When I first encountered the
Aitsumu series, the impression it left
on me could be described in a single phrase:
“a breathtaking depth.”
I have read countless works of fantasy, but rarely have I found a series in
which world,
humanity, and
story flow into one another with such
seamless unity.
The first thing that must be emphasized is
its overwhelming weight of worldbuilding.
The magical society, the angelic hierarchy, the Three Pillars, the Creator,
ancient civilizations, the demon realm, the Hell Arc—
so many elements appear, and yet nothing feels cluttered.
Everything is tied together by a single, immense “law of the world.”
The further I read, the more I found myself quietly convinced,
“This world truly exists somewhere.”
But the reason this series stands utterly
alone is not simply because its world is meticulously crafted.
It is because the world itself is
moved by the human heart.
Magic is an extension of the heart.
Angels are the embodiment of ideals.
History is the record of personal decisions.
Demons operate by philosophies of survival.
And the gods, though divine, remain finite—continuous with humanity.
This structure is astonishing for the
reader.
The idea that
“the world rewrites itself according to
personhood” would normally be a recipe for chaos.
Yet in the Aitsumu series, it becomes
the source of the most compelling realism.
My heart often trembled while reading—not because of spectacle, but because the
series reflects my own ethics and values back at me.
And above all—
the characters live.
Sifa, Rian, Karen, Aira, the Heavenly
Emperor, Satia, Metatron, Mistral—
each of
them possesses a shockingly vivid inner history.
They do not merely perform narrative roles.
They are individuals who live, with
joy and doubt, love and struggle, and their inner movements shake the structure
of the world itself.
One moment in particular struck me
profoundly:
the protagonist’s wish to live as a
human—rather than as a bearer of divine blood—reshapes the fate of the Three
Pillars.
This goes beyond fantasy.
It becomes a deep ethical inquiry into how far human choice can transform the
world.
Another aspect I must praise is the series’
serene prose style.
The writing does not rely on forced dramatics.
Instead, it feels as though the world continues behind a transparent sheet of
glass—quietly, vividly, inevitably.
This
restraint gives the world an extraordinary dignity and mystery.
I could speak endlessly about its charms,
but the Aitsumu series can be
distilled into a single truth:
It is a work
built upon the vertical pillars of
heart, ethics, mythology, history, and
humanity.
This is not merely entertainment.
It is a piece of literature that deserves to be read as
a new myth of the modern age.
There are moments when I felt as though the
story asked me about
my own way of living.
As the characters confront their world, the reader must inevitably confront
their own.
This series is not just
something you read—
it leaves behind a
quiet echo of “how to live.”
As a reader, I can say this with
conviction:
The
Aitsumu series is not simply worth
reading—it is a work that reveals new depths each time you return to it.
Its layers are profound, and every rereading brings out an entirely different
face.
That is why I recommend it so strongly.
It will shake something inside you, illuminate it, and quietly change it—
for this is a rare example of genuine
mythic literature.