1. The Sky Opens Like an Accident Report
Ne Job had just finished convincing himself the Vein of Forbidden Procedure No.4.5 was calming down—
—when the sky split like a paper shredder that swallowed the wrong form.
A hole yawned open above the Bureau courtyard, lined with swirling bureaucratic sigils. They spun, glowed, and rearranged as though a divine intern was still trying to format them properly.
Assistant Yue shielded her eyes. "Oh no. That's Heavenly Audit glyphwork."
Ne Job blinked. "But the audit from Heaven was last month."
Yue's face went very, very pale.
"Correction: that was pre-audit orientation."
Lord Bureaucrat Xian calmly set down his porcelain teacup. It was the kind of calm that only existed in two places:
1. Enlightened monasteries
2. Executives who already signed the paperwork condemning someone else
"The Angel Audit arrives," he said. "Prepare your souls, or at least your spreadsheets."
---
2. The Descent of the Auditor
A beam of sterile white light struck the courtyard tiles, coalescing into a winged figure in immaculate robes. Not golden, not radiant—just perfectly clean. The kind of clean that implied "imperfection is a terminal sin."
The Angel Auditor's wings weren't feathers. They were pages. Each page shimmered with stamped seals and itemized ledgers. There were margins, footnotes, and an ominous clause index.
Ne Job whispered, "Is that… paper wings?"
Yue slapped his shoulder. "Do not speak until absolutely necessary."
The Angel Auditor touched ground. The courtyard trembled, tiles re-aligning to a symmetrical grid. Every pebble found its correct position.
"One minute late," the Angel declared, voice echoing like a board meeting. "The mortal realm's chronometric fidelity is—"
A page flipped with the violence of a thrown stapler.
"—UNACCEPTABLE."
A gust of paperwork hit Ne Job like a tsunami. He stumbled backwards, pinned to the ground beneath a mountain of forms stamped NON-COMPLIANT.
He hadn't even done anything yet.
---
3. Princess Ling Picks the Wrong Battle
Princess Ling landed from the rooftop in her jade-lined sandals.
"HEY! Sky pigeon! You're blocking signal to my new livestream tower!"
The Angel's head rotated, creaking like old hinges.
"I am Audit Seraph Second Class, Tegarchiel. I hold jurisdiction over celestial operations including—"
"—boringness?"
The courtyard gasped.
Ne Job didn't gasp because he was still trying to breathe through paperwork.
Tegarchiel's wings rustled dangerously. One of the pages detached itself, fluttering into Princess Ling's hands.
She looked at it.
Her smile vanished.
"This says I owe the Heavens—" Her eyes widened. "—seventeen years of unpaid spiritual taxes?!"
Yue leaned toward Lord Xian.
"Should we intervene?"
"No," Xian murmured. "Let the Angel handle the influencer. We need the distraction."
---
4. Tegarchiel Itemizes the Universe
The Angel Auditor raised a staff shaped like a fountain pen.
"Inventory of Mortal Interference: Item One."
The courtyard tiles cracked and unspooled like ledger lines. A graph formed in midair, showing:
Mortal misconduct per month
Bureau inefficiency ratio
Paperwork spirit corruption levels
And an inexplicable spike labeled: NE JOB INCIDENTS
Ne Job freed one hand from the paperwork pile. "That spike is not me. That spike is… uh…"
The graph pulsated and projected a hologram of him kicking a celestial filing cabinet into a demon.
"Okay that one might be me," Ne Job admitted.
The Angel did not blink.
"You, initiate-class mortal godling, have transgressed nine hundred fifty-two divine regulations. Beginning with FORM OMNI-001: Unauthorized Flame Application on Heavenly Property."
Ne Job sputtered. "It was on fire already!"
"Form OMNI-002: Reckless usage of divine weaponry within mortal administrative confines."
"It was the only way to get the elevator unstuck!"
The Angel continued unbothered: "Form OMNI-003: Emotional harassment of Shard Court Judge."
Ne Job froze. "Look, in my defense, he started crying before I arrived!"
Behind him, Yue raised her hand. "That one is actually true."
---
5. Bao Does the Worst Possible Thing
Dreivery Spirit Bao rolled in from the cafeteria carrying a bowl of noodles the size of a moon.
"WHOA, COSPLAY ANGEL MAN! WANT SOME MY SIGNATURE SPICY DRAGON NOODLES?"
Tegarchiel turned slowly, wings stiffening.
Ne Job silently mouthed: no
Bao shoved the bowl directly under the Angel's nose.
The soup boiled. Not because of heat—because the broth was afraid.
"Dragon peppers from the Nether Bazaar!" Bao beamed. "Guaranteed to make your soul hallucinate tax codes!"
Tegarchiel inhaled once.
And coughed.
Not a normal cough.
A celestial cough—one that rewrote reality.
A shockwave rippled outward. The Bureau courtyard briefly turned into a flaming audit office where every desk had a mandatory ergonomic inspection form.
