So, I hasten to congratulate myself: all the spells from the grimoire that I decided to try are working! And they're working wonderfully! From second-level runes and seals to the fundamentals of third-level conceptual magic – everything worked like clockwork. The feeling of almost limitless possibilities was intoxicating.
What to do now? It seems I don't have any urgent matters or special plans for today. The training session was successful, even more so. Maybe… spend time with Lute? I think I was just wanting to talk to her frankly, to get to know her better. After all, she is… well, definitely dear to me. I'm not sure yet if I can talk about "love," considering all the confusion in my head, but I clearly have strong, warm feelings for her. And she deserves more than being a simple mistress or something like that. I need to try to build some kind of normal relationship.
I teleport home, straight into the living room. And I find Lute at the table, bent over some papers and a tablet. An unusual sight.
"Hey, beautiful! What are you doing?" I smile, approaching her. She had never engaged in such office drudgery before, as far as I remembered. I was even intrigued.
"Adam? Are you free already?" she raised her head, smiling tiredly at me. "I thought you'd be stuck at the training ground all day."
"Yep, everything went perfectly! I'm now an officially fucking strong dude!" I winked, sitting down on the chair opposite her. "Not that I wasn't before, of course, but now it's even cooler. So, what are you writing?"
"Oh," she sighed, putting down her stylus. "The thing is, that idea of yours about re-arming the exorcists… it's already been put into preliminary development. Sera gave the go-ahead for an feasibility assessment. So now Abel is trying to set up possible production of firearms from angelic metal, and I'm handling the preliminary paperwork for all of it – requirements, specifications, possible protocols, to avoid mistakes later. I also need to draft a new training program for the girls, since many of them have absolutely no experience with such weapons."
Hmm. Interesting. Have I mentioned that Adam completely blew off all his administrative and organizational duties as Head of the Exorcists, not counting the direct execution of the exterminations themselves? Well, I just mentioned it. Because I myself only learned this fact just now, from her words. It seems Lute and, possibly, Abel had always shouldered all the routine work. By the way, I should find out more about him. My son, after all…
"Sounds boring. And how's it going? Any problems?"
"Actually, yes, there are plenty of problems," Lute rubbed her temples. "Theoretically, the production itself could, of course, be pushed onto Lady Sera or other seraphim by sweet-talking them – they surely have the capabilities. That would immediately ease the task. But lately, they've been constantly busy with their own affairs, and I'm not sure that burdening them with this as well is a good idea. Besides, there's no urgent need yet. There's no angelic metal in the Pride Ring after your… operation. And demons from other rings don't actively oppose us during clean-ups. So for now, spears and swords will do."
"And what exactly is wrong with the production? What's the snag?"
"Well, besides needing to find or train specialists in creating and maintaining firearms specifically – that's not an unsolvable problem, there are craftsmen in Heaven – we also need to find or create machines for processing angelic metal into the required shapes! Conduct numerous tests for durability, for the metal's reaction with different energies… We don't just have metal, but angelic metal; there are no analogues on Earth. And bullets? Bullets will also have to be made from angelic metal, otherwise they'll be useless against demons. And that means we'll again be literally scattering weapons across Hell that can be used against us! Collect spent casings and bullets after every battle? That would drastically slow down the pace of extermination and reduce the number of sinners killed in the allotted time. And as for what gunpowder or other energy source to use for the shot, I won't even mention it! Standard earthly gunpowder won't work here – already tested, and there are no ideas for a replacement yet."
Yeah, I was expecting to learn something new, but I didn't think I'd get such a detailed and depressing tirade about production problems. It seems my brilliant idea, recently voiced to Sera, had run into the harsh reality of angelic technical limitations in practice.
"But why gunpowder and production machines at all?" I asked, a little surprised by such a mundane approach.
She looked at me like I was a complete idiot. Lute even arched an eyebrow elegantly.
"And how else are we supposed to produce weapons and ammunition, Adam?"
"Well… like this, for example?" I concentrated and formed a metallic combat spear in my hand from pure Light, exactly like the exorcists'. "Isn't it easier to just create these weapons directly from Light? Or," I slightly altered the command, and the spear in my hand 'flowed,' changing shape, transforming into a futuristic-looking pistol. True, without the internals for now, just the outer shell – I have absolutely no idea how firearms are constructed. "Just change the shape of existing angelic metal?"
