Chapter 2: Judgment and Consequence

Every movement I made embodied the true essence of the Divine. Symbols glowed beneath my feet, each step stirring up boundless power. Eagles and stags circled, celestial music echoed faintly.

The marble beneath me shimmered with light, and a cold breeze swept the hall. My robe—now a tapestry of galaxies and nebulae—billowed with each step. Even the murals on the ceiling seemed to come alive, swirling in a cosmic dance.

The legendary golden form of the Buddha was already famous, but behind me, a spirit form a hundred stories tall manifested. Its eyes lowered, sun, moon, and stars swirling in its pupils.

It was the kind of sight that would’ve made even the fiercest NFL linebacker drop to his knees. The air vibrated with an otherworldly hum, as if every note in existence had harmonized in awe.

All the angels and gods were petrified. This was the true might of the King of Heaven.

You could hear hearts pounding in the silence. A junior angel fainted, and another fumbled for her inhaler. No one dared look away.

Lily struggled to her feet and shielded the grad student behind her.

She spread her wings wide—defiant, proud, and stubborn as any human fighting for their first love. I almost admired her nerve.

The grad student, emboldened, shouted, "Are you going to bully the weak? Aren’t you afraid of being mocked by all beings?"

His voice cracked, but the echo was bold. For a moment, he looked like he believed he could win this fight—like a kid who thinks he can outrun a tornado.

I stopped, restraining myself from blasting him on the spot.

I counted to three in my head. No use crushing him like a bug—he was more confused than malicious.

I didn’t get it. In the mortal world, a grad student would cower before even a small-town mayor. Where did he get the guts to challenge the King of Heaven? Was it just ignorance?

Maybe it was love, or maybe it was just the arrogance of youth. Either way, he was out of his depth—treading water in a sea of sharks.

"King of Heaven, we truly love each other! Do you really have the heart to tear us apart as husband and wife?" Lily pleaded, her face full of misery, still trying to guilt-trip me.

Her voice broke on the word ‘love,’ echoing through the chamber. The angels shifted, some biting their lips, caught between sympathy and fear.

I asked, half-amused, "Truly love each other? How much do you love?"

I folded my arms and leaned back, letting the question linger. If love could move mountains, let’s see it.

The two exchanged a look and declared in unison, "I wish to be with you, so our love will never fade. When mountains crumble, rivers run dry, winter thunder rolls, summer snows fall, and heaven and earth unite—only then will I leave you."

It was the kind of oath you’d see written on a high school yearbook page, all grand promises and no clue what the future held. The sincerity in their eyes, though, was undeniable.

"Beautiful words."

I couldn’t help but give a thumbs up, deciding to grant their wish.

I flashed a wry smile, the sarcasm barely hidden. This was the moment—where fiction met reality, and reality never blinked first.

Those lines might have moved the original King of Heaven, but my heart was sealed in concrete—unmoved.

In the next instant, I pointed at Lily.

A cold surge of energy danced along my fingertips. The air around us thickened, as if the world itself held its breath.

A surge of pure life force was ripped from her.

It streamed out, a shimmering silver thread, vanishing into the heavens above. The hall glowed with a ghostly light, every angel frozen in shock.

"Ah—!"

Lily screamed in agony.

Her cry was raw—ragged, desperate, echoing off the distant rafters. The grad student lunged for her, only to be held back by an invisible force.

"Lily!" the grad student cried out in terror.

His voice broke, tears streaming down his face, knees digging into the marble. The pain in his voice was so real, it made a few angels in the back wipe at their own eyes.

Soon, Lily could no longer hold her human form and reverted to a simple wildflower.

Her body shimmered, shrinking until all that was left was a single wildflower—petals trembling, a drop of red at the tip.

"God! Is there really no place in this world for two people who love each other? Why must you torment us so?" the grad student wailed to the sky.

His words bounced around the hall, desperate and accusing. A few angels looked away, unable to bear the sight.

Too bad for him—I was the Heaven he was pleading to.

Was this what real authority felt like? It didn’t taste like victory. It tasted like old pennies and regret. I watched him, unmoved, the burden of authority heavy on my shoulders. Justice, not mercy, was my business today.

The heavenly rules never forbade angels from falling in love. There are plenty of soulmates in the celestial world. Many Kings even have Queens. The rules only say that angels cannot fall in love with mortals. In short: no crossing between realms. Otherwise, disaster follows. If you meet a love rival, a single thought could destroy you. Mortals always lose.

It was like a cosmic version of Romeo and Juliet, only here, the universe itself refused to bend.

"Take her, and return to the mortal world. Remember your vow. Cherish her for the rest of your life."

My tone allowed no argument.

I left no room for protest, my words as final as a judge’s gavel. The grad student knew it was over—he gathered the wildflower in trembling hands, tears staining the petals.

