The Fallen's Guide - chapter 4

Tang Nian hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time.

Years of illness had tormented her even in her sleep, leaving her exhausted even after waking.

But now, she felt as if even her soul was at rest.

Something incredibly soft brushed lightly across her eyelids, like a Feather.

Someone was gently, tentatively touching her.

Like a cat encountering food it wants to try but doesn’t dare eat-sniffing, poking, then observing.

The feather-light touch made her feel a little ticklish; her eyelashes trembled, and a low, gentle chuckle sounded by her ear.

The owner of the Feather was tireless. Soon, the soft sensation faded, replaced by cold fingers that gently slipped into her hair, stroking along her scalp, then sliding down to her slender neck.

A human neck is so delicate, it seems it could snap with a gentle twist.

Fingers stroked back and forth with a strange sense of coercion.

They quietly encircled her neck bones.

Tang Nian felt as if she were dreaming a bizarre, surreal dream. When she opened her eyes, she vaguely realized she had left the disinfectant-scented real world and entered the fantastical, eerie game.

The Temple was as dark as ever, but that didn’t stop her from gazing into a pair of eyes as dazzling as the Milky Way.

“You’re awake.”

The Angel leaned down, closing the distance between them, their breaths mingling.

“Andrea.”

Tang Nian was lying on the Angel’s lap, two broad, snow-white Wings gently enveloping her, as if she had sunk into clouds.

It took her a few seconds to react-Andrea was her character in the game.

A devout human Believer.

Breaths intertwined, the Angel blinked his hollow, beautiful eyes and said, almost enchantingly, “You’re ill. I can heal you.”

His fingertips lowered, lightly touching Tang Nian’s collarbone.

So cold.

“All you need to do is tell me where you came from, and how you entered this Temple.”

This time, he spoke clearly.

They were so close, Tang Nian’s nose nearly touched his.

Those lifeless, translucent silver eyes gazed hollowly at her face, filled with gentleness and an unfathomable depth, as if peering through the game into her soul. The strangeness of it was like a computer freezing from a virus, making Tang Nian uneasy.

What kind of question was this?

Was her character in the game also ill? How could she not know? Why was there no hint in the Mission bar?

“I came from the Church. I am your Believer, sent here by the Priest.”

Tang Nian answered calmly. This was what she had said the first time she met the Angel.

It was the character background set by the game.

The Angel was silent, seeming to accept this explanation.

After a moment, he asked softly, “Are you suffering?”

“Mm.”

Her palm was opened, and the Angel pressed his lips together, hesitantly and cautiously touching her, placing a soft object in her hand.

“This can heal you.”

It was a Feather.

Pure, soft, white-untouched by darkness, snowy and radiant with a sacred glow.

Tang Nian maintained the obedient facade of her game character, eyes closed, but in her heart she thought-

How kind, the messenger of God.

Just as the game’s profile described, he was so kind, noble, and holy, holding an undefended heart toward all things, completely unguarded with her.

He was God’s messenger from the Bible, awe-inspiring, gentle, and loving everyone equally.

But she was not a kind person.

She had no time left.

Tang Nian pretended to tuck the Feather-which could not be taken out of the game-into her pocket. “Mm, thank you.”
She put on a smile, reached out to caress the Angel’s cheek, and as he showed a faintly resistant discomfort, her fingers slid downward, gently brushing his sensitive wings.

This bold human was always so audacious.

The wounded Angel immediately bent down, his back arching uncomfortably.

“This is our seventh meeting.” She lifted her head, drawing closer to him.

The Angel frowned slightly, his hollow white eyes like the surface of a silent lake stirred by a gentle breeze.

Unfortunately, he could not see.

Tang Nian couldn’t help but marvel at the exquisite modeling of this game; the experience was so realistic, it felt as if she had truly stepped into a myth-far beyond what modern human civilization could achieve.

“Today is the seventh day.”

Seven days.

The gradually fallen Angel seemed unaware that there was anything unusual about this date.

The human’s breath, sprayed so close, made him tremble; the skin exposed beyond his collar flushed red, like clouds at sunset when the star-sun falls.

Seven, in the Hebrew Mythology system, is a unique number.

In Genesis, God created the world in seven days.

On the first day, God separated light from darkness, creating day and night.

On the second day, God made the air, and thus the sky.

On the third day, God created dry land as continents, gathered the waters into seas, and brought forth seeds, fragrant grass, fruits, and vegetation.

On the fourth day, God created the stars and scattered them across the night sky.

On the fifth day, God made birds and fish, rivers, lakes, plains, and valleys.

On the sixth day, He created living beings, made humans in His own image, and made them the managers and rulers of the world.

On the Seventh Day, all things in heaven and earth were complete, and God finished creation.

On this day, God rested.

After today, Tang Nian would rest as well.

This was the last day.

The Sanctuary gradually lit up.

Colored glass shimmered with enchanting light, reflecting Tang Nian’s form.

But this was not her own appearance-it was another person’s body. She didn’t know whose it was; ever since entering the game, she had used this body to complete her Mission.

If nothing unexpected happened, after she exited the game, the new owner of this body would take over her role and finish the remaining story.

All Tang Nian needed to do now was to drag this pitiful Six-Winged Angel down from the Altar and stain him with darkness.

‘Andrea’-this nonexistent human girl-would become the reason for his fall.

“There’s one last Steel Nails in you. Let me help you gain your freedom.”

Beneath the Angel’s elegant collarbone, cold Steel Nails pierced through, exposing a festering, crimson wound.

The Chains clattered with his movements. Tang Nian reached out both hands, gently touching the cold Steel Nails, carefully twisting them.

It must hurt terribly.

The Angel gasped, kneeling, and with trembling hands, embraced her.

For him, this counted as a hug.

“It will hurt a little,” Tang Nian softly warned, “Please bear with it.”

Her slender fingers twisted the Steel Nails that pierced his chest cavity.

He lowered his head, burying his face in her neck and shoulder.

His tall, graceful body trembled incessantly, his complexion growing even paler, like snowflakes about to melt.

Clearly, he was the one enduring pain, yet the human woman’s eyes reddened.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

The Angel’s nose pressed against the warmth of the human woman’s skin, feeling the blood flowing beneath her pale flesh. That fragile neck was even more delicate than the softest Feather on his body.

It hurt.

To remove God’s punishment-how could it not hurt?

“I am God’s creation. If I make a mistake, I must be punished.”

He was answering Tang Nian’s question.