CHAPTER 499: CHAPTER 429: THE AGE OF MAGIC AND MIRACLES

Maisy knew that Schiller had received a mission from God, a mission that was deeply related to the new era God had spoken of, akin to the horns Solamus once sounded for the descent upon Heaven.

The youngest of the Great Angels couldn’t help but harbor many doubts; were the fates of those Exiles a part of Schiller’s mission?

"What are you thinking about?"

Schiller looked at the people of Logos on the ground with amusement, caught a glimpse of Maisy’s wary eyes, and asked this question.

"...Schiller, is their current plight really your mission?"

Maisy hesitated before asking.

Schiller turned and looked at him with a smile,

"Maisy, conspiracies and suspicions really cling to you, giving you such thoughts.

I’ve said before, in this story, I’ve done nothing, played no part."

Seeing him so reassuringly adamant, Maisy couldn’t help but remain half-convinced. Afterward, the Great Angel couldn’t resist asking:

"So what’s next... what are you going to do?

How will you complete the mission God has given you?"

Schiller didn’t provide a direct answer but instead said:

"Maisy, that is the mission God has entrusted to me.

How I am to proceed, only God knows, apart from myself."

Maisy ought to trust Schiller, also a Great Angel, yet having witnessed the division among the people of Logos, he always harbored an elusive doubt toward Schiller.

He no longer trusted Schiller as he had before.

But even without trust, what could he do?

Schiller had already been given a mission by God, and now, he was about to carry out that mission meant for him.

"You... you won’t tell me, no matter what, will you?"

Maisy asked softly.

Schiller cleverly declined to answer:

"If I achieve any result, you will be the first to witness it."

Maisy sighed helplessly. Despite feeling uneasy about Schiller, he was still a Great Angel of Heaven, created directly from the Divine spirit like himself.

No matter what, a Great Angel would never fall like a mortal, right?

..................

After bidding farewell to Maisy, Schiller stepped into the Celestial Kingdom.

From afar, the stars were as numerous as grains of sand, seemingly leaning on one another, but only when one truly stepped into the Celestial Kingdom could one realize the vast distances separating these seemingly interconnected stars.

In these vast distances, there was nothing, only endless void.

Schiller ventured deeper into the Celestial Kingdom.

The further he went, the fewer the stars became, and the light that could blot out the night sky became increasingly dim. The depths were extremely empty, with a vast darkness that held no light, the depths of the Celestial Kingdom like an inky Abyss, devouring countless things.

Schiller stopped in his tracks, looking around to confirm that he had come to a place of darkness without light.

"This is the place..."

Schiller whispered.

In the deepest part of the Celestial Kingdom, it seemed like the place furthest from the Holy Realm where God resided, as if it were the remotest corner of the entire world.

Schiller hissed, flicking his tongue like a serpent, and slowly extended his hand, fingers spread wide, to reveal a dense clump of pure white mist coalescing in his palm.

The Great Angel slowly lowered the mist from his hand, and it began to float midair; then, as he beat his wings, showering down strands and threads of angelic light, the mist roiled and started to stretch out in all directions.

Above Heaven, the Angels built wondrous sights not of the Mortal World, leaning on the cloud seas created by God.

The surging Cloud Sea was the foundation upon which they exhibited their talents.

Schiller brought a trail of mist from Heaven to this endlessly dark abyss of the Celestial Kingdom, intending to create something here.

As the mist continued to spread, it stretched for thousands of miles in a short period, while Schiller quietly waited for the expansion to cease.

Soon after, the spreading of the mist slowed, becoming extremely sluggish—it seemed to have reached its limit.

Schiller stepped onto the Cloud Sea in this part of the Celestial Kingdom and realized how insignificant it was amid the vast night sky beneath his feet.

Yet its significance far surpassed that of the competing Stars.

Schiller extended his hand above the Cloud Sea, spreading his Six Wings. The divine radiance in which he bathed day and night seemed to pour forth at that moment, enveloping both the entire Cloud Sea and Schiller within it.

In the blink of an eye, myriad images flashed across the Great Angel’s eyes, and then in a near-exhaustless brilliance, he reached out his hand and grasped, melding mist and light together. Their forms twisted, their appearances remolded, continually changing into various shapes.

Moments later, from within the thick mist, a brand-new life slowly emerged.

Schiller gazed at his creation.

It was a life formed from the fusion of light and mist, with naïve and clear eyes full of confusion and bewilderment, a body with the form of a snake and the head of a human, whose simple mind knew not the concept of wisdom.

"It’s a success... a success.

This is a life uniquely created by me!"

Schiller whispered excitedly to himself.

The Great Angel Schiller had created life before; when Heaven was still a dream of God’s, the Great Angels had created lesser Angels, but those were not their unique creations and more like creations following the blueprints given by God.

Yet, the serpent-bodied, human-headed life before him was truly Schiller’s own innovation.

What kind of life was it?

On the earth, albeit the myriad forms of life in the Mortal World, each with their own marvels, at their core, they all need water, food, and other nutrients to survive. But the life Schiller created was entirely different.

It did not subsist on water or food but on benevolence.

Benevolence was their sustenance; they regarded it as mortals did wheat or other grains, living in a realm of spirit, parasitic on the souls of mortals, drawing strength from the power of the heart, and life from the heart’s wellspring.

It was a new kind of life never before seen in this world—a spiritual life.

Schiller looked forward to his creation with great expectation.

Standing on the Cloud Sea, the bewildered life form raised its head, looking up at the Angel enveloped in wings. There he stood, majestic, with the light between his wings like the fount of all things, holding the fate of the entire race.

And in its ears, there echoed a voice of boundless grandeur.

"You are my creation,

heed my thoughts, obey my name."

That scene was like a Divine being, showing its creation the steadfast loyalty and the undying faith that must not be severed for a million years.

In Schiller’s mind, he envisioned himself like Solamus, sounding the trumpet of changing eras, and that... would be the age of Magic and Miracles.