Chapter Text
Somehow, Bethel found himself sitting at the same table as the Lord of Mysteries.
It was absolutely nerve wracking.
For the sake of his peace of mind and mental state, he chose to busy himself by staring at the exotic foods filling the table. The strawberry juice looked especially vibrant today.
At the very least, Bethel was not alone. Both Antigonus, who seemed very much used to this setup, and Tolzna, whose detached head had been placed on a pillow atop the table like some decorative trinket, were here too.
…Would Tolzna eat anything? How? Bethel did not want to know.
Oh, and Amon, who had turned out to be the King of Angels of Time and the Son of God, was also here, perched on the armrest of Mysteries’ chair more like a spoiled pet than anything else.
That damn crow.
“I heard the details from Amon,” Mysteries spoke as if reading his mind. “Although this is not what you expected from your initial deal, I can promise this position will open many doors for you.”
Why did Bethel feel like he was being hired at a private business establishment?
“My Lord, if I may speak?” Bethel bowed his head respectfully, Mysteries nodded in permission. “I am very honored to receive this position. However, I fear I am far too inexperienced and unsure of the role I am expected to fulfill.”
In other words, Bethel was asking for freedom.
“It’s only natural to feel lost at the beginning,” Mysteries said kindly. He truly was a benevolent god, unlike a certain crow. “But don’t worry. Antigonus will help you and Tolzna learn everything you need.”
The angel in question simply nodded as he sipped a cup of coffee. Bethel could not help but think about how casual he looked. As for Tolzna, he appeared to have given up on negotiations a long time ago.
“I wouldn’t mind helping you if you ask.” The damn crow spoke from his position beside Mysteries.
Bethel wore a thin smile. “I am very grateful for your benevolence.”
Like hell he would ever trust that crow again.
Mysteries snapped his fingers. The sound echoed crisply through the air, and a sheet of paper appeared in front of Bethel.
“This is a contract detailing your duties and benefits as an angel under me,” Mysteries explained. “I also included travel insurance according to the deal you made with Amon.”
Bethel had no idea what travel insurance was supposed to mean in the first place.
Reading the contract made him sweat uncontrollably. Was it considered rude to doubt the promise of a god?
Thankfully, Mysteries said nothing. He simply let Bethel read at his leisure while presenting a cookie to the crow. Just as Bethel finished reading, Mysteries spoke again.
“Of course, under my guidance, I promise to help you advance to the rank of King of Angels.”
It all sounded too good to be true.
And yet, somehow, Bethel could not help but feel as though he were signing his soul away with this contract.
The first "training" session Bethel and Tolzna got was to follow Antigonus for a reconnaissance mission to the farthest point beyond the Kingdom to investigate one of the secret organizations operating under the Lord’s dismissive eye.
A newly building cult worshiping the an angel of death that used to serve under an ancient god.
The opportunity to travel anywhere in the world under the protection of Mysteries was truly a blessing. Already, Bethel felt like all the promises made to him were being kept. All for the price of becoming, unofficially, Amon’s playmate, as Antigonus had put it.
“It seems the Lord is happy that Amon made a friend,” Antigonus had told him during their journey. Bethel had wanted to emphasize that he had been tricked into making a deal with a mythical creature and that this was not how people made friends.
“It also happens that we didn’t have any suitable candidates to become the angel of the Door pathway. The Lord had been insisting that Mysteries get one, so this worked out rather well.”
So it just so happened that the Lord wanted his son to make a friend, and it just so happened Mysteries needed an angel of the door pathway, and just so coincidentally Bethel fit both requirements.
He did not know whether to consider this good fortune or bad fortune.
“Come to think of it, Tolzna was also recruited because the Lord suggested Mysteries get a new angel to manage affairs in Utopia.”
So the two Lords were kidnapping angels to handle paperwork? Had the standing of angels fallen this low, or were the standards of gods simply too different?
Looking at Tolzna, who was carrying his own head in his arms like a bag, Bethel could not imagine him handling paperwork at all.
