Surrounding them was a realm of golden splendor and celestial paradox, where beauty and strangeness intertwined. The sky was a perpetual dawn, bathed in a radiant, honeyed light that danced with hues of amber, saffron, and molten gold. Vast palatial structures floated weightlessly, suspended on shimmering rays that curved like the arcs of ancient suns. These structures were made of glistening, semi-translucent crystals, constantly shifting in shape as if alive, reflecting every nuance of light into prismatic rainbows that swirled like liquid fire.

The land itself was a surreal blend of elegance and oddity. Fields of luminescent sunflowers stretched infinitely, their petals made of spun glass that softly chimed like distant bells in the breeze. Rivers flowed with liquid sunlight, winding lazily through valleys where towering sun-trees grew, their branches brimming with radiant fruits that pulsed gently like miniature suns. Each fruit’s glow told whispered secrets in the language of light, their brilliance both mesmerizing and unnerving.

In the heart of the kingdom lay the Radiant Spire, a colossal castle of white-hot brilliance that reached into the heavens, seeming to pierce the very fabric of reality. The closer one drew to it, the more time itself seemed to ripple and bend, distorting perception. Within the spire, time moved like molten gold—slow and syrupy, yet vibrant with life—where eons passed in seconds, and moments stretched into eternities.

Yet, despite its staggering beauty, the Kingdom carried a strange unease. Shadows, subtle and ghostly, flickered in places they should not exist, whispering through sunlit corners. The golden hues, though warm and inviting, sometimes flickered with dark undertones, as if something ancient and foreboding lurked beneath the surface, waiting for the light to falter. It was a place where beauty teetered on the edge of madness, a realm so perfect that it felt as though it might fracture under the weight of its own brilliance.

Orion, even as an angel, felt his mind overwhelmed by the sheer majesty of Aurelion’s divine kingdom. Despite having visited in his astral form, this was his first experience in his physical body. The grandeur of the surroundings left him in awe, and he struggled to absorb the details of his lord's divine kingdom.

Swallowing hard, Orion refocused on his lord, though a lingering unease gripped him. The correction he had received and the transition to this celestial domain stirred a maelstrom of emotions within him.

He took a moment to steady himself, resolving not to falter or embarrass himself further.

Aurelion reached for a white teapot on a nearby table. 

"Do you prefer coffee or tea?" he inquired.

"Coffee!" Orion replied instinctively. Though divine beings transcended human needs, he did not dare refuse the offer from his lord. 

As Aurelion poured the coffee, Orion’s mind raced with thoughts. The shift in Aurelion's demeanor—a warmth and humanity previously absent—struck him profoundly.

"Has the Lord gained more humanity?" Orion mused silently.

Aurelion seemed to read his thoughts. "Yes, I have indeed embraced more of my humanity," he confirmed with a hint of amusement. "But let us not delve too deeply into this complex matter."

Handing Orion the cup, Aurelion shifted focus. "Proceed with the information."

Orion sipped his coffee and presented a file adorned with a photograph. The image depicted a man in his thirties, with blonde hair and dark brown eyes, dressed in a noble coat bearing a distinctive clock emblem.

"Naithan darkwings," the file labeled prominently.

Aurelion glanced briefly at the file before returning his gaze to Orion.

Orion began his report. "Naithan darkwings is a viscount in the Azazeil Empire, the sun of Duke zankeil darkwings. Recently, he had ascended to the status of demigod with affinity to fate. Currently, he is under the Duke's personal care..."

"Did he possess a peculiar broken cross?" Aurelion interjected.

Orion paused, searching his memory. "Naithan participated in a recent expedition led by the darkwings family into ancient ruins. Upon their return, he was seen to reach out to demigod level forger with broken cross. However, we cannot be certain of its significance."

The investigation into Naithan had been possible only through Aurelion’s divine blessing, given the intricate barriers of the devine domain of Azazeil empire.

Aurelion’s brow furrowed as he contemplated the implications. The cross in question was none other than the artifact of old sun god, a divine relic that only he and old sun knew about. While it seemed minor in the grand scheme, Aurelion knew its true value could be immense—potentially granting him an edge at upcoming war of gods.

