Samael was dragged in chains to the Seventh layer of Heaven. His wrists were bound behind his back; his soul still smeared with the blood of his victims. Angels lining the path whispered in disbelief, wondering why the Morning Star himself was paraded like a criminal.

  Michael stalked at his side, eyes blazing with fury. The other archangels walked in grim silence. Their disappointment weighed heavier than the chains, yet none spoke. At the front, Metatron led them toward the Throne Room, face unreadable.

  Before the towering doors, Samael halted. He drew a breath, steady but sharp, as though bracing for a final battle. The archangels gave him that moment—everyone except Michael.

  Michael’s boot cracked into his shoulders, dropping Samael to his knees.

  “What’s wrong, Samael?” Michael’s voice dripped with venom.

  “Afraid?”

  Ariel stepped forward, but Michael’s glare froze her.

  “You’d defend him? A butcher of children?”

  Her silence was answer enough. None of the others moved. His crimes outweighed their pity.

  Michael seized a fistful of his hair and yanked him toward the golden doors.

  “You see that? That’s your death. Every step from here is your last.”

  The archangels believed he would die. That was why they let him breathe.

  Samael chuckled, a low, mocking sound.

  “You think Father will kill me? His strongest weapon?” He clicked his tongue three times, sharp as a metronome. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

  Unease rippled. If Samael was certain, perhaps he was right.

  Michael drove his face into the golden floor, leaving a dent, then pressed down hard, grinding him into the mark.

  “You overestimate your worth,” he hissed.

  Samael’s muffled reply was calm, almost amused. “Then let’s find out.”

  Michael yanked him upright. “Gladly.”

  The doors thundered open. Light like a living firestorm spilled into the hall. The archangels bowed low, their forms trembling beneath the radiance of The Lord’s throne.

  The chamber was perfection wrought in gold and light. Walls laced with celestial patterns. A floor of molten brilliance. To the left of the Throne sat twenty-four elders cloaked in white, their faces veiled against His unbearable glory. Their voices lifted in endless song until The Lord raised His hand, silencing them.

  A dais rose at the chamber’s heart. Samael was dragged toward it. His bloodstained garments dissolved into white, as did the robes of every angel present.

  Metatron bowed. His voice rang clear, cutting through the charged stillness.

  “By command of the Almighty, the trial of Samael, leader of the archangels, begins. You stand accused of murdering ten million children at Lilith’s command and of casting an angel into the Void. You knew right from wrong. You chose slaughter. How do you plead?”

  Gasps rippled through the gathered host. Murmurs swelled like storm winds. Uriel turned his face away. Adriel went pale, shaking his head, unwilling to believe.

  Samael said nothing. He stood calm, composed, unblinking.

  Metatron’s tone hardened. “Those children begged for mercy, yet you slaughtered them without hesitation. How do you plead?”

  Michael’s lips curved in a cruel smile. What’s wrong, Samael? Where’s your confidence now?

  Samael’s voice broke the silence, quiet, even. “I killed them.”

  The chamber erupted. Shouts, curses, outrage. Adriel wept openly and fled the hall.

  Michael almost laughed. That’s it? Your great defence?

  But Samael continued, voice like iron.

  “They were not innocent.”

  The uproar stuttered into silence. His words carried weight, and with it, doubt.

  Metatron’s eyes narrowed. “You will prove that. First, let those who deny Samael’s claim step forward.”

  Michael was the first. He strode to Metatron’s side and bowed to the throne. His voice rose sharp as a sword.

  “I’ll start from the beginning. Jophiel warned us Samael was going to do something rash, and at first we didn’t think much of it till we sensed an immense aura on Earth, then shortly after a rift to the void. When we got to Earth, I noticed multiple faint residual energies for an angel and the residual energy of a newly awakened fallen angel.”

  He pointed at Samael, “That monster killed him multiple times and made him turn.”

  “First mass murder, now torture. How do you plead to these new accusations?” Metatron asked.

  The crowd stirred in fury. Samael’s voice cut through, calm as ever.

  “He raped Lilith.”

  The chamber froze. Angels gagged, hands over mouths. Shock rippled like a shudder through the host.

  A single angel choked, “An angel committed such a crime?”

  “He defiled her,” Samael continued. “Someone made in Father’s image. Such disrespect cannot go unpunished. That is why I broke him. That is why he was cast into the Void.”

  The assembly wavered. Murmurs faltered into uneasy silence. Some nodded grimly, swayed by his ruthless logic.

  Michael’s jaw tightened. They’re listening to him? He can’t possibly talk his way out of this.

  “He’s not telling the full story.” He thundered. “Do not forget—he slaughtered children on Lilith’s orders. They were not just her children but the children of some angels. Yet he murdered them all. No matter their parentage, they were innocent!”

  Metatron raised his hand. “Samael. Your rebuttal.”

