The Hall of Virtues was quiet and serene, a stark contrast to the tension-filled Celestial Hall Samael, Plutus, and Levia had just left. The three of them entered, their wings drooping and their steps heavy. The other virtues immediately looked up, sensing something was wrong.

Azazil was the first to approach, his golden scales catching the soft light as he moved toward the group. His eyes were calm but concerned. "What happened?" he asked, his voice gentle yet firm.

Samael didn't answer. Without a word, he walked past Azazil and the others, his shoulders tense. He found a small corner of the hall and sank into a chair, his wings wrapping around himself like a protective shield. His silence was deafening.

Plutus sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his jester-like hat shifting slightly with the movement. "It didn't go well," he admitted, his voice unusually subdued. "I... I might've lost my cool."

Levia stepped in, her tone soft but tinged with sorrow. "It wasn't just Plutus. The seraphim... they're impossible to reason with. They've let their pride and sense of duty completely blind them."

Azazil's usually serene expression darkened, and Asmodel, standing nearby, folded his arms, his wings twitching in irritation. "So, they're just as bad as we thought," Asmodel muttered.

"They're worse," Plutus said, his tone bitter. "I tried to defend Levia when they started getting passive-aggressive, and... I snapped. I told them exactly what I thought about their arrogance, their treatment of Samael, and their entire approach to humanity."

Levia nodded, her emerald-green eyes glistening. "We thought maybe they'd listen, but they didn't. Sera... she..." Levia trailed off, glancing at Samael, who was still huddled in his corner. She lowered her voice. "She didn't defend him. Not once."

Veritas frowned, her golden glow dimming slightly. "So, Samael was right," she said quietly. "They never intended to take him seriously."

Triel's pink and orange wings fluttered as she approached Samael cautiously, her steps light and deliberate. She knelt beside him, her voice soft. "Samael? Hey, kiddo. Talk to me."

But Samael didn't respond. He stared ahead, his glowing blue eyes distant and unfocused. Triel placed a gentle hand on his arm, but when he still didn't react, she sighed. "Okay," she said softly. "I'll give you some space, but I'm here if you need me."

She stood and rejoined the others, her expression tight with anger and concern. "This isn't right," she said, her usually laid-back tone hardening. "He deserves better than this."

Azazil nodded solemnly. "He does. We all knew the seraphim were difficult, but if they've hurt him this much..." His voice trailed off as he glanced at Samael, his heart aching for the young archangel.

Asmodel's voice cut through the room, steady and sharp. "The seraphim have clearly made up their minds. They think they're above everyone else, including the virtues and Samael. Their arrogance will be their downfall."

Plutus clenched his fists, his usually cheerful face set in a grim line. "I've never felt so furious before," he admitted. "They're supposed to represent Heaven's ideals, but they're the furthest thing from it. They're not helping humanity—they're controlling it. And they're hurting everyone in the process."

Levia nodded, her voice trembling slightly. "I agree. I wanted to believe in them, but now... I can't. I don't know how we're supposed to work with them."

Veritas folded her hands, her golden eyes narrowing in thought. "Perhaps we're not meant to," she said. "If they refuse to listen, maybe it's time we focus on supporting Samael instead. He's the one who truly cares about this project's success."

Triel sighed, glancing back at Samael. "Yeah," she said softly. "He's the only one who really cares—for the right reasons. And they've broken him."

The virtues continued their discussion, their voices low and somber as they debated their next steps. But no matter how the conversation turned, their thoughts kept returning to Samael, sitting silently in the corner, his heart heavy with disappointment and hurt.

For now, they decided to let him have his peace, knowing he needed time to process everything that had happened. But deep down, each of them knew this wasn't the end of the conflict. The fractures within Heaven were growing, and it was only a matter of time before something—or someone—broke.

———————————————————————

Days passed in the Hall of Virtues, yet the tension that had taken root after Samael, Levia, and Plutus's return lingered like a storm cloud. The virtues continued their duties, but a shadow of discontent crept into their once-steadfast resolve. In quiet moments, their conversations circled back to the seraphim, to Sera, and to the mounting frustration they all felt.