“I’ve been wondering,” Bethel finally gathered the courage to ask, “why did Mysteries recommend this… state?”
There really was no polite way to ask why someone cut off their own head.
“To digest the powers…” Tolzna answered, completely unbothered. “Detaching body parts… acting as a puppet… keeps the madness away…”
Bethel feared he might actually agree with the logic if he thought about it for too long, so he quickly changed the subject.
“Why isn’t Amon accompanying us?” Bethel had expected himself to become Amon’s tag along, so it was surprising not to see him with them.
“Amon had been away from the castle for quite some time, so he immediately accepted the opportunity to accompany Mysteries on another trip.”
…Even after being dragged here, Bethel was still only that damn crow’s second priority.
Among the countless states in God's kingdom, Moon City was especially unique.
The common religion throughout the Kingdom centered first and foremost in the Lord who created everything. Alongside that came reverence for Mysteries as the second great pillar of faith. Traditionally, churches were built in worship of the Creator, yet they also served Mysteries beside Him, as all things remained in balance.
But here, in Moon City, unlike anywhere else in the Kingdom, the church was devoted to only one god:
Mysteries.
Curiously enough, Father allowed this blasphemy under His very protection.
Amon found it strange. Yet at the same time, part of him found it fitting.
As if to separate themselves further from the kingdom, the people of Moon City held an exclusive religious celebration:
The Day of Wishes.
Once every year, the city adorned itself in bright yellow decorations. The citizens gathered in prayer to Mysteries, offering gold upon His altar. Then, amidst countless prayers and hopeful gazes, Mysteries Himself would descend to answer them.
The God of Miracles would grant their wishes.
Amon found it fascinating.
Of all the infinite powers Mingrui possessed, the ability to create miracles inspired the deepest faith. And because the people of Moon City witnessed those miracles year after year, they had become Mingrui’s strongest anchors.
“An anchor must become what we genuinely desire." — Adam had explained to Amon.
Now, watching the celebration, recalling Mingrui’s endless indulgence toward games of make a wish, Amon finally understood.
Gods embodied what they were worshiped for.
At the end of every celebration, Mysteries would travel farther west, to the outskirts of the city, where reality dissolved into a sea of fog that formed an enormous barrier.
The sealed Western Continent, Father called it.
Amon had heard of it before, but this was the first time he had seen it with his own eyes.
Walking beside Mysteries along the vast wall of condensed fog, Amon quietly observed the two priests accompanying them. One was a Miracle Invoker of the Seer pathway. The other, unexpectedly, was a Sequence 3 High Summoner of the Moon pathway.
The Moon pathway was rare to begin with. Most Beyonders of that pathway struggled to advance into the higher sequences, and the pathway was largely monopolized by the Sanguine race.
Yet for some reason, both Father and Mingrui allowed this city to nurture them openly, even supporting them from the shadows.
They eventually stopped before an altar like structure built directly in front of the fog wall.
“My Lord, there has been no change this year either,” the Miracle Invoker reported respectfully. “The seal remains unresponsive to rituals, and communication with the other side continues to prove impossible.”
“The seal remains strong,It will hold for the next two thousand years.” Mysteries' eyes glimmered with that strange starlight, brilliant and all knowing.
“Thank you for continuing to guard the seal, your efforts will be rewarded.”
Both priests lowered their heads respectfully.
“We could ask for nothing more from Your Excellence,” the Moon saint said sincerely. “The treatment we receive is already beyond anything we deserve. Moon City continues to prosper entirely because of your infinite benevolence.”
“It is merely the principle of equivalent exchange.”
Amon had long since learned that every deal involving Mysteries followed this principle.
Every wish required a price.
Even Amon himself, who usually escaped consequences far too easily, was still expected to give something in return whenever Mingrui indulged him.
Though more often than not, the price Mysteries demanded was trivial to the point Amon wondered how the god weighted equivalence.
The two priests were dismissed, leaving only Amon and Mingrui behind.
Amon followed after his unhurried steps, he reached out to clasp their hands together, prompting Mingrui to glance down at him.