  “They were not innocent,” Samael repeated. “They were a threat to us. Children of fallen angels inherit the Image of Father. Their potential was beyond our control.”

  Michael barked a bitter laugh. “Children? A threat to us? Don’t insult our intelligence.”

  “You don’t understand,” Samael snapped. “Father’s image awakens powers greater than any archangel. I culled the threat before it grew.”

  “Not all were; some were children of angels, and you killed them indiscriminately.”

  Samael’s voice sharpened. “Raised by the fallen, they would have followed them in time. It only takes one bad day for an angel to fall.”

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  Michael chuckled darkly. “You call yourself wise, yet you fear children. Pathetic.”

  Before Samael could reply, Metatron interjected. “He is correct. The image of Father carries terrible potential.”

  Michael recoiled. “What—?”

  “There are a lot of secrets you don’t know, but in time they will be revealed. You asked why I would fear children with the image of Father? That is because, like the Heavenly three, they can access Divine—”

  The crowd gasped. But before the uproar could swell, the Throne itself thundered.

  “Silence.”

  The single word extinguished all sound.

  His voice shook the marrow of existence.

  “Samael, six futures existed where the children lived without bloodshed, but you did not see them. You acted upon limited sight, believing yourself omniscient. You are not—at least not yet.”

  Samael’s composure cracked, horror flickering across his face as visions of the futures he had lost surged through his mind—a child’s laughter beneath sunlit trees, angels chasing one another through the garden, Uriel and the archangels among them, radiant as they played with the children. But the light bled away, the images dissolving into the shadows of the deaths he had wrought.

  The chains rattled as his hands trembled.

  If there was a better way… I deserve death. How did I not see it?

  “Since you didn’t know they existed, I’ll judge you based on the future you saw. There was one that avoided the most bloodshed, yet you didn’t take it due to selfish reasons.”

  Samael clenched his fist, and flashes struck him: Uriel crippled, cursing his existence, spirit shattered beyond repair. Samael shut his eyes. I could not accept it, Father. Forgive me.

  The Lord’s decree fell like fire:

  “You are stripped of rank and title. You will dwell in the First layer with prisoners, leaving only for missions and teaching. You will save more lives than you destroyed, or the Void will claim you for eternity. If any archangel dies, your life will be forfeit, and you will spend eternity in the Void. If you fail, your legacy will be erased, and you will forever be remembered as a butcher of children. That is your punishment.”

  The hall shook with divided voices—relief, outrage, disbelief. Michael’s fury blazed hottest.

  Samael bowed his head. “Thank you, Father, for Your mercy.”

  Michael’s voice shook with rage. “It is not enough! He deserves death!”

  “Michael, you think I was too merciful?” The Lord asked.

  “Yes, Father.” He bowed his head, calming his anger.

  “Then answer. If killing one child would save your brothers, would you do it?”

  Michael froze. Any answer damned him. After a long silence, he whispered, “Yes.”

  “And if ten million children threatened your brethren?”

  Michael’s throat closed. No answer came.“That is what I thought. You may leave.”

  When the Throne Room emptied, only Metatron remained.

  “Lord… was Samael right? About their potential?”

  “Yes. As children of the First Woman, they could awaken Divine Authority.”

  Metatron trembled. “Then… perhaps he was justified.”

  “He was not. There were paths without slaughter. His biases covered them.”

  Metatron hesitated. “But there was one with less bloodshed. Why not choose it?”

  “Because in that path, Uriel was broken—his soul scarred beyond repair. Though healed, his spirit was shattered. He abandoned the archangels and cursed Samael’s name forever.”

  Metatron bowed his head. “I do not think I could have chosen that either.”

  “One more question, Lord,” he whispered. “You said you judged him by the futures he could see. Is Samael not omniscient?”

  “He is, but he uses it like a tool; he doesn’t live it. Knowledge must be processed, and Samael filtered what he deemed irrelevant. Among what he cast aside were the futures of mercy.”

  Metatron bowed his head. “Then he was blind by choice.”

  The Lord’s voice was steady. “His pride limited his choices, and his selfishness made him slaughter multiple generations. Go now and lead the archangels in his stead.”

  “As You command.”

  After Samael was taken to his cell, Metatron gathered the others to pick his replacement. They voted without hesitation: Uriel, inheritor of Samael’s strength and skill, would rise as archangel.

  He went through the ritual, gaining a boost in all his abilities, and Arondight, sister blade to Excalibur, was placed in his hands, cementing his rank as archangel.

  In the first layer of Heaven, chains clinked faintly in the gloom. The cold prison offered nothing but silence, leaving its captives to their own thoughts. Samael sat in his cell, haunted by the echoes of his failures—Tamiel slain, Charmiel fallen, Zadikel lost. If his vision had faltered, if gaps had marred his sight, could their fates have been spared? The question gnawed at him, relentless as the dark.

