This child is incredibly likable, but his personality is truly perplexing. His resemblance to Lucifer further solidified my suspicion that he might be Lucifer's illegitimate child. After a while, he relaxed and flew around the room like a little bee. I casually asked while tidying up the bed, "Why don't you go back to Lucifer?"
He abruptly came to a mid-air halt, and a few soft, miniature feathers fluttered down from him. "What?"
"Are you Lucifer's son?"
The little angel furrowed his brow. "Who told you that?"
I smoothed his delicate, willow-leaf-like eyebrows. "I guessed it myself. You look so much like Lucifer; aren't you his son?"
"Of course not."
"Well, that's a relief then."
The little angel raised an eyebrow, displaying an unexpectedly mature expression for his age. "Oh? Why do you say that?"
"He's quite full of himself." Realizing that this child wasn't any more modest than Lucifer, I smiled and said, "Little buddy, being arrogant isn't something to be proud of, you know?"
"I think he would be very interested in what you just said."
The little angel's watery blue eyes formed two crescent moons. For someone like me who always liked children, this was a powerful charm. I remembered chasing after a girl for six months; she had always been indifferent to me. However, one day, when she saw me taking my cousin shopping, she suddenly asked me out to dinner. Before she left for abroad, she said to me, "I believe that a compassionate man like you will find happiness."
I still believed that, no matter what life threw at you, you should always maintain a kind and compassionate heart. Thinking of those words, my mood warmed. I gently patted the little angel's head and smiled:
"Where is your home? I'll take you back."
The little angel hesitated for a moment, then moved away from my hand. "It's not necessary."
"Well, how about sleeping here? I'll take you back tomorrow."
"I said it's not necessary!"
I pushed him onto the bed. He fluttered his wings and tried to fly again. Even though I adored children, I had my limits. I grabbed a book clip from the table, clamping down on his right three wings. His balance faltered, and he shook his left wings, but his struggles were futile. He landed directly on the bed.
I hung his coat up and couldn't help but laugh at the six holes on the extraordinary fabric. Ignoring his strange gaze, I turned off the light and climbed into bed.
In the darkness, those big eyes blinked at me, emitting a pure blue light. The little angel lay flat, his hand resting outside the blanket, and he spoke like an old man, "This bed is uncomfortable to sleep in."
"Stop complaining and go to sleep." I tucked his hand under the blanket.
The naughty kid ran away as fast as lightning. The next day, he was nowhere to be found.
I got up, ruffled my messy hair, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. When I went to look for Carlo, he was already at school.
I didn't have many friends at school, so I went straight to the God's Law classroom to find him. There were still many angels in school, boasting and competing with each other, but on this particular day, the atmosphere seemed a bit strange. The gazes directed at me weren't quite right... Maybe I was just being paranoid.
At that moment, an angel approached me, and I stopped him. "Excuse me, do you know the schedule for sixth-level angels?"
"I'm sorry, I don't have time," the angel replied with a faint smile.
I stopped another passing angel and quickly asked, "Do you know the class schedule for sixth-level angels?"
"I'm sorry, I don't know."
"Do you know where I can find it?"
The angel still smiled faintly. "I don't know."
I proceeded to ask many angels who passed by, and their answers were almost always "I don't know," "I don't have time," or "Don't ask me." Furthermore, every angel who appeared near me wore a smile and seemed to be subtly scanning me, some even pointed at me. But as soon as I looked at them, they pretended to be discussing something else.
Though I had a thick skin, being rejected so many times made me somewhat unwilling.
Just at that moment, Carlo walked over with a group of four-winged angels, chatting and laughing. I was so excited that I almost rushed over to hug him, but instead, I shouted from a distance, "Carlo, where were you today? You nearly killed me!"
Carlo seemed not to have heard me and continued talking to the angels beside him.
I walked toward him, saying, "Carlo—"
Carlo didn't see me and was still enthusiastically discussing with the angel next to him, "Really? I didn't see him when I was in Jerusalem last time. Are you sure you've got the right information? Under Lord Lucifer's statue? No way, maybe I just missed it..."
His words seemed unusually numerous, and his expression was somewhat unnatural. It wasn't until we were face to face that he bypassed me and walked past me.
I reached out to grab his sleeve, but he walked too quickly and easily shook me off.
Some people around me left, while others were still watching. Some even stopped in their tracks.
Feeling a bit embarrassed, I smiled and casually sat down on a lawn, folding my wings. There happened to be a few angels sitting behind me, chatting:
"I used to see him flattering Lord Metatron, and now he's sucking up to Lord Raphael. I wonder who he'll go after next time."