Lute stared intently at the pistol in my hand, then at me, for a few seconds, then sighed heavily.
"Adam… you do realize that this… creating or reshaping matter from pure energy so easily… only apostles or the seraphim themselves are capable of that? And even then, it's not a fact they could do it as quickly and easily as you."
I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"What do you mean?"
"You were created in the image and likeness of the seraphim, from the pure Light that fills our world! And your abilities are corresponding. You are literally a particle of Light itself. And we… I, other angels, exorcists… we were created from flesh and blood, even if we later received immortality here in Heaven. For you, manipulating Light is as natural as breathing. For us, it's much harder, requires enormous concentration and strength. Just to feel and direct the flow of Light is already difficult, and that's for us – exorcists, whom you personally once transformed, cleansing us with your Light from the last remnants of earthly Darkness and strengthening our connection to it! We can't just create things out of nothing."
"Uh-huh… I see," I drawled. It seemed I was beginning to understand the scale of the gap between me (and the seraphim) and the other angels in terms of power mastery. "Then… how about my help? I've learned a lot now. And I want to try creating something myself, to ease this re-armament process…" I paused for a second, recalling my experiments on the training ground. "Maybe I can even create something like energy weapons, blasters that won't need bullets, so that won't be a problem."
"…" Lute looked at me in surprise, her eyes widening.
"Well, what?" I didn't understand her reaction.
"Nothing…" she quickly averted her gaze back to her papers, but I noticed a faint blush on her cheeks. "Well… okay. If you can really create something workable and suitable for mass production, that would help a lot."
"Deal! I'll take care of it!" I nodded enthusiastically. "By the way, since you're almost free… Don't you want to go somewhere out in nature? Picnic, lake, the whole deal? We could talk…"
"No," her answer was unexpectedly sharp and quick. I was even a bit taken aback.
"Oh… well, alright. Okay. How about… going to a restaurant?" I decided not to back down, trying another approach. I really wanted to talk to her, to get to know her better. I had long stopped being afraid that someone would notice my changed behavior and suspect something was wrong. Certainly not Lute. She accepted me as I am now, without even thinking of mourning that her Adam had been "replaced."
"A restaurant?" A slight smirk appeared on her face. "Well… since you're asking so nicely…"
"I'm asking very nicely," I winked at her.
"Then I agree," she smiled, warmer this time. "Tonight?"
"Uh-huh. I'll swing by for you in the evening. Will three hours be enough for you to get ready?"
"More than enough!" she huffed, theatrically rolling her eyes. "I'm a warrior, Adam, not some pampered aristocrat who spends half a day in front of a mirror!"
"It's a date then!" I leaned in and quickly kissed her. She returned the kiss, then buried herself in her papers again.
"Alright. Good luck with your experiments, Adam."
I stepped through a portal, and here I was again on the familiar training ground. I've really been coming here a lot today…
So, new task: create energy weapons for the exorcists. Those beams I used to fire – that was just concentrated Light, pure destructive power, enough to annihilate practically any Darkness. But that required my personal reserve. What if I used the idea of an accumulator, like in Stolas's grimoire? Create a powerful "battery," fill it to the brim with my Light, and then stick this battery into the body of a pistol or rifle? And add a simple mechanism – a trigger – that would allow a small but powerful charge of this Light to be released in the direction of the muzzle when the trigger is pulled?
I don't know why ordinary angels are so weak in direct Light manipulation, especially since even sinners in Hell have no problem doing whatever they want with Darkness, using it for their abilities. Angels are, by nature, analogous to sinners (former mortal souls). So, theoretically, they should have the potential to control Light, but for some reason, it's undeveloped. Why is everything like this? Hmm… Okay, another question for the pile of those I won't get an answer to yet. Let's shelve it with the other questions for Sera. Right now, I need to focus on creating a blaster prototype.
