The five guardians turned pale as they sensed the air around them growing violent, feeling as if an overwhelming weight bore down on their shoulders beneath the gaze of the obsidian eyes fixed upon them.
One of them, an old woman, attempted to speak in an effort to manage the situation.
"That... Lilith's soul..."
She stammered, struggling to find an answer to curb the madness spilling from the man before her, but before she could articulate her thoughts, she gasped as a hand tightened around her neck.
The other four guardians surrounding the woman were sent hurtling away by the aura radiating from Azazeal, as if they were mere feathers caught in a tempest, insignificant in the wake of his power.