In the grand atrium of the Hall, the virtues gathered, their voices low and sharp.

"They're supposed to uphold Heaven's ideals, just like us," Levia said, her normally soft tone carrying an edge. "And yet they act as if those principles don't apply to them—like they're above it all. It's infuriating." Her glowing, seafoam-green wings twitched in irritation, and her usual gentle aura seemed strained. "Why do they get to act like this and still be held in higher regard than us?"

Azazil sat nearby, his golden-white tail curled neatly around him. He was silent, but his serene expression was gone, replaced by a brooding intensity. His patience, once boundless, was wearing thin. He clenched his clawed hands, his voice low but vibrating with an undercurrent of wrath. "They've twisted what this project was meant to be. And they've twisted us. We're expected to uphold Heaven's values, but for what? To watch them trample over everything we stand for?"

Belfagel, leaning against a nearby pillar, let out a tired sigh. The golden flame atop her head flickered faintly, the symbol of her determination dimmed. "Why should we bother?" she said flatly, her arms crossed. "If the seraphim aren't worried about upholding the virtues of Heaven, why should we? It's exhausting—always striving, always sacrificing, only to be ignored. Maybe they have it right. Maybe it's not worth it."

The words hung in the air, heavier than any she had spoken before. A ripple of unease passed through the group, though no one contradicted her.

Plutus, usually the beacon of enthusiasm, sat quietly beside her, his vibrant green-and-yellow wings drooping. When he finally spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically bitter. "Charity only works when it's deserved," he muttered. "And what have the seraphim done to deserve anything from us? They treat us—and Samael—like dirt. Maybe... maybe I should stop being so giving. Maybe it's time I thought about myself for once. Being selfish doesn't sound so bad anymore."

Veritas, sitting across the room, stared down at her glowing hands, her sharp yellow eyes dim with frustration. "They have the audacity to call themselves servants of truth," she said coldly. "But their truth is twisted—a warped version of reality that only serves their ego. And us? We're expected to embody these ideals without falter, while they defile the very principles we're meant to protect." Her voice grew softer, almost to herself. "What's the point of truth if it's only ignored? If it's manipulated to suit arrogance and pride?"

Triel, her butterfly-like wings folding behind her, paced the room. "And what about balance?" she snapped. "Where's the balance in all this? They act like we're supposed to accept their authority, even when it's clear they've lost all sense of moderation. How are we supposed to maintain harmony when everything around us is chaos?" Her usually calm tone was sharper than usual, a sign of how deeply the hypocrisy had unsettled her.

Asmodel, standing by one of the tall windows, gazed out at the shimmering horizon of Heaven. His voice, when it came, was quiet but laced with frustration. "Sacred love, sacred purpose—these were supposed to be the foundation of our creation," he said, his radiant wings shifting slightly. "But now I see it's just a gilded cage. We're bound by these ideals, but the seraphim... they're free to act however they please, all because God chose them for this project. It's maddening."

Silence fell for a moment as the virtues exchanged glances, each of them grappling with the dissonance between their divine roles and the reality they faced. Levia finally broke the quiet, her voice trembling with emotion. "I envy them," she admitted, her glowing green eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I envy their freedom—their ability to act without consequence. And I hate that I feel this way, but I can't help it. It's not fair."

Azazil's tail twitched, his serene facade cracking further. "And I'm tired of being calm," he said bluntly. "I'm tired of being patient. They don't deserve it. None of them do. If anything, they deserve a taste of their own arrogance."

The virtues fell into uneasy silence again, the weight of their collective frustration palpable. They had never spoken this way before, and yet none of them could deny the truth in each other's words.

Finally, Veritas spoke, her voice steady but heavy with resignation. "This isn't just about the seraphim," she said. "It's about us. About what we're becoming. If this continues, if things don't change... I'm afraid of what we might turn into."

Triel stopped pacing and looked at Samael, who sat silently in the corner, his head bowed. "And what about him?" she asked softly. "He's the only one who hasn't given up—who still believes in this project, despite everything. But how long can he hold on? How long before they break him completely?"

