand years since the Holy War ended; surely, even the gravest of sins ought to have been fully atoned for by now.
"It's alright; I've grown accustomed to this place," Asmodeus replied, gazing with some astonishment at the pile of food. Despite having spent so much time together, he had never realized his cellmate possessed such a talent for concealing contraband.
"More than that, I'd like to know the whereabouts of the Archangel of Thrones," he said, glancing toward the empty cell to his right. "He hasn't returned since that day; I wonder how he's faring."
Hearing this, Beelzebub furrowed his brow and remarked:
"Lately, the Archangel of Thrones has seemed distracted and unsettled; something has likely befallen him. Who knows what task Lilith sent him to undertake?"
"Lilith."
A voice as cold as frost drifted from behind Beelzebub. As Asmodeus's face twisted in shock, Beelzebub stiffly turned around.
Standing silhouetted against the light, the figure of the Arch-Seraphim exuded an overwhelming aura of majesty.
"Ah! Your Highness, I beg your forgiveness!" Terrified, he instinctively wrapped himself in his six wings, cocooning himself like a silkworm chrysalis. Yet, after a long moment, nothing happened.
He cautiously lowered his upper wings, peeking out with just his eyes.
"You... aren't angry with me?"
Lucifer offered no verbal response; instead, he walked directly toward the cell that had formerly belonged to Samael, opened the door, and stepped inside.
"Since you have now been released from prison, do not linger here any longer," Lucifer stated in a cool, detached tone.
"Y-Your Highness?" Beelzebub stammered, bewildered. As he gazed at the Arch-Seraphim seated within the prison cell, he suddenly realized how starkly simple his appearance had become: his six wings of holy light had been withdrawn, and every last vestige of his magnificent ornamentation had been stripped away. Although he had once cursed the Arch-Seraph, wishing for him to end up in prison right alongside him, those were merely empty words. Even if Lucifer were cast down into the depths of Hell, Beelzebub could scarcely imagine a day when he would truly find himself behind bars.
"Please, stop joking around! Come out at once!" He reached out to pull open the prison door, but the moment his hand brushed against the bars of the forbidden cell, he felt a sharp jolt—as if he had been struck by a surge of electricity.
Lucifer had activated the cell's punitive enchantments. These mechanisms, established during the founding of the Angelic Prison, were designed specifically to punish angels who had committed the gravest of offenses. Once activated, the environment within the cell would transform into a living Hell—the ultimate punishment an angel could endure.
In all the countless years since, not a single angel had ever been subjected to such a penalty.
Asmodeus stared blankly at Lucifer. He reached out and touched the bars of his own cell; they remained just ordinary bars.
Lucifer had reserved the harshest of punishments solely for himself. Soon, he would be assailed in turn by biting frost, scorching heat, corrosive acid, and toxic mists.
Stripped of the protection afforded by his six holy wings, even an Arch-Seraph was no different from any ordinary angel when subjected to such penal measures—save, perhaps, for the slightly faster rate at which his wounds would heal.
"Why would you do this...?"
"Failure of oversight; abuse of authority for personal gain; blind credulity; unauthorized intrusion into the Highest Sanctuary; arrogance and insubordination..." Lucifer offered a faint smile as he recited, once again, the litany of charges God had leveled against him.
"Since He has deemed me at fault, then naturally, I must accept my punishment."
"How could God speak of you in such a manner!" Beelzebub asked, his voice strained with emotion. "And... how long must you remain here?"
Lucifer fell silent, his gaze drifting upward toward the heavens.
How long?
It was a duration unknown—perhaps it would be a very long time; perhaps, a very short one.
He would remain there until the Great Cathedral saw fit to grant him an audience once more.
Would God ever summon him again?
*—"Until you have truly grasped the nature of your error, I shall not look upon you again."*
In all likelihood... He would not.
Sensing the deep despondency that had settled upon his commander, Beelzebub suppressed the rage and murderous intent seething within him. Forcing a smile onto his face, he spoke:
"It matters not, Your Grace. Rest assured—I am here to watch over things on the outside." Having said this, he turned his gaze toward Asmodeus, who stood silently beside him. "As, take good care of His Highness." He then shot a meaningful glance; Asmodeus, sharing a certain unspoken rapport with him, quickly grasped his meaning.
