Until The End Of Time

Chapter 12.2. Luc

The building's exposed red brick wall absorbs most noises, but it can't help with the poor air quality and vibration, which happens every twenty minutes when a train passes.

The cornered office is located on the second floor, right next to an elevated railroad. It used to be the headmaster room of a boarding school and then a newsroom for the local paper. There have been several renovations throughout the years, but the last one completely changed how the building looks and functions.

All black-grid windows were expanded, allowing a good amount of light to pour in from early morning to late afternoon every day. Black and red velvet curtains drape down to the walnut floor, giving the space a touch of luxury. Many colorful modern artworks are put up to adorn the wall, but the most impressive piece is right in the center.

An extremely realistic life-sized oil painting is proudly hung above the black throne chair and matching ornate desk. It portrays a man in his prime who dressed in a fancy attire that belonged to a long-forgotten time: a Burgundy frock coat and a top hat completed with a cane. The smirk on his face is both arrogant and mysterious as if the man knows all the secrets of the world. His stormy blue eyes pierced through the canvas to startle whoever stood before the painting. The man is handsome—not in a conventional way, but, simply, no one can forget how he looks once they lay eyes on him.

At the moment, that said man is musing at his portrait while enjoying a cup of Irish coffee—heavy on the whiskey. Outside the windows, a single maple tree sways back and forth in the wind, shedding its many dead leaves on the dirty small yard below.

 Life has been interesting to Luc. He sits there, reminiscing about what happened in the past year. His plan first came to a halt, and then it was reactivated unexpectedly. He has plotted for what? Decades? Centuries? Luc can't remember. At least Fate seems to finally agree with him this time. Alastair helped him tremendously up until the moment the guy was forcefully taken out of the game. Luckily, though, it wasn't the end. Alastair continues proving himself useful by being the perfect scapegoat. The Garrisons have focused one hundred and one percent of their effort on the human in the past few months. Somehow, Alastair managed to get on Michael's last nerves, and after getting his whole operation destroyed, Alastair is still hunted.

He would've been in serious trouble without Luc's help. It is not in Luc's nature to be kind or merciful, nor is it easy to hide the number one target on the angels' wanted list right under Michael's nose, but Luc manages. He is not who he is for no reason. Alastair might seem like a liability now, but Luc believes the human still serves a purpose.

Everything started when Luc arrived in this city.

Ayham was a giant cesspool with a bunch of brand-new flawed, malleable creatures. It has been his favorite playground. A place to rest. A place to forget.

Father, with His huge ego, always wanted to be loved and worshiped. He found a way to make sure He got what He wanted, as much as He wanted. Humans prayed when they suffered without knowing, or caring, about the source of their suffering. This city was beaming with prayers.

It was almost too easy for Luc, but he knew it was by design. The seeds of lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy, and pride were masterfully planted in them from the beginning, accompanied by their limited mortal minds and bodies. Naturally, they never stood a chance. Who could fight the will of God?

Humans were destined to be herded, controlled, and, if needed, destroyed when the experience went wrong. Did that mean he felt bad for them?

Lucifer Morningstar, as they used to call him, has indulged on Earth since before the Great Library of Alexandria got its first books. There was nothing he did not try, no place he did not visit. An ocean of knowledge and wealth came along as an inevitable side effect. Connections. Power. They were only the means to survive. Luc disliked Earthly titles. King, president, chief... They were children's play-pretend labels. Why would he need any of those things when he was the most beautiful Heavenly prince and archangel that had ever been created? A fiery soul. Father's favorite. Grace or no grace, no one could ever deny that.