The grad student wanted to protest, but unfortunately for him, I wasn’t a character in some sappy fantasy romance drama. I had no patience for his nonsense.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, shoulders slumping. The Hall watched as he and the wildflower vanished in a shimmer of light—banished back to Earth, no fanfare, no curtain call.

Once the grad student returned to the mortal world, I drew a ring of light in the Grand Hall, broadcasting the grad student’s later life for all to see.

The ring flickered, cycling through his life like a TikTok highlight reel—graduation caps, wedding photos, gray hair, all in the blink of an eye. The audience leaned in, curiosity overcoming fear.

A day in Heaven is a year on Earth. Time in the lower world passed quickly.

The scenes flew by—seasons spinning, faces aging, the wildflower pressed between pages of an old book. I watched his story unfold as if through a time-lapse lens.

At first, the grad student tried everything—seeking out priests and mystics to save Lily. But mortals had no way. Later, he found Lily’s best friend, the female lead of this drama. She agreed to help him steal divine medicine. The grad student was ecstatic.

He trawled internet forums, visited dusty botanicas, even cold-called TV psychics—nothing worked. Then, hope: Lily’s best friend, a woman with the kind of charisma you’d see running for class president, promised him a shot at a miracle.

I raised my eyebrows. Well, well—no wonder she’s the protagonist. With that main character aura, she’s not going down easily.

She radiated confidence, quick with a smile and quicker with a scheme. I could tell she was going to make things interesting.

Three days later, the Heavenly Court would hold the Garden Banquet. All the great angels and gods would attend, including the Queen. The female lead planned to use the opportunity to steal divine medicine from the Queen’s palace.

It was a classic heist plot—right out of an Oceans Eleven remake, celestial edition.

Three days. It sounded close, but for the grad student, that meant waiting three years.

I chuckled. That’s patience you only see in grad school or parenthood.

I laughed. Does a poor grad student really fall in love with an angel? He just wants her body, but insists on acting all tragic and deep.

The audience shifted, the angels sharing knowing glances. Even in Heaven, love stories are complicated, motives are murky, and nobody’s as pure as they pretend to be.

......

Boom—

A deafening explosion shook the Heavenly Court.

The doors rattled, paintings toppled, and the chandeliers swayed. For a split second, it felt like the whole palace was about to come apart at the seams.

"Report!"

The call rang out, urgent as a fire alarm in a dorm building.

"Your Majesty, there’s a brawl in the Third Realm!"

The message came in a rush, the angel’s face flushed, wings disheveled.

The clairvoyant and clairaudient angels rushed in.

They skidded to a halt before the throne, feathers flying, eyes wild. You could almost smell the adrenaline—like EMTs at the scene of a pile-up.

"The Young Sky King of the Third Realm, after a hundred years of wandering in the mortal world, brought back a demoness and made her his mistress. Just now, his mistress and his main wife got into a fight—they’re threatening to drag the entire celestial world down with them!"

Their voices overlapped, tripping over each other in their haste to be heard. I pictured the celestial tabloids already working on headlines.

They reported breathlessly, one after another.

The whole court was abuzz. I could almost hear the celestial rumor mill spinning into overdrive.

"So dramatic?" I was honestly speechless at these angels. At the drop of a hat, they want to destroy all realms and drag everyone into their mess.

I ran a hand through my hair, half-laughing, half-groaning. There was always someone making a scene—like family Thanksgiving with a little more firepower.

Seriously, what did the realms ever do to you?

If I had a dollar for every time the celestial world nearly fell apart over a lovers’ spat, I could pay off my student loans twice over.

There are family feuds in the mortal world—change the setting, and the drama continues in the celestial realm. It’s absurd.

I wondered if it was always like this, or if the universe had just caught a bad case of reality TV fever.

Still, I do love watching a good catfight.

Not that I’d ever admit it out loud, but a little chaos now and then does keep things interesting.

But most importantly, I had to uphold the dignity of the Heavenly Court.

Order was my job now. Time to lay down the law, American style—fair, firm, and no-nonsense.

Lower world training, huh? More like going down to pick up women. If this is allowed, why bother with the Heavenly Court at all? If everyone wants a woman, just sneak her in. Angels live for thousands or tens of thousands of years—soon enough, the whole celestial world will be full of entitled second-generation angels who never strive for anything.

My mind flashed to college legacy kids who coasted on their last names—never earning their stripes, never knowing what it meant to hustle.

Meanwhile, mortals struggle for a thousand years just to ascend, and they can’t even compete with these bluebloods?

I felt a twinge of sympathy for the little guy—the ones who clawed their way up, only to be passed over by celestial nepotism.

Absolutely not.

I squared my shoulders, ready to bring the hammer down. In Heaven, no one—angel, demon, or mortal—gets a free pass. Not on my watch.