Despite his divine status, Aurelion could not directly influence the Azazeil Empire due to its convoluted orders. Historically, gods can't exert there authority in other domain of divine, a situation only exacerbated by the untamed paranoia of Azazeil.

Aurelion's current method, though laborious, was necessary. His Earlier plan, or the plan of Aurelion before his transmigration was to insite a conflict between Azazeil the god of chaos and vaelora, godess of sky and storm, had failed due to intervention of godess of wisdom, Athena. Which had led to considerable collateral damage, underscored the limitations of direct divine intervention.

"Orion, your task is to retrieve that cross," Aurelion declared, his tone casual yet commanding.

Orion’s eyes widened with shock and concern. The task seemed perilous, infiltrating the domain of god and stael something from dukes family was bordering on a death mission.

"I’m not sending you on a suicide mission," Aurelion said, a smile of amusement touching his lips. "Times are changing, and you may find success amidst the coming chaos." His expression turned serious. "This is a pivotal moment, much like before the fall of the god of time."

Orion’s face grew solemn as he contemplated Aurelion’s words. The last time such a phrase was spoken, it heralded a monumental shift.

"Will the Azazeil Empire fall?" Orion wondered, reflecting on another challenging mission assigned to the angel of miracles.

Aurelion shifted topics. "What is the status of the border war? Are casualties increasing?" His tone remained light, but the question was tinged with concern.

"Yes, Milord," Orion began, his voice heavy with the weight of grim news. He paused briefly before continuing, as if gathering strength. "Our prolonged war with the Church of the Sky and the Church of shadow was balanced in a stalemate—until recently."

His voice lowered, laced with frustration. "But now, the saints of the Church of Shadows have shifted their tactics at the critical moment, pinning our forces at the border. Their sudden maneuver caught us off guard."

Orion hesitated, searching for the right words. "Their divination... it was successful, somehow. They managed to bypass our anti-divination wards. Our front lines crumbled, and as a result, the casualties were severe."

The weight of his next words hung heavy. "On the other side, our conflict with the Church of the Goddess of the Sky suffered as well. The setback from the Shadow God's forces rippled across the entire war effort."

Orion's face darkened as he continued. "As the situation spiraled out of control, I was forced to intervene directly—joining the battle to stabilize the frontlines and salvage what remained." His voice faltered slightly, betraying the desperation behind his stoic composure.

The war had spiraled into disaster. Though Orion’s intervention had successfully halted the enemy’s advance into the Kingdom of Valoria, it had only delayed the inevitable. Their forces remained fractured, incapable of reclaiming lost ground. Now, standing before Aurelion, Orion felt the weight of his failure press down heavily on his shoulders. As the commander leading the front, the blame belonged to him alone. 

Aurelion sat silently, one hand resting against his temple, his golden gaze distant and clouded with contemplation. For a moment, he neither chastised nor questioned Orion, his expression unreadable. Instead, a long sigh escaped him, burdened with weariness not just from war but from distractions that had consumed his attention elsewhere. 

"Castiel and Athena..." Aurelion muttered, his voice trailing off as the realization sank in. The sudden change in their enemy’s strategy made sense now. It had Athena’s hand all over it—subtle yet precise, the kind of maneuver only the Goddess of Wisdom could devise. Her involvement had gone unnoticed until it was too late, and now the consequences were unfolding on the battlefield. 

Frustration flickered in Aurelion’s eyes. “I should have seen this coming.” He leaned forward, massaging his temple as the enormity of the situation sank deeper into him. “I let my focus slip. There were too many distractions... too many moving pieces.”

The gods were stretched thin, and the demands of divine realms had drawn his attention away at critical moments. But in underestimating Athena’s influence, he had given Castiel the advantage—an advantage that was growing with every passing day. 

Orion shifted, preparing for the inevitable reprimand, but none came. Aurelion’s voice, when he spoke again, was tinged more with regret than anger. 

“If Athena has thrown her lot in with Castiel, things are worse than I feared. We’re running out of time.” 

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. Aurelion’s headache pulsed, but his mind was already working—turning over strategies, searching for the next move. Somehow, they would have to outmaneuver Athena and wrest control of the war back from Castiel’s grasp. Failure, this time, would not be an option.