I tinkered with this task for a good two hours. And, to my surprise and wild irritation, my first prototype didn't work out. No, it worked, but not at all as I expected. When I pulled the trigger, it simply exploded in my hands with a blinding flash of light! What the hell?! Fortunately, it didn't harm me at all (my own Light couldn't hurt me, thank… uh… just thank goodness!), but for a moment, I really shit myself. I thought, that's it, game over. Busting my ass so much for power, studying magic, making plans – only to blow myself up so stupidly with my own invention! Phew, dodged a bullet…
In the end, after spending another hour or so analyzing the error and rethinking the design, I arrived at a more complex but, hopefully, safer version. Now the system worked on two accumulators. The main "battery," large and capacious, was inserted into a special slot in the grip. Its contacts touched another, tiny "battery"-capacitor, located in the weapon's mechanism itself. Light continuously flowed from the first battery into the second, instantly filling its small volume. When the trigger was pulled, the Light output from the first, large accumulator was instantly cut off by a special valve. But the output from the second, small accumulator, on the contrary, opened резко, allowing the entire charge stored in it to be instantly released forward, through a focusing lens in the muzzle. Release the trigger – the valve on the large accumulator opened, the one on the small one closed, and the capacitor instantly recharged for the next shot. Simple, elegant, and most importantly, safe!
I fired at targets – it worked perfectly. A powerful, concentrated beam of Light hit the target precisely, leaving melted holes in the training dummies. One large accumulator, as I estimated, was enough for 127 such shots, after which it needed to be either recharged with my Light or simply replaced with a new one.
The result, of course, was excellent. Only… the realization of the scale of the problem dampened my enthusiasm a bit. This is so primitive compared to what a true Master like Paimon could create! Hell, there was more energy even in that tiny capacitor-accumulator than in the entire reserve of a dozen average exorcists, not to mention ordinary angels! So I was afraid that in the near future, I'd have to work as a personal "generator," producing these very battery-accumulators on an industrial scale. And then also moonlight as a conveyor belt and assembly line, creating the blaster casings themselves from Light, where these batteries would be inserted. Yeah, right… If I had Paimon's skills and knowledge, I could just create some kind of artifact-factory that would assemble both blasters and batteries itself, drawing energy from the surrounding space of Heaven.
Every time I think about it, it becomes downright offensive that Adam, that damn archangel, was at such a primitive level of power mastery! And not a single fucking prick among the seraphim bothered to fix it over all these millennia! Not a single damn seraphim offered him proper training! Even during the War with Hell, when angels were dying by the hundreds and thousands every day, Adam, their commander-in-chief, had to "grope" his way through the local Light magic by trial and error, inventing his primitive techniques!
More and more often, thoughts about the strangeness, illogicality, and some kind of stupidity, even negligence, in the behavior of the seraphim arose in my head…
Meanwhile, the clock showed it was already time to get ready for the date. Time to take my warrior girl to a restaurant. And I, like a champ, even knew in advance which one.
While I was fiddling with the blaster, I managed to chat in the general chat with a few exorcist girls, asking for advice on a good restaurant in Heaven. After half an hour of lively discussion and a small "war" for the title of "the very best," they finally recommended a little restaurant called "The Last Bastion." Its owner (who was also the head chef) was a veteran of that same War with Hell, a former exorcist who had retired. Which meant he had to be an excellent cook – he's been cooking for thousands of years, surely he's achieved perfection. Plus, the atmosphere should be suitable for Lute and me.
Anyway, I quickly tidied myself up, changed my now-familiar white suit for something more formal – found a picture of an elegant black-gray suit with a white shirt online, seemed like a pretty good option – and teleported to Lute.
She was already ready and waiting for me. And she looked… stunning. She was wearing a simple but elegant dark blue dress that accentuated her figure and contrasted beautifully with her light hair and golden eyes. She was clearly a little embarrassed, standing before me in such an unaccustomed outfit for her.
"You look magnificent, Lute," I said sincerely, unable to hold back my admiration.
"Thanks, Adam, you also look very… good," she blushed slightly but smiled.
We left the house. I offered her my arm, she accepted it with a slight hesitation, and we slowly walked along the shining streets of Heaven towards the restaurant.
The Last Bastion Restaurant
The restaurant turned out to be a cozy establishment, decorated in a stern but elegant style. Dark wood, subdued lighting, comfortable armchairs. Old engravings depicting angelic warriors hung on the walls, along with several skillfully made replicas of angelic metal. The atmosphere was calm and inviting.
We were greeted by the owner himself – a tall, sturdily built old man with graying temples and many old scars on his face and hands, which he didn't try to hide. His face was stern, but his eyes looked kind. He greeted us in a strangely familiar, slightly mournful, monotonous voice (and really, I'd seen him somewhere before, and heard the voice…), led us to a secluded table by the window, and promised to personally oversee our order.
