The next morning passed in routine: drills, sparring, lunch with the squad. But his mind was elsewhere. After afternoon training, he headed straight to the familiar table. More knowledge awaited. He grabbed the next scroll hungrily and unrolled it. The heading read:

  When Rendil finished reading, Metatron’s eyes were once again watching him. His timing was always perfect.

  This time, Metatron began with a different question. “True wisdom isn't measured by how many scrolls you've read, but by the questions you ask afterward. Tell me, what question remained in your mind after today’s study?”

  He swallowed. “The reading was darker than yesterday's.” He glanced back at the scroll. “Were there really hundreds of fallen angels?”

  Metatron answered with a grave look. “Yes, there were many, but most names have fallen into oblivion or taken on new forms. Many were lost in Hell forever. If the forces of Hell acted in unity, the conflict would be much more complicated and the outcome less predictable.”

  Rendil pressed on. “Are the forces of Heaven weaker?”

  He shook his head decisively. “No, but under current conditions, they are significantly weakened.”

  “Who are the legions? I’ve read and heard about them, but I still don’t quite understand.”

  Metatron pondered for a moment before answering. “Legions represent a collective entity: a superorganism, like a beehive, but twisted. They possess many bodies, with individual aspects of this entity trying to take control of specific vessels. There are hundreds of variations, the most well-known of which you’ll find in the relevant records. They differ in armament and armor. The most powerful body is controlled by Alocer. As you know, you’ve already encountered one of his manifestations.”

  Rendil silently accepted this information; the memory of that encounter still echoed within him.

  The one that cut me in half. His master must be something else.

  “If you encounter Alocer's strongest manifestation, you'll know immediately: it's not just the physical size, but the intensity of evil he radiates. But even Alocer serves a higher master: Aamon. He's the true strategist behind the legions, and one of the most dangerous lords we face. Unlike many other lords, he isn't ruled by impulse. He schemes. It’s said that he walks the Levels of Hell like a man in a dark robe, moving like a shadow between the lords, spreading his influence, keeping Hell in balance, and trying to draw their territories under his power with his legions. Several recent alliances are the result of his intrigues.”

  “How do you know this?” Rendil asked.

  A slight smile played on his lips. “As the Archangel of knowledge, I have a certain ability to see and foresee.”

  Rendil pressed on. “So there are nine levels: like the Gates?”

  “Exactly. The Levels of Hell are a twisted reflection of our reality. While our Gates represent the beauty and harmony of the world, their layers embody the cardinal sins each lord personifies.”

  “How do they move between them?” he asked.

  Metatron shrugged. “That remains unclear even to me. No angel who has entered has ever returned. We can only speculate whether their structure mirrors our city, with a central temple of Lucifer and eight branches, or whether they are vertical layers. If you ever gain this knowledge, I would be grateful if you added it to my Library.”

  He thought for a moment. “I wanted to ask about something I read while I was alive. Was Lilith Adam’s first wife?”

  He shook his head gently. “No, she never was. The forces of Hell have no way to enter the world of the living in bodily form. They can, however, penetrate by other means: if something passes through one of the Gates, it can enter the world. In rare cases, they move along their own dark paths, but always only as spiritual entities.” He leaned back and continued.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “They often whisper their ideologies to weak or corrupt people, try to possess bodies, rewrite sacred texts, or distort the truth. There are many documented cases of possession, in which Michael himself had to intervene. That’s why there are many angels scattered throughout the world of the living, who protect it and watch to ensure that the forces of darkness do not disrupt the Father’s order. Representatives of the churches can summon us through prayers.”

  He took a short pause then spoke again. “I believe Lilith is actually the daughter of one of the Lords, and her mother is Abaddon. The identity of her father remains unclear.”

  “I’d like to know more about individual enemies, like hellhounds or askaras,” Rendil said.