  The prison was full of angels who had blundered too badly to remain free, yet not so far gone as to deserve the Void.

  “Hey,” a rasping voice called. “Aren’t you Samael, the strongest? What’s a legend doing in a cage?”

  He ignored it.

  “Answer me, boy!”

  Samael sighed. “Why bother me, Jackiel?”

  A dry laugh. “So you do know my name. Maybe the rumours about your sight aren’t all lies.”

  “How do you know mine?”

  Jackiel grinned. “If the rumours are true, shouldn’t you already know?”

  Samael rolled his eyes. Too many angels hid behind that line, making conversation impossible.

  “All of you are the same,” he muttered. “You want tricks, not talk.”

  Jackiel smirked. “So there are limits. If you couldn’t answer, you could’ve just said so.”

  “Limit?” Samael’s voice edged sharp. “I just don’t waste breath on trivial questions.”

  “Then prove it. How did I know who you were?”

  Samael scoffed. “You bribed the guards with mana gold.”

  Jackiel chuckled. “Not bad. What else do you know?”

  “I know you crave knowledge. And I know you were one of the first archangels. You lot were quite pathetic. All of you are either dead, imprisoned, or fallen angels.”

  Jackiel’s face darkened. “You think you are strong, golden boy? If these chains weren’t on me, I’d—”

  “You’d what? Kill me? Like you killed that galaxy you blew apart? Please, you wouldn’t even be a warm-up.” Samael turned away.

  Rage shook the cell. Jackiel hammered the bars until the fury bled out of him. At last, he spat, “I see it. You’re angry they caged you. I was the same. But I wonder—what crime could the Lightbringer commit to end up beside me?”

  Samael cracked an eye—a chance to test the gaps in my sight.

  “Fine, I’ll tell you, but you go first.”

  Jackiel sneered. “That’s not fair, you already know.”

  “Better to hear it from the source.”

  After a long silence, Jackiel spoke. “I was fifth generation. By then, most archangels were dead or fallen. You know how angels become fallen angels, right?”

  “I do.”

  “The pinnacle of Evil gods possessed the first generation; their power was unstoppable.”

  “They sound strong. I would love to fight them.”

  “I don’t think you would. Everyone who faced them either fell or got corrupted. My friends, my family, are gone. We sealed them, but my brother…” He exhaled deeply. “He killed my general to avenge his masters and to get back at me for not following in his footsteps.”

  “Let me guess. That’s when you lost control.”

  “Not just control. Hope.” Jackiel’s voice broke. “I destroyed Battleworld. After my rampage, I noticed a whole galaxy was gone. All those lives, gone in an instant. They called me a monster, and they were right. I’m glad Father showed me mercy.”

  Samael was shocked by the revelation.

  Battle world was created for celestial combat, and he destroyed it? I guess he isn’t an archangel for show. He grinned.

  Silence stretched between them. Finally, Samael confessed to his crimes.

  “Let me get this straight, you killed those kids because…what Lilith told you to?” He questioned.

  “No, that was one of the reasons, but the main one was they inherited the trait humans had to be in the image of Father,” Samael explained.

  Jackiel’s eyes went wide.

  “They carried the spark of Divine Authority?”

  “You know of it,” Samael said quietly.

  “I saw it in action. The first Fallen wielded it.”

  That revelation unsettled even Samael.

  That shouldn’t be possible; the only way to get an authority is to be born in the image of Father…or absorb a buttload of primordial energy. But where did they get it? As Samael pondered this information, the white-haired man inside Samael grinned at this discovery.

  Jackiel smirked. “What’s wrong? I thought you knew everything.”

  Samael lifted his shackled wrists. “Not with these on. They strip all my abilities.”

  “Then store it in your head for later.”

  Samael barked with laughter. “Every scrap of knowledge in existence? You’d drown.”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Picture this: you can never be surprised, conversations mean nothing, and all others pale in comparison to you. It’s a terrible existence, that’s why I shut it off all the time,” Samael explained.

  “I wouldn’t mind, because knowledge is the most valuable thing in the universe.”

  Samael shook his head. “Then we have different priorities.”

  For a time, both stared at the walls in silence.

  At last, Samael asked, “How did you seal Fallen with Authorities?”

  “One of the Heavenly Three came. The Third. He stripped their power so we could bind them. Without him, we’d have lost.”

  “I suspected. Killing them would’ve been impossible,” Samael said flatly.

  Jackiel nodded. “Nothing left a mark.”

  “Of course not. They were higher beings. Even if you turned creation into a bomb, it wouldn’t scratch them.”

  Jackiel rubbed his chin, unsettled. “That’s good to know.”

  Then footsteps echoed down the corridor. A new voice cut through the gloom.

  “I see you’re making friends.”

  Samael smiled faintly without looking up.

  “I was wondering when you’d come, Jophiel.”

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