“Father says I’m too old to be carried now,” Amon said with a smile. “So this is the next best thing.”
“Indeed. You’re even old enough to wander off on your own these days.” Mingrui chuckled fondly.
“I’ve been wondering,” Amon began, “why is Moon City devoted specifically to you?”
Mingrui hummed softly for a moment.
“Do you know which deity Moon City worshiped during the Second Epoch?”
“The Sanguine Ancestor, Lilith.” Amon answered immediately.
Mingrui nodded approvingly.
“After her death, the people here came under the Ancient Sun God’s protection in order to survive. It was also because their history and the Creator’s scriptures happened to share a particular myth.”
“What myth?”
“About an entity that performed miracles. One that appeared before Lilith during the early Age of Fire, much like it once appeared before the Creator himself.”
Amon blinked in surprise.
“You’re part of the Sanguine’s history too?”
“Unfortunately,” Mingrui answered with visible resignation, as if the matter troubled him. “I helped Lilith a long time ago, but I never expected her to record me into their history. So after my awakening, Moon City formally requested permission to worship me exclusively, and Grisha agreed.”
Despite being an angel and effectively immortal, Amon was still young, and moments like this reminded him all too clearly just how ancient both Father and Mingrui truly were.
As ancient as the myths of creation themselves.
“Did you enjoy the festival?” Mingrui asked, shifting the topic.
“I rate it four stars for matching your aesthetic,” Amon replied while adjusting his monocle. “The light lantern ritual was a unique custom.”
“Only four stars?”
“I’m being very generous.”
“Or you could simply admit you enjoyed it. I saw you lighting lanterns and flying them into the night sky with the children earlier.”
“It was for the cultural experience.” Amon insisted stubbornly.
In truth, he had found the custom fascinating.
It existed nowhere else except Moon City, which meant it was either something Mingrui personally introduced… or a tradition so ancient that only Mysteries, strangely sentimental as always, still remembered it.
Turning toward the west where the fog thickened endlessly, Amon asked,
“What exactly is behind this wall?”
According to Father, the Western Continent was a massive seal meant to hide the sefirot from the Outer Deities.
So who exactly were the priests trying to communicate with?
Mingrui followed his gaze.
Silence stretched between them before he finally spoke.
“Curious? Why don’t you try praying to it?”
“…Pray?”
“You may use my honorific name as the Lord of Mysteries. Direct the prayer toward the seal.”
Amon obediently followed the instructions, quietly reciting the prayer beneath Mingrui’s watchful gaze. His eyes never left the fog wall, anticipating some kind of response.
And sure enough—
The fog shifted, like muddy water slowly clearing. Faint dark silhouettes appeared behind it. Too blurry and indistinct to distinguish. But undeniably human.
Oh. Amon realized. There were people behind the seal.
“Adam once tried establishing communication,” Mingrui's voice was so faint, enough for the wind to carry away. “But he eventually realized it was impossible. Not while the seal still contains the sefirot…”
Looking up, Amon saw Mingrui smiling. It was the same familiar smile as always. Yet somehow… it felt entirely different.
Mingrui was not supposed to smile like that.
“My home used to be there, over the fog.”
Home, Mingrui said, and it's something so far away. Something out of reach, even for a God like him.
His eyes, usually bright like the stars, were empty and dim. His hand, neither cold nor warm, didn't feel solid, as if it were made out of mist that could dissolve at any moment.
Amon's chest suddenly felt unbearably heavy. His fingers tightened instinctively around Mingrui’s hand.
“But isn’t home in Father’s kingdom?”
Mingrui looked down at him. For a brief moment, surprise flickered across his face. It was rare. And infinitely better than the expression he wore before.
Slowly, in a daze, Mingrui nodded.
And just like that, the heaviness inside Amon’s chest vanished, as if it were all a lie.
Amon continued holding Mingrui’s hand all the way back to the castle.
It was endearing, in a way, seeing him still behave like a child despite his growing age. But at the same time, it made Mingrui worry.
