Chapter 46: Faith
The news that God had issued an impossible task to humanity spread throughout Heaven. No sooner had Beelzebub emerged from the Fifth Heaven than he heard rumors regarding humanity's attempt to construct a celestial wall.
Upon his release from confinement, he was technically required to proceed immediately to the Seventh Heaven to await orders. However, the Arch-Seraph—the only being he respected from the bottom of his heart—was currently under house arrest. Thus, without a moment's hesitation, the instant he received the news, he flew downward from the Sixth Heaven.
The Land of Eternal Night lay desolate and empty, save for the figures of humans wandering aimlessly within it.
He needed not expend any effort to find them; hiding behind a simulated mountain, he watched as they drifted through the Lunar Heaven—bewildered and idle—and could not suppress a smile of malicious glee.
"Serves them right!"
Gleefully savoring their misfortune, he returned to the Fifth Heaven, eager to share the news with Lucifer as soon as possible; he assumed Lucifer would be delighted.
Yet, the Arch-Seraph—assailed by the biting cold and encrusted from head to toe in frost—merely lifted his gaze to cast a fleeting glance at him.
"You are mistaken, Beelzebub."
Beelzebub paused in bewilderment, and the Arch-Seraph continued:
"What appears to be an impossible task may, in fact, serve to spread the name of Adam throughout Heaven."
"Previously, they were confined within the Garden of Eden, and their obscurity to the outside world was of little consequence. But now that God has placed them within the First Heaven, those angels unaware of the divine machinations are bound to grow curious about the humans constructing a wall along the perimeter."
This task would become the very catalyst for humanity's integration into Heaven.
The Prince of the Dominions remained skeptical of humanity's capabilities. "Humans are incapable of building a wall," he asserted. "Even if they do gain a name for themselves, it will be nothing more than a reputation for folly—a source of mockery for us all."
Lucifer shook his head.
There is no such thing as an impossible task; it merely depends on whether God chooses to entrust it to someone.
Beelzebub was momentarily stunned by the serene conviction in Lucifer's words: "There is no such thing as impossible."
Reflecting upon it later, he realized just how far the Arch-Seraph transcended the ordinary angels. Possessing immense power and unparalleled intellect, Lucifer had spent countless years resolving the myriad bizarre and convoluted challenges God had set before them. It was just like that time long ago, when God had commanded them to create angels themselves—it was Lucifer who had devised the method, becoming the first to successfully create Asmodeus, thereby providing a blueprint for the others to follow. As Beelzebub recalled the events of the past, a flicker of emotion stirred in his eyes; reflecting upon their current plight made the ache in his heart even more acute. Yet, he swiftly suppressed this ill-timed wave of melancholy and voiced his doubts.
After all, Adam was no Archseraph; no matter how one looked at it, it seemed utterly impossible for him—with his frail human body—to resolve this crisis!
"That is precisely where God's brilliance lies."
Lucifer appeared to have seen through the enigma; a rare, intense glint flashed within his emerald eyes as he coolly deduced the truth of the matter.
God never spoke in vain. Since He had declared it so, humanity was bound to succeed in constructing the walls—and in a manner far beyond his own ability to foresee.
"Adam will undoubtedly make his mark." He instructed Beelzebub to keep a close watch on humanity's movements.
Beelzebub was astonished by the high regard his commander held for humans, yet he did not question his words. Obediently, he prepared to return to the Lunar Heaven—only to encounter an unexpected interloper halfway there.
"What a delightful coincidence, Your Highness." The black-haired female angel smiled beguilingly, her bewitching crimson eyes radiating an aura of dark allure. She leaned languidly against one of the celestial pillars of the Fourth Heaven, extending a single, alabaster leg to block his path.
"Lilith." Beelzebub narrowed his eyes, regarding his former subordinate—whose appearance had undergone such a drastic transformation—with a look of amusement. "You've got quite a nerve. To think you're still lurking here in Heaven! I hear Gabriel has nearly turned the Nine Heavens upside down in her hunt for you."
"I shall take that as a compliment from you, then." The Fallen Angel gave a dismissive scoff, then ceased to conceal her true intentions.
"You are bound for the Lunar Heaven, are you not? Would you be so kind as to grant me passage?"
Security within Heaven had been heightened; the aura of a Fallen Angel was utterly discordant with the celestial atmosphere, making exposure all too likely. However, if she could cloak herself in the power of Beelzebub—a Seraph—the danger would vanish.
"What do you intend to do?"
"Nothing at all." Lilith smiled once more.