  Metatron smiled, “That’s enough for today. It’s time to return to training. I’ll be waiting for you here.” He rose from his seat, his robes gently brushing the wooden bench as he turned away from the table.

  He was right: Rendil had completely forgotten he needed to get back. He quickly got up and ran to train.

  In the evening, this time he sat with the second squad. He liked to change company; it always brought him new experiences and allowed him to get to know others better, just as he used to do as a manager. Everyone sat at the table, talking, playing board games, and enjoying cold beer. Around them, musicians played in calm harmony. Light pulsated in the middle of the hall, and candles burned around the edges, illuminating the entire space.

  “So, Lieutenant, what are you studying in the Library?” Werner inquired.

  “It’s really fascinating: the whole history of this world, the origin of the archangels, the fallen angels... You should visit,” Rendil replied.

  Artur joined in, “For me, the most interesting were those spheres. It was great when they still worked. You could sync your Lumion and watch what was happening in the world of the living. But now? At least we have these games: otherwise, besides training, it would be a very boring job,” he noted, munching fries on one of the benches with his feet up.

  “Reading isn’t really for me either,” Yassin declared.

  Yoshiro jumped in, “You wouldn’t know much if it weren’t for me and Hans. We used to go there, read, and then report everything back to you.”

  Carlos quietly munched his own food and just nodded with his mouth full.

  Rendil smiled, “I’m not forcing anyone to go. It’s your time. But I’ll stop by again tomorrow; I want to find details about the enemies: what else is out there and what might surprise us!”

  “Go, go, we can always use a squad nerd!” Werner encouraged him, making everyone smile; he always had sharp remarks.

  Rendil laughed, “Yes, someone has to fill that role. Don’t worry, soon it’ll be mandatory!”

  “Oh come on, boss, he’s just joking,” Altan said, trying to reassure him.

  “Don’t worry, I’m just joking too... maybe,” Rendil added with a smile. “It’s been an honor, but it’s late and tomorrow’s another day. Have a good evening, everyone: good night!”

  Rendil stood up and went to his residence. On his way he watched the skies full of stars, not thinking about anything, just walking with an empty mind, enjoying quiet of the city.

  In the morning, he sat for a moment on the terrace. He felt at ease in the city; a gentle breeze brushed his cheeks, and the fresh air revived him. It was peaceful and quiet. Memories of the anxiety he’d felt at home with his children were slowly fading, but he still missed them and thought of them often. They were his greatest inspiration: something he would never forget. He mustn’t forget. With a somber look, he pulled himself together, poured his morning drink, and listened for a while to the angelic chorus.

  After training, he headed back to the Library. Another scroll waited on the table. He unrolled it carefully. The familiar scent of parchment and ink rose to meet him as he settled in. The title read:

  As he finished reading, he leaned back. Sure enough, curious eyes were watching him again.

  “Well, did you learn anything?”

  With both hands he pushed himself away and leaned back. “I know most of them from experience, and they match their descriptions. Some, especially fiends, we need to watch out for; they can change form and infiltrate our ranks. It sounds like something out of a sci?fi movie: a really devious opponent ...”

  Metatron regarded him intently.

  “It would've been better to have this information when I first arrived,” Rendil added, “but better late than never, right?”

  Metatron smiled, “It’s been an honor to have these conversations with you, and I look forward to our next meeting.”

  Rendil spread his hands, palms open at his sides. “Wait, are you leaving somewhere?”

  “Not me, I’ll always be here,” Metatron replied and he continued across the bridge back to his post.

  Rendil studied the scroll thoroughly and returned to the barracks. He'd barely sat down when he heard the flapping of wings. It was their Captain. From the center of the room, the captain announced: “Prepare everyone for departure; we’re needed beyond the Second Gate! We leave tomorrow morning!”

  Elion jumped for joy, but this time Rendil just pressed his forehead to the table, feeling the cool, hard wood against his skin.

  Now? Couldn’t we have stayed a bit longer? At least a few more days?