“Welcome back. How was the festival?” Grisha greeted them as he always did.
It was an old routine by now.
Usually, Amon would immediately leave Mingrui’s side and drift toward his father, eager to share all about his outing.
Today, however, he stayed exactly where he was. Hand still firmly clasped with Mingrui’s.
“It was fun,” Amon answered lightly, his smile present as ever. “Especially the ending. The believers placed candles inside paper lanterns and released them into the night sky.”
“Oh?” Grisha sounded amused. “Did you make a wish too?”
“I always make a wish.”
“You won’t find that ritual anywhere else in the world.” Grisha walked closer, his large hand patted Amon gently on the head. “Mingrui has preserved it personally, you can consider it another one of those little secrets between us.”
Amon loved conversations about forgotten history, from the era before the cataclysm. But this time, instead of looking entertained, he fell strangely thoughtful.
Mingrui noticed it.
So did Grisha.
This child… why was he acting differently all of a sudden?
“Antigonus had already came back, he just left the audience chamber.” Grisha pointed to the window where Antigonus, bethel and Tolzna could be seen in the inner garden. “Do you want to go say hey to your new friend?”
From the window, Mingrui and Grisha watched as Amon greeted the angels below. As usual, Antigonus immediately pulled out a snack to offer him.
“Wait,” Bethel suddenly exclaimed, visibly horrified, “this child is Amon?!”
Apparently, his pride was further wounded at the fact he had been deceived by a child.
“Calling me a child is a subjective matter,” Amon replied smoothly, adjusting his monocle like a wise scholar. “I wouldn’t expect a human to understand the perspective of time from an angel such as myself, but you should at least realize that I’ve existed longer than you’ve been alive.”
Bethel stared at him in complete disbelief.
His brain clearly processed the words individually. Together, however, they stopped making any sense.
Watching the saint struggle through what was probably the worst revelation of his life, Mingrui turned his attention back toward Grisha.
“How do mythical creatures age in comparison to humans?"
Grisha immediately slipped into the calm, analytical tone he used whenever discussing something scientific.
“From my observations, every mythical form develops differently. Their growth rates vary depending on the pathway and nature of the creature itself. Eventually, though, they all settle into an adult form once their powers mature.”
Mingrui’s gaze drifted back toward Amon.
“How long did it take Adam to reach adulthood?”
“He grew at roughly the same rate as a normal human before he stopped aging altogether.”
“Then why is Amon taking this long?”
At last, Mingrui voiced the concern that had clearly lingered in his mind for some time now.
It didn't make sense.
Amon was the pinnacle of his pathway, born into it. He had long since perfected the act, to the point where it was his very personality and essence.
And yet, here he was, in the image of a child, a bug in time, as if mocking them.
“In some cases,” Grisha smiled faintly, tone gentle, “naturally born mythical creatures can influence their own aging speed.”
He rested a hand on Mingrui’s shoulder, squeezing lightly in reassurance.
“If Amon wishes to remain a child for now, then let him.”
Below them, Amon had apparently stolen Tolzna's head, holding it out of reach and refusing to give it back at Bethel’s insistence.
Grisha chuckled softly at the sight.
“He has all the time in the world to grow into himself.”
Amon liked high places. Towers, especially, were his most favourite spot.
That was where Adam eventually found him—perched near the top of the clock tower on the outer edge of the castle, legs dangling carelessly over the side.
“Enjoying the view?” Adam asked, not really a question, but more of a polite announcement of his presence.
Amon hummed lazily. “Medici is introducing the hounds to Bethel. It’s very entertaining to watch."
“Wouldn’t it be more entertaining if you were there personally?”
“I was, earlier.” Amon adjusted the monocle over his right eye. “But Medici kicked me out after I made the dogs chase Bethel through the Spirit World.”
Father had been delighted that Amon had “made a friend,” but in Adam’s far more objective opinion, the relationship currently consisted of Amon emotionally terrorizing a saint for amusement.
Still, relationships did grow stronger over time. And hopefully, so would Bethel’s mental fortitude if he wanted to survive.