"It turns out I've misunderstood Carlo all along..."
"Yeah, poor Carlo, making friends with someone like Isar."
"Did you hear that Isar disappeared for a month? But it seems like Lord Raphael isn't angry about it. It seems..."
They exchanged knowing glances. It was clearly morning, but I felt utterly drained of energy.
How did these rumors even start?
I hadn't done anything, but everything seemed to be misconstrued. What had Isar, this naive kid, done in the past to offend someone? I skipped the first class and lay on the lawn, pondering some increasingly perplexing matters. I woke up from a half-dreamy state, only to find myself face to face with a pair of enormous blue eyes.
I was startled and sat up abruptly. "Why are you here again?"
"What are you thinking now?"
The little angel cradled his left elbow with his right hand, lightly rested his fingers on his chin, and leaned slightly forward. If a beautiful girl made this gesture, it would exude endless allure. If a handsome young man did the same, it would radiate elegance. However, when a four-headed little child did it, I couldn't help but sport a Mona Lisa smile and had to hold back my laughter. "Little buddy, you're really cute."
After hearing my compliment, the little angel's face turned as dark as charcoal. I sat up straight and pulled him onto my lap, holding his neck tightly. I used my fist to ruffle his fluffy golden hair, but my mood didn't improve. I let out a gentle sigh.
I remembered an ex-girlfriend who once told me not to sigh because every sigh caused an angel to die. I also remembered a buddy who advised me not to sigh because every sigh killed a million white blood cells.
And now, someone told me not to sigh because every sigh took away a bit of self-confidence. I should always remind myself that I was invincible.
"Don't sigh. Every sigh takes away a bit of self-confidence," the little angel didn't look up but raised his gaze slightly. "Always remind yourself that you are invincible."
Did I hear him correctly? Could this child read minds?
The little angel's lips curled up, but there was no trace of a smile in his eyes. "They hate me. They don't want me to exist. So, do you think I'll disappear?"
I shook my head.
"If someone slaps you once, can you stab them ten times, and they'll still ignore your existence?"
Hearing his words, I couldn't help but shiver, then I playfully punched his round head, "You naughty kid, if the whole world does things that upset you, you can't retaliate against everyone."
"If this world disappoints me, I'll kill it."
The little angel's smile deepened slightly, but it exuded a cold, bloodthirsty aura. In that moment, he didn't seem cute at all; instead, he became rather eerie. I was contemplating how to respond when he looked at me with an expression that seemed to say, "There's no hope."
"I know you can't do something like that," he continued, "but at the very least, remember that pursuing your own dreams is all that matters, regardless of what others think."
Pursuing my own dreams?
As Michael, my dream was simply to graduate successfully, earn a million-year salary, and marry a beautiful and independent wife for a happily ever after.
As for Isar, his dream was probably to follow the Supreme Beings until death.
Both of these dreams seemed highly unrealistic, but the little angel's words somehow made me feel better. I patted his head and smiled, saying, "You still haven't told me your name."
The little angel hesitated for a moment, his clear blue eyes somewhat puzzling. "...Lucifinil."
Lucifinil, that name sounded familiar from somewhere.
He would undoubtedly become a famous archangel in the future, which was why the name sounded so familiar.
Lucifinil turned into a super clingy companion for the afternoon. No matter how I hinted, he refused to leave. Since the heavenly realm's classes were open for informal students to attend as long as there were empty seats, I couldn't even use the excuse of going to class to get rid of him.
I entered the Fire Magic classroom with him. It was more like a circular hall than a classroom, with the professor standing in the center, teaching three-dimensional magic. The students sat on circular seats, surrounding her.
We sat in the front row, and Lucifinil sat next to me. Due to his small stature, he could only see his round, blue, shiny eyes and his little head with golden hair sticking out from the edge of the desk. Feeling sorry for him, I decided to put him on my lap. This naughty kid was always mature beyond his years, probably thinking that this would hurt his male dignity, so he didn't say anything. As he took this seat, people around us turned to look at him, discussing how miraculous it was for such a young child to study advanced magic and still look so cute. Little did they know that this child's magic abilities could rival those of the professors.
The professor began her lecture, and after half an hour, I was utterly exhausted.
