Chapter 3: The Execution Platform Falls

Some angels present secretly regret not stepping forward earlier to say a few kind words, missing their chance to curry favor with the Saint of the Silver Lake—basically the heavenly version of a Supreme Court justice—who had claimed Lily as family. That made her untouchable. Or so she thought.

They glance at each other, already calculating how to spin this moment to their advantage. Office politics, celestial style—no one wants to be on the wrong side of the Saint.

Caleb curls his lip. "At this point, I can’t hide it anymore. I am the illegitimate son of the Dragon Lord in the human world. If anything happens to me, my father will never let it go."

He tries for bravado, puffing up his chest like a kid boasting about his dad’s job at the city council. He wants everyone to know he’s not just some nobody.

When angels descend to the human world for a trial, their bodies are human, so their offspring are human too.

It’s a weird technicality—on paper, he’s human, but in practice, he’s got connections most can only dream about. The kind of legacy admissions the Ivy League would envy.

Caleb and Lily still count as an angel-human couple.

The label sticks, no matter how they spin it. They want to have their cake and eat it too.

This background was never explained in the show. The Dragon Lord really kept it well hidden.

Classic plot twist—always a secret lineage ready to come out at the most dramatic moment. I can practically hear the viewers at home gasping.

Instinctively, I withdraw my pressure.

The atmosphere lightens, just a fraction. Enough for them to catch their breath, but not enough to let them off the hook.

Lily and Caleb exchange glances, both wearing victorious smiles.

They think they’ve won—already planning their next move, their next headline.

They’re certain I wouldn’t dare kill them.

Their confidence is so complete, it’s almost impressive. They believe the rules don’t apply to them.

I sigh helplessly. "Fine. Since you insist on being together and have such backgrounds, I can only let it be."

I let my shoulders drop, putting on the air of a tired principal dealing with the school’s star troublemakers. For a second, I almost pity them.

Lily and Caleb help each other to their feet.

They rise slowly, milking the moment for all it’s worth. Lily leans into Caleb, eyes shining with triumph.

They probably think I’ve agreed to let them be together.

The crowd shifts, already whispering rumors. Another win for love, another loss for authority.

Some angels hurry over to curry favor.

They swarm the couple, all smiles and hollow words. It’s like watching the popular kids bask in the glow of a viral TikTok challenge.

Lily responds to each with a polite nod.

She’s basking in the attention, gracious in victory. If this were a high school hallway, she’d be queen bee for the day.

At this moment, I grasp the air in the void.

I raise my hand, fingers curling around nothing—and the room goes dead silent, a hush that feels like the eye of a storm.

Boom!

The sound splits the air like a thunderclap, shaking the very walls. Gasps ripple through the crowd.

Ten thousand bolts of lightning crash down, and an Execution Platform materializes. It slammed down like a judge’s gavel in a packed courthouse, the kind that makes everyone sit up straight. The air tasted like metal, and the hairs on my arms stood up as lightning danced along the platform’s edge.

The platform rises out of nowhere, massive and forbidding, its edges crackling with energy.

Everyone is shocked.

Mouths hang open, eyes wide. No one expected this—not now, not ever.

The platform emits a fierce, ominous light, countless heavenly rules engraved upon it, the principles of heaven and earth weaving into chains—just a glance is enough to make your soul tremble.

It’s awe-inspiring and terrifying, like seeing Old Glory flying over a courthouse just before a life-or-death verdict. The message is clear: no one is above the law.

"The Execution Platform!"

A collective shudder runs through the hall. Whispers break out—no one wants to be the next one called up.

All the angels and gods are stunned.

They exchange uneasy glances, old rivalries forgotten in the face of this new threat. Even the cockiest fall silent.

This is the device used to slay demons—body and soul, both annihilated.

No appeal, no second chances. It’s the final word.

An angel official asks, "Mr. Commander, why summon the Execution Platform? As far as I know, there are no demons to be executed today."

He steps forward, voice shaky. The question hangs in the air, charged with dread.

I look at Caleb and Lily. "Will you go up yourselves, or shall I send you up?"