She simply wished to witness with her own eyes the ultimate fate that would befall the very humans who had brought her to this wretched pass.
Beelzebub regarded her thoughtfully. If Lilith had indeed been hiding within Heaven, she must surely have heard of the Divine Oracle. *With such a cunning look on her face—and brimming with such confidence—she is surely bound to put on quite a show for me.*
"In that case, let's go."
So-called "impotent rage"—that most useless form of catharsis within the domains governed by the gods. One may vent for as long as one pleases; ultimately, it is nothing more than a sheer waste of time.
Adam of the Lunar Heaven finally managed to calm himself down after a period of self-pity so prolonged that it had lost its very meaning.
He fixed his gaze upon the luminous ore scattered across the ground—specifically upon those pieces that had already taken shape, piled high like miniature mountains.
These were the only tangible materials he could find in this place.
"But what are we to do in the other layers of Heaven?" Eve asked him. "Are there just as many stones in those places, too?"
"Let's finish this layer first before we worry about the rest," Adam replied. He had absolutely no desire to contemplate a future that filled him with despair at the mere thought of it; instead, relying solely on brute force, he hauled several large stones from the vicinity and attempted to stack them atop one another.
The uneven stones promptly tumbled down in a heap.
"It's no use; they simply won't stand upright," Eve said, sounding disappointed.
"Then we'll just have to find a way to make them stand," Adam stated curtly. He picked up a piece of ore and began grinding it against another, working until he had smoothed two surfaces into flat planes capable of stacking against one another.
It was no easy task, yet Adam did not stop. He turned a deaf ear to Eve's calls, grinding the stones ceaselessly until his hands were covered in blood blisters.
Tinged with the dark stain of blood, the luminous stones gradually rose higher. At first, the pile reached only to their ankles; then to their calves; then past their thighs; until, finally, it towered even higher than a human being.
*Adam is working so hard; I can't just sit here doing nothing. At the very least, I need to find something for us to eat.* Biting her lip as this thought crossed her mind, Eve began to search the surroundings for edible food. Before long, nestled within the crevices of the ore, she discovered a cluster of mushrooms—glowing just like the stones themselves. They were small in size, tucked away in the cracks, and shimmered with a soft, gentle light.
"Mushrooms!" Thinking of their savory, delicious taste, she was overcome with delight and eagerly reached out to gather them. "You mustn't eat that," a resonant angelic voice stopped her.
"Lord Michael?" Eve blinked, gazing at the Archangel as he drew near.
"You must remember: the more beautiful a mushroom looks, the more you must refrain from touching it," Michael said, then produced some food and offered it to the Mother of Humanity.
"These are fruits from the Garden of Eden," Eve recognized them instantly. "If it weren't for me, we would never have fallen to such depths; and Adam... he wouldn't have to suffer this, either."
She shed tears. Following Eve's gaze, Michael looked into the distance; Adam was still repeating the motions of grinding and stacking. He seemed to have forgotten his surroundings, focusing solely on the task at hand.
That seemingly viable plan had kindled a fervent hope within him.
Michael's brow furrowed slightly, troubled by Adam's feverish intensity.
For success was impossible.
Sure enough, once the pile of stones—built without any proper foundation—exceeded its structural limit, it immediately collapsed.
"No!" Eve let out a sharp, desperate shriek. Barefoot, she rushed toward the rubble, attempting to help her husband salvage the pile.
"Calm yourself, Eve."
Unexpectedly, Adam remained perfectly calm.
He did not break down.
Far from breaking down, he instead grinned broadly and smiled at them.
"If I just adjust the angle... I can stack it even higher."
He crouched down to select usable stones from the rubble, then began grinding fresh ore once more. Drops of crimson blood fell, leaving mottled stains upon the lunar ground, as Adam single-mindedly continued to build his cairn.
When a single layer proved unstable, he built an additional ring of stones around the perimeter. Michael was moved by his unwavering conviction and found his own view of humanity beginning to shift.
Yet conviction cannot alter reality; he could not bear to watch.
"Foolish humans." Beelzebub curled his lip, then turned to ask Lilith, "Do you think he'll succeed?"
"He won't," Lilith replied, a peculiar smile playing upon her lips. "If he keeps messing with those stones, they certainly won't treat him kindly."
"Those ores are like poisonous mushrooms—the more beautiful they are, the more lethal they become. They will sap his strength, then assault his nerves, and finally invade his fragile body."
"You brought something this dangerous into Heaven?!" Beelzebub stared at her in utter disbelief.
"What does it matter? To the robust bodies of angels, such injuries are utterly trivial."