"I hardly need *your* instructions," the blue-haired Cherub sneered at Beelzebub, gathering up all the snacks the latter had gifted him and piling them high between himself and Lucifer.
As if he actually cared for them! What a joke—that so-called "solid bond of fellow inmates"!
"These are offerings from His Highness Beelzebub—presented to you with the utmost reverence!" Asmodeus chirped sweetly.
Gazing at the spread of food before him, Lucifer couldn't help but smile faintly.
"That is Beelzebub for you, indeed. You eat them; I have no need."
Asmodeus and Beelzebub exchanged glances, each seeing a look of sheer dread reflected in the other's eyes.
It was over. He wasn't even angry at *this*? In the past, had an angel in solitary confinement dared to sneak food, the Arch-Seraph would have erupted in fury long ago.
Just what kind of devastating blow had he suffered?!
It wasn't until they had exited the prison that Beelzebub unleashed his murderous intent, making no attempt to conceal it.
Lucifer was the exalted Arch-Seraph, the paragon of Heaven, the very embodiment of the angelic host—the core around which their entire existence revolved.
Anyone else could be imprisoned—but His Highness? Never!
Unsurprisingly, the events of the fifth day were recorded in their entirety within the Book of Genesis.
At the very end, the Book posed a question to its Master:
'God, why does the Arch-Seraph look so sorrowful?'
A profound silence hung within the Great Cathedral. After a long pause, God opened His eyes and replied:
"He desires for Me to be the God of the angels—and of the angels alone."
'But You have always been the one and only God, above the heavens and below the earth,' the Book of Genesis responded in bewilderment. 'Why, then, does his grievance seem directed solely at mankind?'
Even in ages past, God had never been the God of the angels exclusively.
"Because he has grown greedy."
'And so... will the Arch-Seraph fall?'
God offered no reply. His golden eyes encompassed all of creation, taking in every detail. The majesty of the Creator God seemed to ebb away with the passage of time; for now, Heaven's order lay in ruins, and a pack of wolves circled hungrily on every side. God's gaze swept over Samael, lurking in the shadows, then slid toward Lilith, who—incited by the demons—was casting covetous eyes upon Heaven. It rested upon Beelzebub, consumed by his own bitter resentment, and finally...
He fixed his gaze upon Lucifer, who, amidst his penance, was drenched in sweat and wore an expression of agony.
He gazed for a long, long time. On the Angelic Register, the name of the Arch-Seraphim still shone with dazzling brilliance—a light so pure that it could only repel the darkness; one could scarcely imagine it ever being tainted by it.
Yet God knew: a heart filled with doubt could find no root in Heaven; its fall was merely a matter of time.
"As long as you do not fall, you shall remain My eternal Arch-Seraphim."
This was the final act of clemency God extended to the Morning Star.
Not long after, the Deputy Arch-Seraphim received a divine summons to ascend to the Ninth Heaven. Michael hurriedly bade farewell to Gabriel and Metatron; beneath their anxious gazes, he stepped into the teleportation circle.
Lucifer had been dispatched to the Fifth Heaven; the duties and authority he had held were entrusted to Michael and Metatron, though—as the Arch-Seraphim's deputy—it was Michael upon whom God placed the greater weight of responsibility.
He swiftly traversed the Stellar Heaven to reach the Crystalline Heaven, where, at the entrance to the Grand Cathedral, he beheld the human couple whom God had left stranded there.
In the wake of Lucifer's departure, God had ruthlessly cast them out.
The wretched humans stood there in utter solitude—wingless, unable to command spiritual energy, and bereft of both God's decree and angelic aid—they were utterly helpless to take even a single step.
Michael could roughly surmise the reason behind God's summons: it was, in all likelihood, to resolve the matter concerning the humans.
"Angel Michael!"
Upon sighting the red-haired Arch-Seraphim, the human couple swarmed toward him as if he were their savior.