My tone is flat, the kind you use when you’re done negotiating. The choice is theirs, but the outcome isn’t changing.

Caleb forces a laugh. "This isn’t a joke you can make."

His bravado falters, voice wobbling. The crowd shifts, watching to see if he’ll break.

Lily puts her hands on her hips and snaps, "It would have made sense if you wanted to kill me earlier. But now I’m the Saint’s adopted daughter. Do you really dare kill me?"

She’s pushing her luck, voice shrill. If she were in a courtroom, she’d be daring the judge to throw the book at her.

I think to myself, she must think she’s being cute.

It’s almost funny—the way she tries to bluff her way through. She doesn’t realize how little patience I have left.

Mistaking ignorance for innocence, mistaking outrageous words for honesty.

She’s confused the two, thinking audacity is a virtue. I’ve seen it a thousand times, from boardrooms to barrooms.

A woman who’s lived for hundreds or thousands of years, yet less mature than a seven- or eight-year-old child.

Immortality’s not the same as wisdom. You’d think she’d have learned by now.

I point at the barrette in her hair. "Do you know what this is?"

I focus on the clip, its cheap sparkle catching the light. There’s a lesson here, if she’s willing to listen.

Lily is stunned, not understanding why I’m suddenly asking, and shakes her head. "How would I know what this is?"

Her confusion is genuine, a flicker of uncertainty finally breaking through the bravado.

I let out a cold chuckle, my face full of mockery.

The sound is sharp, echoing off the marble. I want her to feel the weight of her ignorance.

It’s one thing for modern people not to recognize it, but for a pixie herself not to know? That’s just too much.

She’s lost touch with her roots—forgotten the basics in pursuit of empty trends.

This thing is called a barrette—a hair clip that helps keep your hair neat. When you walk, your movement should be graceful, not excessive. Otherwise, it’s just messy.

Once upon a time, that little clip meant something. It was a symbol of poise, of restraint. Now it’s just another accessory, worn without meaning.

In the past, even the most arrogant socialites maintained basic manners. You could call them wicked, but never undignified or sloppy.

They had standards, even when breaking the rules. Now? Nobody cares.

But now, these so-called socialites bounce and skip as they walk, their barrettes almost flying off, and still think they’re cute.

It’s all about the spectacle—the louder, the better. They’ve forgotten that dignity can be just as captivating.

Caleb says in a deep voice, "My father is the Dragon Lord."

He’s trying to bring the conversation back to power—hoping titles will save him. Oldest trick in the book.

"Knowing the rules and breaking them—the crime is doubled."

I let the words hang, heavy as a gavel striking wood. He knows what’s coming.

"Take them up and execute them."

I wave my hand.

A simple gesture, but it sets everything in motion. The guards surge forward, their armor glinting beneath the harsh lights.

Heavenly guards step forward, dragging Lily and Caleb up to the Execution Platform.

They’re lifted bodily, no longer so smug. Their friends shrink back, unwilling to intervene.

There’s no fear on their faces.

Their masks stay on, defiant to the end. They’re sure I’m bluffing.

They don’t believe I would actually kill them.

Why would I? Nobody’s ever followed through before. They think this is just another act in the endless play.

Too many have descended to the human world out of longing. You can’t kill them all.

There’s a precedent, a loophole. They’re banking on it.

Besides, one is the Saint’s adopted daughter, the other the illegitimate son of the Dragon Lord—both think they’re untouchable.

Power has always bought immunity. But not today.

But they don’t know.

They haven’t seen the look in my eyes—the resolve that comes from a thousand hours of watching this play out. Not again.

I’ve suffered through enough fantasy romance shows. This ends now.

No more loopholes. No more plot armor.

Destroy the fantasy romance genre, restore the hero tradition, and let intelligence take its rightful place.

It’s time for a new script. One where brains matter more than blind passion.

A person’s life can have love, but it can’t be all about love. Love is just a garnish.

Let’s get real: you need more than romance to live a meaningful life. That’s what everyone seems to have forgotten.