We placed our order (Lute chose some meat "something-or-other," and I decided to try the local red fish) and started talking. At first, about all sorts of trivial things – training, the weather in Heaven (I learned it's always sunny here), my blaster experiments today (I briefly told her about my success). And then I carefully steered the conversation to more personal topics.
"Lute," I began a little awkwardly, "I was thinking… we spend quite a lot of time together, but I know almost nothing about you. About your life before you became an exorcist, for example. Wouldn't you like to tell me? If it's not too personal, of course…"
She looked at me in surprise, then averted her gaze to the window. She was silent for a while, and then spoke softly:
"I don't really like to remember the past, Adam. It was… not the happiest."
"I understand. But… I'd like to get to know you better."
She sighed and looked at me again. There was some old sadness in her eyes.
"Alright. Since you ask… In life, on Earth, I was the only daughter of a merchant. My father desperately wanted an heir, a son, to pass on his fortune and lands. And when I was born… he decided to hide my gender. I was raised as a boy, dressed in boys' clothes, taught fencing and horse riding. Everyone around thought I was his heir. I was lonely. I couldn't be my true self then."
"And then? How did you… die?"
"I ran away," her voice became even quieter. "When I turned thirteen, my father found me a 'bride' – the daughter of a slave trader from Egypt. He wanted to arrange some kind of dynastic marriage to strengthen his position. I realized I couldn't live like that anymore. I ran away from home at night, just ran into the forest near our house. I thought I could hide, start a new life… But I got lost. It was raining, it was cold… I fell off a cliff and… woke up here, in Heaven. As far as I understood, I died from hypothermia and injuries."
"Oh, Lute…" honestly, I'm not sure what to say in moments like these.
"When I got to Heaven, I lived in a small town. It was quiet, peaceful… And then… then demons attacked our town. They killed all the men and tried to take the women captive… I tried to fight, but what could I do? They cornered me… And at the very last moment, when one of the demons was about to cut off my head for resisting… you appeared. You saved me. Killed those creatures, tore them all apart. After that, I was able to become an exorcist. And you gave me a new purpose in life."
She fell silent, looking at me with a sad, soulful gaze. Now I understood the basis of her devotion to Adam – he was her savior, a father figure in a way.
"So how… old are you, then?" I asked cautiously, doing some mental math. If she remembered that era…
"About six thousand," she answered calmly. "Give or take a couple of centuries."
Six thousand years! And she acted and looked… well, twenty at most! And it would be one thing if she only looked young, but she also thought like a twenty-year-old girl! This dissonance just wouldn't fit in my head. Maybe angels just didn't age externally and internally after a certain age? Another mystery.
We talked a little more about her past, about the feelings she experienced back then, being saved by Adam. She admitted that the past Adam had been everything to her – commander, savior, almost a deity in her eyes. Unattainable, powerful, he gave her a new purpose, strength, and a place in this world. She admired him immensely and, of course, loved him, almost fanatically.
But the current me was different. She said, choosing her words gently, that after my "memory loss," I had become, as it were… closer? Not such a distant idol as she had seen me before. More human, if that word even applies to the first man. Yes, less predictable, sometimes sharp or unexpectedly pensive, immersed in my dark thoughts, which the former Adam seemed not to have. But at the same time – I had become more understandable and… familiar to her. She saw my internal struggle, my confusion, my sudden outbursts of anger or insecurity, and this, paradoxically, made me more real in her eyes. Not just a symbol of indestructible strength or an ideal warrior of Heaven, but someone… real. Someone alive, with their own fears and doubts. And this, it seemed, created a different, perhaps even deeper and more personal connection between us than the previous worship of an "ideal."
Then we moved on to our current relationship. I gathered my courage and honestly admitted that I had very strong, warm feelings for her, that she had become incredibly dear to me in this short time. But at the same time, I couldn't quite figure myself out yet, my desires, and what exactly I was feeling. I said I didn't want to deceive her or give false hopes until I figured things out myself. She listened attentively, her golden eyes looking straight into my soul. And then she simply took my hand in hers and quietly said that she understood. That she saw my struggle. And that she was ready to be by my side, however long it took me to find myself. This simple answer, this quiet support, meant more to me than any ardent confessions. It seemed, in that moment, we really did become a little closer.