Ne Job's eyes bulged. "Bao you killed us all."
"No," Bao said cheerfully. "That was just the mild sauce."
---
6. Xian Pulls the Emergency Protocol
Lord Bureaucrat Xian finally stepped forward.
"Tegarchiel of the Audit Wing," he intoned, every word soaked in ancient authority. "By Subclause 8 of the Celestial Workplace Governance Charter, an Angel Audit may not proceed until mortal representatives are given opportunity to file an Initial Plea."
The Angel's wings shuddered.
"Clause acknowledged."
Ne Job was suddenly free of paperwork, dumped unceremoniously onto the floor.
He blinked.
"Wait. I'm the representative?"
Yue looked at him with the tight smile of someone who had once broken a window by throwing you through it.
"You're the intern. And the intern handles the preliminary paperwork."
Tegarchiel extended a blank tome the size of a tombstone.
"Please complete this form to explain the totality of the Bureau's misconduct."
Ne Job stared at its title:
FORM OMNI-000: All Crimes Ever
His soul made the sound of a dying printer.
---
7. The Forgotten God of Paperwork Speaks
A slow rustle echoed from the courtyard shadows.
Forms rearranged like migrating birds. The tiles readjusted, sealing cracked lines. The ink from discarded sheets seeped toward a single point.
The Forgotten God of Paperwork emerged, tall, robed, ancient—his eyes glowing with the steady exhaustion of a lifetime spent alphabetizing.
He lifted his staff, which was really just the most overworked ballpoint pen in existence.
"Tegarchiel," he rasped, "you bring the Book of Omni?"
The Angel bowed stiffly. "Per Heaven's decree."
The Forgotten God sighed, a sound like a million staplers accepting defeat.
"You do not understand this Bureau. Here, chaos is order. Paperwork is war. Filing cabinets are beasts."
He turned slightly toward Ne Job.
"And interns are weapons the gods fear to name."
Ne Job blinked. "That last part is not encouraging."
---
8. The Audit Turns Personal
Tegarchiel stepped closer to the Forgotten God.
"Your domain has been declared unstable. Heaven recommends termination, dissolution, and archival."
Princess Ling gasped.
Bao dropped his noodles.
Even Yue flinched.
The Forgotten God didn't.
He looked straight at the Angel.
"If Heaven wants to shut down this Bureau," he said quietly, "then Heaven will need more than a junior auditor with pretty wings."
The courtyard went dead silent.
Tegarchiel's wings expanded to a hundred pages, glyphs glowing like fresh ink.
"Challenge acknowledged," he said.
"I hereby escalate this audit to Combat Review Level."
A single page detached and spun like a blade, embedding in a stone pillar — carving the words:
DUEL OF ACCOUNTABILITY
Ne Job swallowed.
Princess Ling whispered, "What does that mean?"
Bao wiped sweat from his forehead.
"It means the paperwork is going to start hitting people."
---
9. The Impossible Assignment
The Angel turned to Ne Job.
"You will complete FORM OMNI-000 during the combat review."
Ne Job looked at the tome again.
It had gained extra pages while he wasn't looking.
It now resembled a hungry beast.
"But—how am I supposed to—"
"Noncompliance," Tegarchiel said, "will be interpreted as admission of guilt."
Yue placed a hand on Ne Job's shoulder.
"Breathe. It's just all crimes ever committed by the Bureau."
"That's not comforting!"
"Then I have failed to comfort you. Please begin."
---
10. The First Strike of Paper
Tegarchiel moved.
No flap, no wind—just one page slicing the air, cleaner than a lawyer's smile.
It launched at the Forgotten God.
He blocked with the pen-staff.
Ink sprayed like blood.
Ne Job opened the tome, hands trembling.
Section One: "Document All Historical Anomalies, Deviations, Violations, Grievances, Corruptions, Scandals, and Intentional Misfilings."
There was a checkbox next to: "Include incidents caused by interns."
Ne Job screamed internally until his mind produced a white noise resembling a fax machine.
---
11. The Audit Duel Begins
Ink spears erupted from Tegarchiel's wings, a rain of immaculate compliance. The Forgotten God responded with wild brushstroke barriers, each glowing with bureaucratic rebellion.
"Ne Job!" Yue shouted.
"Write something! Anything!"
"I DON'T KNOW HOW TO START FORM OMNI-000!"
Princess Ling swiped her phone. "I'll send you my scandal folder—"
"NO," everyone shouted.
Bao hurled noodles like flaming projectiles, each broth splash forming temporary shields.
Ne Job stared at the tome.
He wrote two words:
It wasn't my fault.
The tome pulsed.
Pages turned.
A new heading appeared:
BEGIN STATEMENT OF RESPONSIBILITY
Ne Job screamed into the sky: "THIS IS LITERALLY THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I MEANT!"
Tegarchiel's shadow fell over him.
"That sentence has been registered," the Angel said coldly.
"As confession."
---
To be continued…