Those angels who claim to descend for trials—in plain terms, they’re just going down to chase after women or men.

It’s not about spiritual growth—it’s just an excuse to party, to break rules under the guise of higher purpose.

Angels live so long, and in just a few years, the world is full of second-generation angels. They’re born with advantages that leave those who’ve worked for centuries far behind.

It’s the same everywhere—legacy kids leapfrogging the hard workers, the system rigged from the start. Frustration boils beneath the surface.

Humans will gradually lose their place to survive.

And that’s the real tragedy. When the old order falls, the little guy always pays the price.

"Execute!"

I spit out the word coldly.

No hesitation. The room chills. The guards move as one, the weight of my command undeniable.

In an instant, the winds and clouds change.

A roar like a freight train sweeps through the hall. Papers flutter, candles flicker. It’s the storm before the end.

The Execution Platform roars.

It vibrates with power, the sound shaking the floor beneath our feet. Everyone takes a step back.

The great rules of the universe dance wildly.

Symbols swirl through the air, golden and blinding. Time seems to slow, every breath amplified.

The heavenly rules engraved on it all blaze with golden light, making everyone tremble.

It’s like staring at the sun—too much to take in, overwhelming and absolute.

This execution platform is extraordinary.

There’s an aura about it, ancient and final. Even the bravest avert their eyes.

Some angels with weak power just glance at the blade and blood and tears flow from their eyes.

The weight of justice is too much for them. The old guard remembers—this isn’t just theater.

Lily immediately tries to call for help—but to her horror, the Execution Platform isolates all magic. She’s now no different from a human.

She flails, reaching for any kind of power, but nothing happens. The realization hits her like a punch to the gut.

Lily’s face is filled with unwillingness, and she shouts at me, "Mr. Commander, it’s not uncommon for angels and demons to couple. Can you kill them all?"

Her voice cracks, desperation bleeding through. She’s appealing to the crowd now, hoping for a last-minute rescue.

Caleb echoes, "That’s right! If you have the guts, kill them all. Otherwise, let us go."

He’s trying to rally the room, but no one moves. The silence is deafening.

I look at the two of them like they’re idiots, and reply indifferently, "Don’t worry, they’ll be coming down to join you soon. Oh, wait—I misspoke. You’ll be completely annihilated, so there’s no chance to go down."

My voice is icy, all pretense stripped away. The finality of it sinks in for everyone present.

As soon as I finish speaking, the blade falls.

The blade dropped with a sound like a thunderclap. For a split second, time froze—then two bodies hit the floor, and nobody breathed.

The two are beheaded, their heads rolling onto the main hall.

The bodies slump to the ground, the air thick with the scent of ozone and something heavier—loss.

As for any last-minute pleas for mercy?

None come. The silence is absolute.

They don’t exist.

No one dares speak, not even the bravest. The rules have teeth again.

Lily’s body gradually dissipates, turning back into a cloud.

A gentle breeze scatters her form, leaving behind only a faint shimmer, like morning mist caught in sunlight.

My gaze sweeps over all the angels present.

I meet each pair of eyes, letting them feel the weight of my resolve. No one is exempt.

"If this kind of thing happens again, all will be executed without mercy."

My words hit like a gavel—final, unwavering. No more loopholes, no more soft hearts.

"I simply don’t believe this trend of longing for the human world can’t be stopped."

It’s time to restore balance. The age of rule-breaking for romance is over.

Everyone’s life goes through a few stages:

There’s a progression to every story—rebellion, understanding, acceptance. The cycle repeats, but each time, the stakes get higher.

First, you question the Queen of Heaven; then you understand the Queen of Heaven; finally, you become the Queen of Heaven.

It’s the way of things, the journey from outsider to authority. And now, whether I like it or not, I’m the one who sets the rules. I caught my reflection in the polished floor—same old me, just wearing a cosmic suit I never asked for. Was I really supposed to run this place?

I stared down at the silent crowd, feeling the weight of a thousand eyes. Tomorrow, the heavens would be different—and I’d be the one rewriting the rules.