"And as for the Lunar Sphere—beauty is all that matters here, isn't it?"
Whether it was Lilith before her Fall or Lilith after it, her way of thinking remained utterly incomprehensible to him.
Beelzebub thought this with sullen resentment as he continued to observe Adam from the shadows.
A few days later, just as Lilith had predicted, Adam—who had been standing atop the wall of ore—suddenly lost his footing and tumbled down from the parapet.
"He's done for!" Lilith clapped her hands and cried out, delighted that her unwitting actions had paved the way for her vengeance.
Beelzebub, however, watched as Michael descended from the heavens, lifted the human to his feet, and used his own divine power to heal his wounds.
"That heartless Michael!" He was absolutely livid with rage. He had noticed over the past few days that Michael frequently came down to check on the human. "With his magnificent robes and golden armor—he certainly cuts a grand figure! The radiant glory of the Grand Cathedral must have made him completely forget about the Prince suffering back in the Martian Sphere!"
Michael confirmed that the luminescent ores were indeed harmful to the human constitution; Adam was thus forced to abandon his plan. Left completely at a loss, he chose instead to simply traverse Heaven on foot. His shattered hopes nearly drained the very life force from him; he wandered through the vast, dark night in a state of utter desolation, letting his thoughts drift aimlessly, until he seemed to become nothing more than a hollow automaton.
Eve found Adam beside a brilliant, shining star. She gently roused the man and fed him the provisions she had brought along.
As the sweet, luscious fruit turned to juice and flowed into his stomach, Adam began to regain his senses. He took a good look at what Eve had brought him—and felt a flicker of surprise.
Ever since leaving the Garden of Eden, it had been a very long time since he had tasted food so fresh and bountiful. "It was a gift from an angel," Eve said.
"From Lord Michael?"
"No, it was an angel I didn't recognize—he looked so small, smaller even than us."
"Is that so? It has been a long time since I last felt the benevolence of an angel."
"It is because your efforts did not go unnoticed by them," Eve said, her voice catching with emotion.
Faith, perhaps, cannot take the place of reality; yet, in the end, it did sway the angels—for they had witnessed humanity's struggles with their own eyes.
"My efforts?" Adam gave a bitter laugh. What efforts of his were there to speak of?
"I have exhausted every possible method, yet I cannot do it, Eve."
"It is simply impossible for me," he said despondently. "Those stones are toxic; they are slowly eroding my health, rendering all my hard work utterly in vain."
Eve held him close. For the first time in ages, the man closed his eyes within her embrace; exhaustion tormented him—a torment akin to God's own curse.
He was doomed to toil for all eternity. He gazed at the drifting clouds in the distance, his eyes dim with despair.
'Oh, my Father... what exactly is it that You wish of me? How am I to erect a wall in this place?'
'Please, have mercy upon this wretched creature groveling at Your feet.'
He thought these thoughts in utter hopelessness—and then, something astonishing occurred.
Before his very eyes, the clouds began to undergo a slow transformation.
Startled, he sat upright within Eve's arms.
"Adam?"
"Look at the clouds!" Adam cried out excitedly, pointing into the distance.
There, in the direction he indicated, lay a single brick of cloud—resting quietly, radiating an aura of profound serenity.
"Father! It is Father who has answered me!"
Adam had successfully solidified the clouds, molding them into the shape of bricks. Though crude in form, the feat left even Michael astonished.
"How did you do that?" he could not help but ask.
Adam made no attempt to conceal the truth; instead, he joyfully shared his experience with the angel.
"Whenever I silently offer a prayer to Father in my heart, the clouds slowly begin to coalesce, taking on whatever shape I desire."
Slowly, yet successfully, Adam erected a wall in Heaven—a structure unlike any seen before. Beelzebub brought word of this event to Lucifer.
"My Lord... what manner of power is this?"
It was neither the power of angels, nor the power of demons. It is formless and intangible, lurking deep within the human spirit; only when it is roused does it reveal even the slightest glimpse of itself.
"Faith." Upon hearing Beelzebub's description, Lucifer swiftly uttered its name. Though faint, it was indeed faith.
"To think that human faith could actually give rise to such extraordinary abilities!"
"No—unless God responds to it, that faith is utterly useless," Lucifer remarked grimly, for he sensed a threat.
A threat unlike any he had ever faced before.
God was guiding Adam.
He knew exactly what was causing him such anguish.
God had never guided *him* with such patience and meticulous care.
[Hebrew Mythology] The Arduous Chronicle of a World's Cultivation — by the Great Author "Dan Mu'ai"