"My apologies." Michael coolly sidestepped them, maintaining a detached distance. Although he had once harbored a certain fondness for humanity, at this moment, he felt no inclination to offer them even the slightest courtesy.
"I am in haste to appear before God."
He walked past the humans, keenly sensing the aura of despondency radiating from Adam. "I am like a solitary outcast—no one is willing to come near me."
"Adam, you still have me." Eve stepped forward, seeking to comfort the despondent man; yet Adam glared at her, recoiling in utter rejection.
"Stay away from me, you serpent!"
"But... earlier..." Eve gazed in dismay at the man whose demeanor had shifted so drastically. Back in the Grand Cathedral, Adam had clearly stood in front of her to shield her; she had believed that all of this was behind them.
"Did you think that was the end of it?" Adam looked coldly at his wife, regarding her as if she were a mortal enemy.
"I will never forgive you, Eve."
"Please... don't treat me like this..." Eve wept.
Michael shook his head, having no interest in this quarrel.
Yet, a question lingered in his mind: Why would His Highness risk incurring the wrath of the Divine—all for the sake of mere humans?
In his view, the conflict between humans and angels was far from reaching a point of irreconcilable hostility.
Before they possessed wisdom, humans were docile and endearing—quite a pleasing sight. But now that they had acquired wisdom, their virtues could no longer mask their flaws.
He reined in his wandering thoughts; after all, one could hardly let one's mind drift aimlessly while standing within the Grand Cathedral.
As Michael had anticipated, the Divine's purpose in summoning him was to pass judgment upon humanity.
The Divine closed the gates of Eden, commanding the angels to reinforce the guard within the Garden to prevent humans from ever again partaking of the Tree of Life.
"Humans have now come to know sin; were they to live on indefinitely, the wickedness in this world would know no end," the Divine spoke to Michael in a calm, measured tone.
Michael bowed in assent, though his mind involuntarily drifted to a thought: *Poor humans. For having defied the prohibition, they have lost their home—forever.*
"Then... where shall humanity be settled?" Michael raised his head, gazing up at the Divine with a look of inquiry. "I just heard Gabriel mention that You intend to appoint Adam as the Messiah, yet You also stated that humanity is sinful... Please forgive Michael's dullness; I beg for Your divine guidance, my God."
"I have promised Adam the position of Messiah. When, by human strength alone, he is able to construct the seven walls of the Kingdom of Heaven within the Seven Heavens, I shall consecrate him as the Holy Son."
Once the divine decree had been uttered, there was no room for retraction; yet, Michael felt a sudden bewilderment in his heart—he could scarcely believe what he had heard.
"By human strength *alone*?"
"By human strength *alone*," God affirmed. "Simply convey this message to Adam."
Michael scratched his head; seeing that God had no further instructions, he withdrew in a somewhat dazed state.
At the entrance, he once again encountered the human couple.
To say he merely "ran into" them would be inaccurate; the human couple was clearly waiting right there for him to emerge.
After all, aside from this place, there was nowhere else for them to go.
"Lord Michael!" Adam called out nervously, mimicking the formal etiquette observed among angels; he was terrified that the angel might simply abandon them and walk away.
Michael's impression of him was no longer as negative as it had been initially, and he responded with a gentle demeanor.
This overwhelmed Adam with such emotion that he nearly burst into tears on the spot. After enduring so much, to once again experience the benevolence of an angel made him feel as though he would gladly tear his own heart out just to prove his sincerity.
"Please believe me! I never had any desire to become the Messiah!"
He had already been subjected to the cold, blade-like glare of Lucifer—all because of that very title—and the mere recollection of it still made his legs go weak.
Seeing that Adam was practically on the verge of pointing toward the Great Cathedral to swear an oath, Michael couldn't help but smile gently. He wasn't sure if God had overheard the exchange, but—recalling God's words from inside the Great Cathedral—he couldn't help but feel that this poor fellow was truly a pitiable soul!
"I suspect that God may not be... *quite* so insistent on making you the Messiah after all," Michael remarked tactfully.
According to God's intent, the role of Messiah was meant to be filled by a being of immense power; yet, ironically, God had endowed Adam with only the most rudimentary of abilities.