"The founder of the Flame Hand is His Left Wing, Lord Jesus, under God. The key to mastering this magic is the second law of Timothy. It involves extracting immense heat energy from high-concentration fire elements, triggering intense movement and transformation of the original magical power within the bodies of God's angels. Please note that the physiology of God's angels is entirely different from that of the demonic beings, and the fundamental nature and principles of fire magic also differ. Most of the fire magic used by demons comes from the negative Hellfire, while we use the positive Heavenly Fire. So, do not purchase magic from demons."
Besides, we all know that fire is the most explosive and the most clearly differentiated element among the four elements. Therefore, we often use it as an offensive magic..."
Who said magic was a mysterious and powerful thing? In the heavenly realm, everyone knew magic, and if someone didn't, they were considered as strange as a frog that could speak. Plus, the lecturer explained the theory so clearly and monotonously that any remaining mystery about magic disappeared.
Lucifinil tapped my hand with his knuckles. "If you don't want to listen, you can leave. Don't waste your time sitting here."
"It's not that I don't want to listen, it's that I don't understand."
"Can't you even understand something this simple? Can you cast a fireball?"
I indeed didn't know how to cast a fireball. I shook my head honestly.
Lucifinil had an expressionless face. "How did you become an Archangel?"
That question was rather profound. I yawned, took out a mirror, squatted down to untie my bootlaces, fastened the mirror to the back of my foot, and then stood up to whisper to him, "Let big brother teach you how to be a real man."
Lucifinil still looked confused. I leaned on the table and played with a feathered quill.
Before long, the professor, a bespectacled woman, walked over. I smirked and extended my foot.
"The power of Flame Hand is equivalent to the energy of a volcanic eruption, stimulating the collision of energy within the body. The weaker party plunges downward, melting at high temperatures, and the resulting molten substance rises or sinks depending on its density..."
The professor stopped by my side, reciting from her textbook to the group of students in our area. I squinted my eyes and pointed to my foot. Under the professor's skirt, her hidden charm was visible in the mirror. Lucifinil reached over to see, gave me a helpless look, and then, in his cute voice, cleared his throat.
"Professor, your shoelace is untied."
The professor turned her head to look at him, first widening her eyes and then giving a faint smile. "Child, you shouldn't lie. I don't have shoelaces."
I retracted my foot.
However, it was not fast enough.
Next, my face alternated between feeling like it was on fire and being drenched in cold water about ten times. The professor, with a poker face, turned to me. "Isar, stay after class." She smiled and nodded, and I pinched Lucifinil's hand hard under the desk.
I was left behind for about an hour, attending a political science class while contemplating how to deal with Lucifinil when I returned. However, when I finally left the Fire Magic building, that naughty kid was nowhere to be found.
Then came rehearsal. Metatron was absent, making the situation extremely awkward. This was especially true when performing opposite Gabriel; the atmosphere was so tense that you could almost feel the air freezing.
I finally got some relief, thinking of discussing the events of the day with Carlo. However, when he opened the door and saw me, all I got was the resounding sound of the door slamming shut. In such a situation, communicating with Carlo was crucial, but I had been busy all day, and I was too tired to even speak. I decided to give up and prepare to get some much-needed sleep.
As soon as I opened my room door,
A rich aroma of milk filled the air.
Lucifinil sat on my bed, wearing loose-fitting snow-white pajamas, and had even prepared a glass of milk. He was rapidly skimming through my book, "History of the Heavenly Realm," at a speed faster than Carlo flipping his hair. He had stacked a pile of papers beside him, and his little legs seemed barely able to bear the weight of the large book.
This naughty kid was really pushing it; he seemed to have taken this place as his own.
Seeing me, Lucifinil even put on the airs of a host, raising his chin slightly. "Sit."
I slowly walked over and sat down, resisting the urge to give him a good scolding. I smiled and asked, "What's the naughty kid doing here?"
"What do you think is the most difficult subject to study?" he replied without looking up from the book.
"Except for Numerology, all of them are difficult."
"Then it's simple. Heavenly Language Numerology and the History of the Heavenly Realm are both only assessed by written exams, but magic requires practical skills. How much do you know about Fire Magic?"
I extended my hand, trying to remember a spell Carlo had taught me, and ignited a small flame in my palm. "This."
Lucifinil stared at me for a long time.
I stared back with a smile.
In fact, I had some idea of Isar's academic performance from what others had said. Probably because of his great ambition, Isar was extremely dedicated to his studies. Not only was he exceptionally proficient in magic, but he also had a good character. Otherwise, even if he were as sycophantic as he was, he wouldn't have garnered so much resentment from others.
I probably didn't have the patience to strive to Isar's level:
"You don't need to teach me these things. Even if I don't pass the exams, it doesn't matter."