Adam walked closer to sit beside Amon on the edge of the tower.
“Did something happen during your trip with Mysteries?”
Amon shot him a sideways look.
“Why ask when you already know?”
“It’s the polite thing to do.” Adam replied mildly. “And unlike Father, I’m not omniscient. I only noticed you’ve been unusually thoughtful lately.”
"I suppose there was something I've been thinking about." Amon replied, tone hesitant, Adam waited patiently.
“Father is an omnipotent and omniscient god,” Amon said at last, repeating the sacred title he had heard countless times throughout his existence. “Is there anything he can’t attain?”
What a dangerous question, especially coming from the Son of God.
“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. But it was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep." Softly, Adam recited the familiar myth of creation.
“Mysteries hovered over the world, witnessing everything, he made a wish. And God said: ‘Let there be light.’ and there was light.”
This was recorded as the first miracle in history.
“Isn’t that proof enough?”
Silence settled between them again.
Below, the shadows of the castle stretched longer and longer as evening descended.
“I wonder," Amon’s gaze reminded fixed on the horizon. "What Mysteries actually wished for?"
Adam turned toward him slightly.
“Do you have another interpretation of the myth?”
“What if Mingrui wished for something else?” Amon asked quietly. “Something that doesn’t exist anymore. Something even Father couldn’t give him.”
Adam’s expression didn’t change. It rarely ever did. But inwardly, even he felt faint surprise.
Had anyone else spoken those words, it would have bordered on blasphemy.
But this was only Amon. And Adam. And sharing secrets between two brothers is unbelievably easy.
“Why would you think that?” Adam asked gently.
Amon didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, his thoughts drifted back to Moon City, to the thick fog beyond the western barrier, to Mingrui’s voice saying:
My home is behind.
The memory still sat heavily inside Amon’s chest.
“If someone loses their home…” Amon began slowly, the words awkward on his tongue, “is it possible to get it back?”
A warm hand suddenly rested atop his head, heavy enough to make him lower his gaze. Below them, the giant hands of the clock continued to move steadily forward.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Time was ticking away.
“You’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Adam said softly, patting his head in a slow rhythm.
“I don’t have answers to all your questions. But, at the very least, I can tell you this… ” His voice remained calm and certain. “I like to believe that even if a home is lost, given enough time, it can always be rebuilt."
The warmth lingered for only a moment before Adam withdrew his hand. Without it, the evening air suddenly felt colder.
“As for the wish,” Adam continued as he rose to his feet, “there are only two people who can truly answer that question.”
He glanced toward the darkening sky. The sun was setting, and its place, the red moon was already beginning to rise.
“You should hurry if you want to catch him before nightfall.”
Because, everyone knew, Mysteries hated the moon.
Adam turned to leave, robes swaying softly behind him.
“Brother.”
Adam paused in his tracks, his head tilted to look back at Amon.
“What do you think of Mingrui?”
Out of all the questions posed today, this was by far the simplest to answer.
“To me, Mysteries is a valuable teacher.”
Unlike Amon, Adam never called him by name. Only by title.
“But for you, it’s different, isn’t it?”
Watching the way Amon wouldn't meet his eyes, Adam’s smile stretched a bit too wide on his face, and against his initial judgment, he said one more thing he wasn't planing to share.
"You should grow up already, He's been worrying about you."
Growing up, Amon’s world had always revolved around the same central figures.
The Kings of Angels, who more often than not found themselves unwillingly dragged into the role of babysitters. His brother, whose serene smile hid a mercilessly strict nature and an endless supply of scoldings. His Father—God—who was patient, indulgent, and willing to overlook nearly every prank Amon committed. Someone who listened to all of Amon’s ramblings with amusement, laughed at his antics, and occasionally leaned down to whisper secrets no one else was permitted to know.
And then there was Mysteries.
Mysteries, who would play make a wish with him beneath the stars. Mysteries, who told bedtime stories before spiriting him away into real life adventures. Everything magical happened during those late night hours. And Amon, unsurprisingly, became deeply attached to all of it.