After dinner, which indeed turned out to be exquisite (the old veteran warrior definitely knew his way around cooking, every dish was a masterpiece), to change the emotional tone a bit, I suggested Lute try out my new invention – that very blaster prototype I had finished during the day. We teleported back to the familiar training ground.
I showed her the blaster – a futuristic-looking pistol made of white metal, fitting nicely in her hand – and handed it to Lute. I explained the principle of operation: how to insert the battery-accumulator, how the two-stage firing mechanism worked. She took the weapon, her fingers familiarly and confidently gripping the handle. It was clear she quickly mastered any type of weaponry, though perhaps she just had experience; I wouldn't know.
She inserted the charged accumulator I gave her, aimed at a dummy at the far end of the training ground, and pulled the trigger. A short, dazzling flash – and a powerful beam of pure Light hit the dummy's "head" precisely, leaving a neat hole with molten edges. Lute whistled in surprise, and then her familiar predatory smile appeared on her face.
For the next half hour, she shot dummies one after another with obvious excitement and pleasure, testing the weapon for accuracy, rate of fire, and power. That same fighting fire I had seen during our spars reappeared in her eyes. She moved quickly, shot accurately, her face expressing complete concentration and… yes, clear enjoyment of the process. It seemed that for her, the context of the battle or the opponent didn't really matter – whether it was a sinner in Hell or a soulless dummy on the training ground – the main thing was the opportunity to apply her combat skills, to feel the power of the weapon in her hands, to experience the thrill of battle. Perhaps this was already part of her nature, forged by millennia of service as an exorcist.
Later, when it had grown completely dark and the training ground was plunged into cool twilight, and myriads of cold, distant stars lit up in the sky of Heaven, we just sat on the edge of the platform, dangling our legs. The silence was cozy.
"Hey, Lute," I broke the silence, "I mastered a cool trick today. Want to see?"
She turned her head, her golden eyes glinting curiously in the semi-darkness.
"A trick? From you? Well, go on, trickster, I'm all anticipation," she winked.
I smirked and, concentrating, opened a portal right in front of us. But not an ordinary one, the one that led to my pocket dimension of space.
"After you," I nodded to her.
She stepped into the rift in space with slight doubt but unconcealed curiosity. I followed her, and the portal closed softly behind us.
Around us stretched an endless velvet darkness, strewn with an incredible number of bright, multicolored stars – blue, red, yellow, green. Somewhere in the distance hung spiral galaxies and drifting nebulae, shimmering with all shades of purple, pink, and blue. The sight was mesmerizing, even for me.
Lute gasped, her eyes wide open in mute admiration. She slowly turned on the spot, as if trying to encompass all this impossible beauty with her gaze.
I created a guitar and a comfortable armchair out of Light. Settling into it, I took the guitar more comfortably and began to play softly. That same melody that had been persistently spinning in my head after that damn dream – sad, a little heart-wrenching, but at the same time beautiful, full of some bright, poignant sorrow. My fingers found the right strings themselves, remembering forgotten chords – either Adam's or Tatsumi's. Well, why not? It's not just for all sorts of demonic assholes like Stolas or Lucifer to create music for pretty girls in their personal dimensions, right?
I played, looking at Lute, and pouring all my mixed, tangled feelings into the music – the pain and despair of the past from the dream, the hazy hope for the future, the burgeoning tenderness for this strong, yet so vulnerable girl beside me. The music flowed freely, filling the silence of my little cosmos.
When the last notes faded, I looked up. Tears were streaming down Lute's cheeks. She wasn't crying her eyes out, not sobbing – just quietly crying, looking at me, then at the stars surrounding us, her face both spiritual and sad at the same time.
"That… that was very beautiful, Adam," she whispered, barely audible, her voice trembling. "Thank you… for sharing that."
Did she like it that much? Or did this music, born from the pain of my dream, touch some of her own soul strings, stir her memories? I didn't ask, feeling that words would be superfluous now. I just flew over to her, gently put my arms around her shoulders, and held her close. We hung there like that for a long time, embracing, in complete silence, under the myriads of stars in my personal, man-made cosmos. In that moment, we truly understood each other without words.