No one had an answer. The virtues sat in uneasy silence, the weight of their doubts and frustrations hanging heavy in the air. For the first time, they began to wonder if their divine roles, their sacred virtues, were worth the cost of their own happiness and purpose. And though none of them said it aloud, each of them felt the same gnawing fear: that the cracks forming within them might one day shatter them completely.

Later, Samael sat alone in his room, the echoes of the virtues' voices from earlier still bouncing around in his mind. He remained silent, unable to shake the turmoil that clawed at his heart. The wounds from the recent events at the Celestial Hall and the lingering disappointment in Sera weighed heavily on him. A part of him longed for some semblance of normalcy, for a moment to escape the confusion and pain.

Then, like a soothing balm, the sweet, unmistakable scent of honey cakes wafted through the air. His head lifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as he sniffed the air. Honey cakes could only mean one thing.

His curiosity piqued, Samael quietly slipped out of his room and followed the tantalizing aroma to the kitchen. The glow of the room's warm light spilled into the hallway, and as he peeked around the corner, he spotted a plate of honey cakes sitting unattended on the counter. The kitchen was empty.

Perfect.

Grinning to himself, Samael tiptoed into the room, his fingers twitching in anticipation. Just as he reached for one of the golden cakes, he felt a pair of hands grab him and a playful voice rang out.

"Gotcha!"

Samael barely had time to react before he was tackled to the floor by Triel, who laughed as she pinned him down. "You didn't think I'd just leave those cakes out for anyone to take, did you?" she teased, her butterfly-like wings fluttering behind her.

Samael groaned, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "A trap? Seriously?"

"Of course!" Triel grinned, her laid-back tone dripping with mischief. "Honey cakes are sacred in this kitchen, Samael. You've gotta earn them."

The two began to playfully wrestle on the floor, their laughter echoing through the kitchen. For the first time in days, Samael felt a small flicker of light breaking through the darkness in his heart. Finally, Triel relented, sitting back and crossing her arms.

"Alright," she said, her cheerful tone softening. "I'll let you go—on one condition."

Samael raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

"You talk to me. No dodging, no brushing me off. Deal?"

He hesitated for a moment, but the sincerity in her eyes broke through his defenses. With a sigh, he nodded. "Fine."

Triel smiled triumphantly and helped him up, but as Samael reached for a honey cake, she swiftly pulled the plate away and replaced it with a bowl of steaming food. "Ah, ah. First, you eat this. Then you can have the honey cakes."

Samael groaned dramatically, but he couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. "You're relentless."

"Just looking out for you, kid," Triel said with a wink.

As Samael ate, Triel sat beside him, her usual calm energy radiating like a steady anchor. It wasn't long before Samael began to open up.

"It's... Sera," he finally said, his voice quiet. "I've basically cut her off. I've spent so long looking up to her, seeing her as someone who could guide me, someone who cared about me. She was like a mother to me. But now..." His voice cracked slightly, and he set his fork down. "Now I don't even know what she is to me anymore."

Triel listened intently, her expression soft and understanding. "You're hurt, Samael. And you have every right to be. Sera's treatment of you—it wasn't fair. But that doesn't mean you're alone."

Samael looked up at her, his eyes glistening. "I just wanted her to see me as more than a child. To take me seriously. But no matter what I do, it's never enough. It's like... like I'm not enough."

Triel reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Samael," she said softly, "you are more than enough. I've always believed in you, even when you didn't believe in yourself. I see how much you care, how much you want to do good. That's why I'm here. That's why we're all here. Because we care about you."

Samael's lips trembled, and he reached over to hug her tightly. Triel wrapped her arms around him, holding him as he let out a few quiet sobs.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Thank you for being there for me."

Triel smiled, her wings glowing faintly brighter. "Always, Samael. Always."

For a moment, the weight on Samael's heart felt a little lighter. As they pulled away, Triel handed him a honey cake with a grin. "Alright, now you've earned it."

Samael laughed softly and took a bite, the sweetness melting on his tongue. He glanced at Triel, his heart swelling with gratitude. For the first time in days, he felt a flicker of hope.