And to Mingrui, who was always —always— there.
It was always surprisingly easy to sneak into Mingrui’s bedchambers.
More accurately, the protective seals surrounding the room were already familiar with Amon’s spiritual signature and instinctively allowed him passage.
Inside, the chamber was bathed in a faint silver glow. The crimson hue of the moon was nowhere to be seen.
As Amon walked further inside, he found Mingrui asleep in the center of the bed, black hair scattered loosely across the pillows.
That was something Amon had noticed long ago.
Creatures like them had no real need for sleep—not the way mortals did. Yet Mingrui still slept often, more often than any mythical creature Amon knew.
Climbing onto the bed without permission, Amon settled onto the empty side beside him. The blankets were soft and carried a familiar scent, something faintly warm and comforting, enough that Amon found himself closing his eyes for a moment.
Beside him, Mingrui stirred awake.
Warm amber eyes blinked open slowly before settling on Amon with startling clarity.
“It’s late,” he whispered into the darkness. “Are you here for a bedtime story?”
Amon shook his head.
“Shouldn’t I be too old for that by now?”
Amon found himself whispering as well. It just was so, so peaceful in here. For once, he feared disturbing it. And for once, he found himself wanting to cling to that peace just a little bit longer.
“But Amon,” Mingrui murmured softly, “just because you grow older doesn’t mean you must stop listening to fairytales.”
You see, it had all started with a fairytale.
About Peter Pan Neverland and he never, ever grew up.
And because Amon had been young once with the entire world spread before him like a playground, he had thought:
Then I, too, will never grow up.
But never was an awfully long time.
“Can I ask you something?” Amon whispered instead, locking every other thought safely away.
“You can ask me anything.”
The silver light filling the room illuminated Mingrui’s expression clearly enough for Amon to see the patience there.
Waiting for him.
But impossible questions were far easier to think than to say aloud.
“Do you miss home?”
For a brief moment, surprise flickered across Mingrui’s face—just like it once had in Moon City.
“It was a very long time ago.” Mingrui answered quietly.
Half an answer, but it answer enough.
Amon regretted asking immediately.
But it was already too late to take the question back.
“Is it…” Amon hesitated. “An anchor for you?”
Mingrui hummed softly under his breath. The sound was almost a lullaby.
“My real home no longer exists,” he said at last. “Only the memories remain. And even now, they are still my most precious anchor to humanity.”
So even memories could turn into anchors…
He could not fully understand it, but perhaps that suited someone as sentimental as Mingrui well.
“I think I also found an anchor for myself.”
Confessions always became easier in the late hours of the night.
“Did you know? Humans who ascend as angels often create families to act as anchors.”
Of course, Mingrui already knew that. Amon was merely circling around the point.
“And it just so happens that I already have a family of my own.”
Having somewhere to return to was home. Having people you wished to remain with was family. And having both was a blessing.
Cherish it. — Antigonus had once told him.
“So,” Amon whispered, leaning closer, “you have to promise me to stay here with us. In Father’s kingdom.”
Amon disliked the expression Mingrui wore when he spoke of that distant world long lost to time. That look made something restless and ugly stir inside him.
A selfish, greedy thought.
What if Mingrui leaves?
What if one day he simply disappeared, leaving behind nothing except fading memories? Then Amon would lose an anchor, and all he will have left are the self sustaining memories from the past.
He did not want that.
So here he was, extending his pinky finger for a selfish promise late at night.
“Promise me.”
To make a promise is the same as to make a wish.
For a second, Mingrui simply stared, then a quiet chuckle escaped him.
“Didn’t you just say you were too old for childish acts?”
Even when Mingrui laughed at Amon, he still raised his own hand and hooked their pinkies together.
“It’s a promise.”
It's a wish in the making. And everything he had ever wanted.
Home was never four walls, but two warm eyes and the way they looked at you. Like you've always belonged.
Home was not a place, it was a feeling, and the most precious anchor of all.