Chapter 45: God’s blessing

As my consciousness slowly returned, I was engulfed in a suffocating darkness that seemed to seep into my very soul. The last thing I remembered was the fatal blow from Azazel, as I valiantly tried to protect Matasyn from his wrath. Had that treacherous hound decided to let go of Matasyn and return to report to his master after he killed me? But where was I now?

This place was unfamiliar, and it wasn't the realm between life and death that I had heard of. The realm's voice that usually whispered in my ears was eerily silent as if all its memories had been erased.

As I looked around, my heart sank as I realized that I was not alone. The emerald-tinted surroundings were teeming with countless formless souls, swirling around aimlessly in a never-ending abyss. Their presence was suffocating and cold, their existence devoid of any rationality or purpose. They were like lost souls, condemned to roam this desolate realm forever.

My progress was abruptly halted by the mirror-like surface in front of me, reflecting a distorted image of my bewildered expression. The deafening silence that surrounded me seemed to amplify the erratic beating of my heart, as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. This was no ordinary place, and I couldn't shake off the feeling of impending doom that loomed over me.

My mind raced through all the possibilities of where I could be, trying to discern any clues from my surroundings. The cycle of death and rebirth was an instant and familiar process that completely eradicated one's consciousness, but this was not it.

This wasn’t a weird dream either because the ground is solid enough to stand on. And there wasn’t a house floating in mid-space to lighten up the place. As I weighed my options, a chill ran down my spine as the realization dawned upon me. The only plausible explanation for this bizarre situation was…

“Purgatory, isn’t it, little Sariel?” There is the voice of a formless being that echoes through the realm as I was thinking. Like a menacing force of fear, I dare not to look back at the voice; something can only explain as primal fear.

“Then would the assumption be right?” I asked. Try with all my might, mana can’t be used here, as if a dense atmosphere of unbreathable horror strangles my breath as I try to struggle. Burn away my soul energy…I do not find one anymore yet the voice takes an amusing turn at my vain endeavor.

“Such a frighten ego, I should have rid it of the body if I was merciless as those books described me to be.” The voice turns closer as its palm reaches my shoulder, as I break free from the restraints of this realm to see…

Stand before me, is me? A visage of the mirror reflects yet they move easier than my current stand.“I would like to take your form for now not to expose your pseudo-immortal mind to sherds.” The other me says shaking my head, the expression seeming quite childish for my judgment.

"Don’t you curious about who I am? Or is it your movement being so constricted that not even words come out?” The piercing gaze of their eyes felt like they were staring directly into my soul, and for a moment, I couldn't even find the words to respond. Was this how I appeared to others?

“I assumed you were talking about memories or being one. Then may I ask for your identity?” My curiosity finally got the better of me, and I mustered the courage to ask about their identity.

“I am whom you called God. But there is no need to be afraid as this isn’t your judgment day yet. Those souls are what led me from my slumber from the ninth day. This would be opening for the tenth,” their bored tone failed to mask the weight of their words.

Everyone seems to know the story of the seven days of creation, on the eighth day the humans fall creating what is known as mortality, on the ninth day the sealing of angels and demons creates the age of mortals. The tenth day must be this era.

God seemed to read my thoughts, their expression bored as they said, "Quite a particular expression. Are you afraid of purgatory that much? Let me show you a glimpse of it."

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As the tip of their finger made a soft impact on the surface of the mirror, it suddenly shattered into a mosaic of colorful fragments, revealing a stunning kaleidoscope of realities.

Each of these worlds appeared to hold different meanings, some with joyous rewards, others with arduous tasks, yet all were merely elaborate creations, designed to maintain the delusions of their captives.

These were the prisons of the immortals, where their subjects were bound to sacrifice their own sense of reality in order to satisfy their innermost desires. As they sought to alter their fate or stubbornly cling to their cherished beliefs, they remained trapped in an endless cycle of paradise and torment.

Was there no other path to escape this unending cycle? As the realization of my fate dawned upon me, will this be my end hereafter?

