Chapter 44 – Sanctum of Harmonics
Above the clouds, beyond mortal breath and time, the Upper Realm trembled.
The tremor wasn't physical. It wasn't a quake of stone or a crack of thunder.
It was deeper than that.
A ripple that moved through the divine latticework of Heaven's Light Realm—the place that floated between song and silence, built not from stone, but from will and resonance. Towers of gleaming crystal hummed with layered choirs. Bridges spanned vast chasms of sky-colored light. The wind whispered in runic patterns. Everything gleamed, everything echoed. It was perfect.
Until it shook.
Not violently. Not even visibly.
But every angel felt it.
In their wings. In their hearts. In their grace.
In the Sanctum of Harmonics, the innermost chamber of divine oversight, a melody wavered.
Just once.
Just a single sour note.
And everyone froze.
"Was that—" one of the Scribes said, looking up from a floating tome that sang when turned.
"Affirmative," murmured another. "Interference. Origin… mortal plane."
A second pause.
Then came the announcement.
[ALERT: ARTIFACT #017 – Seraph's Limitbreaker Core – CONSUMED.]
[Location: Earth Sector – Mortal Realm #C-342.]
[Subject: Vaelthorn, Lux. Status: ACTIVE.]
[Effect: Level Cap Removed. Power Growth: UNLIMITED.]
[No violation of Divine Accord detected.]
The Sanctum fell silent.
Utterly silent.
Then—
"…He actually used it?"
The voice belonged to Goddess Celestaria, High Custodian of Progression Paths, Architect of Order, and widely considered the divine equivalent of a very beautiful spreadsheet in human form.
Her robes of woven starlight shifted as she stepped forward, golden eyes narrowing at the floating display that pulsed with divine code.
"I never thought he would," she said softly. "I didn't even think he knew how."
The angels behind her murmured.
"Vaelthorn…"
"The Greedborn?"
"From Infernal Finance?"
"I thought he was a shut-in."
"He is."
"Wait, he's in the mortal realm?"
Celestaria's wings twitched.
Her assistant, Seraph Fenniel, hovered nearby, golden scroll in hand.
"He hasn't left Hell in… well, centuries. He left only for his appointments and meetings with us."
"He never even requested leave," Celestaria muttered. "Why now?"
Fenniel flipped the scroll open. "Records show he's handled every economic cycle of Hell flawlessly for the last 174 years. No vacations. No celestial hearings. Just… work."
Another ripple moved through the room. Faint, but distinct.
The artifact's consumption wasn't a sin. It wasn't a violation. It was technically allowed under Clause 7-Delta of the Interplanar Magical Resource Act.
But the implications…
Limitbreaker artifacts were meant to be theoretical failsafes.
A gesture of divine generosity.
No one used them.
Because no one could.
Except apparently, a demon with anxiety, too much caffeine in his bloodstream, and abandonment issues.
Celestaria turned slowly, her heels silent on the glowing floor. She approached the central mirror—a round disk of frozen sky—and gestured.
[Show me the moment of activation.]
The mirror rippled.
There he was.
Lux. Standing on a balcony. Messy shirt, coffee in hand, hair tousled.
Casual. Underwhelming. Sinfully pretty.
Then—
The flash.
The artifact.
The smile.
"Now… we raise the devil."
She winced. "Why do they always say something dramatic?"
Fenniel cleared his throat. "Would you rather he said nothing?"
"I'd rather he didn't absorb a divine core in board shorts," Celestaria snapped.
Behind her, one of the younger angels leaned toward another and whispered, "He's… kinda hot though?"
Celestaria turned her head sharply. The younger angel snapped upright like she hadn't just been thinking about Lux's jawline.
Then—another ping.
A new message scrolled across the central display.
[NEW ALERT: Security Breach – Angelic Tier 3 Containment Zone.]
[Status: Compromised.]
[Subjects: Rebel Faction – Seraphim-Class Defectors. Three Entities Unaccounted For.]
[Estimated Trajectory: Earth Sector – Mortal Realm #C-342.]
Everyone in the chamber froze.
This time, even the wind through the hall seemed to stop.
Celestaria's fingers curled slowly. "No. Don't tell me they're heading to the same—"
"They are," Fenniel said grimly, eyes scanning the projection. "And they escaped exactly eight minutes after Lux's artifact surge."
"Coincidence?"
"Possibly. But not likely."
A third voice chimed in—deep, patient, and slightly sarcastic.
Archon Vizreel, Guardian of Balance. A towering angel in dark silver armor, wings marked by thousands of recorded judgments.
He appeared from a corridor of mirrored light, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
"You're all acting like Lux committed a crime," he said. "He didn't. He signed the treaty. He followed the clauses. He didn't weaponize the artifact against celestial systems. So, what are we panicking for?"
Celestaria gave him a sharp look. "You've read his profile."
"Of course I have. I'm not blind."
"He's Greed, Vizreel."
"And he's contractually bound not to act on it."
"Greed doesn't obey contracts," she snapped.
Vizreel smirked faintly. "Lux does."
The room paused.
Celestaria stared at him. "You're defending him?"
"I'm saying…" Vizreel stepped closer, arms folded behind his back. "If Lux Vaelthorn wanted to break the world, he wouldn't do it by accident. He'd send you a formal letter. With bullet points."
Fenniel nodded. "He does love bullet points."
"And subclauses," another angel added.
Celestaria exhaled, clearly annoyed.
"But the escaped rebels?" Vizreel continued. "That's not on him. That's on us. They moved because they felt a power spike. Same way moths go to fire. Lux didn't summon them. He just lit up a beacon."
Celestaria closed her eyes. "Then we need to prepare Earth for angelic interference."
Vizreel smirked. "You know who else is on Earth?"
Everyone looked at him.
"Lux."
The room stilled again.
He let the silence hang.
Then added "If the rebels target him, it'll be a problem for them."
Fenniel scratched his head. "Should we… warn him?"
"No," Vizreel said, turning. "Let's see what he does."
Celestaria hesitated. "And if he makes a move?"
Vizreel's expression sharpened.
"Then we prepare for round two of the Accord. And next time…"
He glanced at the screen.
Lux was now walking through the city like nothing happened. Smiling. Coffee in hand. Mortal clothing slightly wrinkled.
"…We give him a bigger desk."
The angels stared.
Then the lights dimmed slightly. The warning tone faded.
And somewhere far below—
Lux sneezed.
Then muttered, "Huh. Someone talkin' about me?"
And kept walking.