"If you pass the exams, you can become a Power Angel and gain your fourth wing," Lucifinil added, watching my contorted expression. "Of course, it's different from back then. This time, you'll ascend based on your own abilities, and the wings will be granted through prayer."
—He even knows about Isar's past?
He closed the book, took a sip of milk, and a ring of milk formed around his lips. I wiped it away, unable to help but think that this child, who usually acted so mature, was actually just a child.
Lucifinil paused for a moment, then spread his hand. His five slender white fingers were tiny and incredibly cute. "The focal point of different magics is not the same. In fact, if you carefully observe when you cast magic, you'll see that the source of power flows from your heart to your fingertips and then to the point of release. For example, in the case of Fire Magic, even beginners can see it clearly." He continued speaking softly and cast a spell. Suddenly, a bright crimson light appeared on his index finger, swiftly moved to his palm, and with a bang, a fierce fire ignited, as intense as a summer bloom.
I watched the fire in awe. "That's amazing! What kind of magic is this? It's so beautiful!"
"It's the Flame Art that you know."
I was stunned.
How old was this child? Judging by his appearance, he didn't seem like someone who specialized in Fire Magic. The last time he attacked me, it seemed like he used Lightning Magic. But the results seemed almost the same, much better than me, the so-called "professional"... Lucifinil retracted his palm. "You're going to take the exam soon. It's not difficult to pass in a short period if you follow my instructions."
"If I don't pass, will I be sent back to Jerusalem?"
Lucifinil nodded without hesitation.
I closed my eyes in agony. This felt just like when Adam and Eve were cast out of Eden. Thinking of that, I suddenly asked, "By the way, is God currently creating people?"
"He assigned the task to the Archangels, and Jesus has gone to search for the ideal plains to open Eden."
"Has the man's name been decided?"
"Yes, it's Adam, and he has already been created. Lilith's appearance hasn't been decided yet."
"What about Eve?"
Lucifinil looked puzzled. "What Eve?"
Right, Lilith was the original woman, but she left Eden for some reason and became the wife of Lucifer, the Demon King. After she left, God created Eve. I almost let it slip but quickly changed the subject, "What does Adam look like?"
"He looks exactly like Lucifer, nothing special."
Wasn't it said that he looked like God? Did the Bible have it wrong?
"What does God look like then?"
"God is the greatest power in the entire universe, so He has no physical form. Even if He occasionally takes on a form, He doesn't show His face to others."
"So, God can transform into anything He wants?"
"It's not just God; all Archangels can change their appearance. However, for the sake of convenience, they usually stick to one natural form."
I had heard this before from Carlo, but Lucifinil's origins made me even more curious. "...How do you know all of these things?"
"Because I have six wings."
"Why is the color of your feathers like this?" I reached out and touched his wings. The six small wings were fluffy and silky, incredibly pleasant to touch.
Lucifinil seemed reluctant to let me touch them and shook his wings to retract them. "It's because my power is insufficient."
"I see." I lay down on the bed, already so tired that my eyelids were fighting to stay open. "Naughty kid, you know so much... Tell me more about the Heavenly Realm..."
Lucifinil extended his small hand and pushed my shoulder. "Don't fall asleep. First, finish reading the book."
"You can talk, and I'll listen..."
Just as I was on the verge of falling asleep, I vaguely heard a rustling sound next to me, as if the tip of a pen was brushing against paper.
I seemed to have spoiled this naughty kid, Lucifinil.
From then on, he would visit me every few days, and I couldn't bring myself to refuse such an adorable child, so I let him stay. Later, I discovered that the child liked to draw, especially sketches.
Once, out of curiosity, I wanted to take a look at his doodles and offer some encouragement. But when I saw his drawings, all my words of encouragement were swallowed: most of his sketches depicted the grand buildings of the Heavenly Realm and the desolate landscapes of the Demon Realm, each one perfect enough to be exhibited in the Louvre. I picked out a few and hung them on the wall, but he looked down on me for it.
Millennia later, I moved to a new place and lived in the Radiant Palace where Lucifer had once resided. I would often admire the murals throughout the hall, gaze at the boundless void and the ethereal skies outside the windows... In the end, my gaze would invariably be drawn uncontrollably to the center of one particular sketch: a young boy lying on the bed, holding a pillow, with his short curly hair slightly disheveled, peacefully sleeping, lost in the sweet dreams of youth.
The paper was somewhat worn, a bit blurry, but every stroke and trace seemed to record millennia of longing.