God's fingers tap the mirror-like surface once more, and the swirling kaleidoscope of colors fades to nothingness, replaced by the reflective glass.

"It isn't your time yet, little Sariel," God spoke with an authoritative tone, their eyes penetrating my very soul. "But when the time comes, don't beg for it to disappear like now."

I am lost, drowning in confusion and desperation. "What will you make of me now?" I plead, searching for a shred of hope. "The old ones made to be your servants, I am not they, so what purpose would you make of me?"

"Since your so-called 'ally' has made a worthy sacrifice," God responded, "I shall make you walk among the world again. Which is why the name 'Mikhail' hasn't appeared in our mentions yet."

A wispy light flew out of the other image, leaving the other image to crumple like a discarded puppet. The light transformed into a human form with a long, neatly trimmed beard, curly hair, and piercing green eyes.

"But it wouldn't be subtle to let you on that again," the man said, scratching his head. "If you would be killed by the instance of challenging Sariel, then as the newly-made Mikhail, would you like to make a contract with me?" God's amusement is palpable, and I can't help but wonder what kind of game he's playing.

“Am I the first one? What will be the content of it?” I ask with a hint of suspicion in my voice.

“You don't hold back on the questions, do you? As expected of the archangel of knowledge,” God sighs in response, I can feel his piercing gaze on me as I await his answer with bated breath.

“You are not the first, as your creator made the first exchange to escape the sealing. His sacrifice was his sister Jophiel, whom you called Ma.” he finally answers.

“But, I find it peculiar that the rewritten existence of Jophiel does not affect your memories of her,” he says, the image before I glitch uncontrollably. It shifts past what is recognizable as human, leaving me feeling unsettled and disoriented.

“And what about my price?” I ask warily, my voice shaking with apprehension.

“For suffering so long, you simply have to bear the horn of a demon for the rest of your existence. It would be a small price to pay for power, don't you think?” God says playfully, I can't help but feel a sense of unease at his words, wondering what kind of power he is offering and at what cost

I eagerly ask, “If I accept, can I ask more questions before the contract is active?” I can barely contain my joy at the thought of having more time to learn from the almighty creator.

“Three questions, no more. I am growing tired of being questioned about my own blessings,” God responds with a hint of boredom in his voice, signaling his impatience with my incessant queries.

I take a deep breath and ask my first question, “Why did the sealing happen?”

“Because mortals needed to move beyond being mere targets for my children. Lambert is the only exception to my rule,” he responds with a hint of emphasis on Lambert's name.

I continue with my second question, “What was Jophiel's true nature?”

“Jophiel is a good child. Her nature is rather romantic, and I assume her questionable qualities developed before the humanity prototype,” God answers with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

As I ask my final question, “For my last, what was your order to Sariel before you go to slumber?”

God smiles with a menacing look and responds, “You save the best for last.” I can feel the weight of his words and the gravity of the situation, knowing that my thirst for knowledge may come with a steep price.

“Nothing. He should do what he pleases without interfering with humanity too much.” He answers, but it doesn’t sit right with me.

I can't help but feel a sense of unease as I ask my question, "But I heard many say that angels have rewritten history for themselves. It doesn't sit right with me if you said his command was nothing."

God's response only serves to heighten my discomfort. "Because it doesn't deter mortals' will. My greatest one betrayed me and decided to be the king himself, so I let him. It's simply more entertaining than sitting eternally watching humans just wandering without sins." His voice grows more and more excited as he speaks.

My suspicions only grow as he adds, "But I wonder, will you follow your creator's footsteps?" With a sly smile, the surroundings begin to shatter and implode, glass crashing into each other. The conversation comes to an abrupt end, leaving me no time to even say thank you.

When I come to, I find myself lying on a table in a snowy field. It takes me a moment to realize that I've seen this place before. Is this Aeterna? Looking down at the blurry crowd below, I hear a familiar voice from behind.

“You have taken a long enough sleep, brother.”

The end