He then informed Adam that God had issued a new task—one that offered a chance to atone for past sins through meritorious deeds. When he had finished speaking, the human couple looked utterly bewildered; clearly, they still did not grasp just how utterly impossible a task this was.
And so, he led the human couple down from the Ninth Heaven all the way to the Lunar Heaven. Since this was to be an act of atonement—a means to redeem their sins through merit—it was only natural that they would begin at the very first heaven.
Adam was no stranger to this place; Raphael had brought him here once before. He looked around, finding the realm exactly as it had been during his previous visit.
Heaven consisted of nothing but boundless, drifting clouds. The materials required to construct city walls could only be sourced from the mortal earth below; without the aid of angelic power, the mere act of acquiring such raw materials would be an impossibility for Adam.
Moreover, given the sheer immensity of Heaven—let alone the Seven Heavens in their entirety—the task of building a wall within even a single one of these heavens would be a hopelessly futile undertaking.
"Can you do it?" Michael asked him.
Adam stood frozen, as if gazing upon his own wretched future.
"Oh, my God! Why do You do this to me?" he cried out, looking toward the direction of the Highest Heaven with a heart overflowing with grievance. "Was it *my* choice to be transformed from mere dust into a human being?"
"If I am truly sinful, You could simply turn me back from man into dust; why must You torment me in this manner?" He gazed out across the boundless, horizonless expanse of Heaven, his heart flooding with terror as he realized that God's wrath, much like this celestial realm, might well be without end.
"If my misery were to cease here, that would be one thing."
"But this is far from enough; the burden I bear far exceeds what I ought to bear. Perhaps even after I return—dust to dust, and earth to earth—this sin will remain unexpiated."
"And from this day forth, my descendants shall be but an extension of this very sin."
He spoke with a heavy heart; imagining his future progeny endlessly toiling to build walls within the Kingdom of Heaven, he could not hold back his anguish and burst into bitter tears.
"Oh, God! I possess none of the virtues You require; why, then, must You force me to endure the very suffering meant for the Messiah?"
"I am willing to renounce everything I have received."
"For Your terms are too arduous; I cannot fulfill them."
Eve embraced him, and together they wept in the darkness of the night—weeping until even the distant stars seemed to shy away in retreat.
Michael rubbed his head in mild consternation. Although Adam's lamentations sounded truly tragic, when weighed against the divine reward God had offered, perhaps things weren't quite as exaggerated as they seemed. "Do you know what a Messiah is?" he asked the human crouching on the ground, weeping bitterly.
Adam shook his head, wishing only to politely decline any association with the word. Michael laughed at his ignorance—laughing, too, at the fact that Adam did not even know what it was he was rejecting—though soon, that laughter faded slightly.
For what humans rejected was precisely what they valued most; was that not, in itself, a profound irony?
"In Heaven, 'Messiah' means 'Savior,'" Michael said softly.
"A Savior... *me*?" Adam stared blankly at his own hands.
"God has placed great hopes in you," the red-haired Seraph exhaled into the empty air. "Even if, from head to toe, you don't look the part in the slightest—"
"You could at least try to muster some of the bearing befitting a Savior," he said. "Stop this incessant weeping."
"It is, after all, merely a matter of building a wall."
*Merely building a wall,* the Vice-Commander of the Seraphim repeated inwardly.
For angels, raising a few walls was a trivial feat; but for humans—could *they* manage it?
"I will come down periodically to check on your progress. If you have any needs—aside from help with the actual construction—feel free to ask."
"Farewell."
The Seraph soon flew away, leaving only the two humans to exchange glances; Adam was the first to look away.
"I am but dust, and to dust I shall return—at any moment," he said.
"But *you* cannot. You must survive—even though I will never forgive you."
At these words, Eve wiped away her tears and placed a hand over her flat belly; her maternal instincts were inextricably bound to the life growing within her.
"I know," she said, looking at Adam. "We have no other choice."
*You will become the Messiah. From the very day you were born, I knew that I could only cling to you.*
*Be it love or hate, we shall never be parted.*
[Hebrew Mythology] The Arduous Chronicle of a World's Upbringing — by Dan Mu'ai