Inside the castle, the King, Dolion Sapphire – once a young, heroic knight, now a middle-aged man with political power – sits on his throne with a sour expression affixed to his face. "Naga," he says with his ear-grating, low-pitched voice, "it has been five days. Why has that boy not yet given up yet?"
"It's proving more difficult to get him to scream like the first day, Father," says the red-haired woman. "But do not worry, I promise, the boy will soon break. They all do."
Suddenly the throne room's doors explode. Guards are sent flying into the throne room one after the other.
"What is this? Who dares attack me?" yells the King.
"This body is more compatible with nether energy than I thought," mutters Azrael as he appears from the smoke. He sniffs the air inside the room and with a disgusted face, says, "For there to be this much nether energy in the atmosphere, just how many people have been killed here, I wonder."
"Y-You!!" says Naga, frightened. "How did you escape?"
Azrael glares at Naga, and she shudders. "I have experienced a world of pain. One unlike any I have ever felt before. You are a skilled torturer; I will give you that. However, as I have said before, you should have released me when I gave you a chance. That way, you would be safe from my wrath."
"Silence, you heathen!! How dare you barge into my castle and utter those threats to my daughter!?!? Guards, seize this boy!!"
Witnessing the explosive entrance he made, the guards behind Azrael hesitate. Azrael glares at the King, ignoring the fodder behind him, and says, "Dolion Sapphire. I remember you. A hero chosen by the gods to slay the Demon King, Lucifer. It seems we were mistaken when we chose you." He laughs, "Actually, I was mistaken when I chose you."
"So, you are a god," says Dolion, breaking into a maniacal laughter. "You. God, grant me immortality," he demands.
"I refuse," says Azrael. And it's not like I can do it with my current abilities anyway.
Dolion, irritated and fuming from the mouth, screams, "How dare you!! You are merely a god whose name is unknown to us. State your name, you minor god. State your name and grant me my immortality!!"
"My name?" he asks, annoyed. "Fine. If you want my name so badly, let me indulge you. My name is Azrael."
Naga starts laughing. "Azrael," she says sarcastically. "I have never heard of a God named Azrael. Are you even a God? Father, give up on… Father?"
Naga's ignorance is not solely her fault alone. Humans are unaware of the existence of the six pillar gods. Well, most humans are.
Naga looks back at her father's frightened face. King Dolion, wasting no time, runs down to Azrael and bows before his feet, screaming, "Please, Lord Azrael! Please forgive me!!" with tears running down his face. "Had I known it was you, I never would have…"
"Silence," interrupts Azrael. "Your daughter has laid her hands on me and tortured me. She humiliated me. And worse of all, she has besmirched my name. How, King Dolion, will you make me forgive you?"
The King looks up to Azrael and says, "Anything. If you want her head, I shall place it on a silver platter for you, my Lord."
"M-My head!! Father, what has gotten into you?" asks Naga, frightened. "Just who is this boy?"
"Silence, you wench!!" screams Dolion. Naga flinches and tears fill her eyes. "Have I taught you nothing? This heavenly being before us is none other than one of the Six Primordial Gods, the God of Death, Azrael."
"God… of… Death…?" she says. Her merciless heart sinks to the depths of her rotten soul and Naga is filled with greater fear than Azrael experienced over the last five days. A fear greater than what her father is experiencing. This fear came suddenly and disappeared with her heartbeat. She falls to the ground.
Dolion's face grows pale. He turns to Azrael, keeping his head low and not looking him in the eyes, and says hurriedly, "Please. Please forgive me. You once chose me as the hero; I can change. I can be the hero you once chose. Don't do this. Please."
Well, I didn't do anything to your daughter in the first place, he thinks as he scratches his cheek. He looks down at Dolion, with a pitiful stare and says, "You are mistaken, Hero Dolion. No, former Hero Dolion. I chose you not because you were worthy of being a hero."
"Then why?"
"You were a stain in this world. Your future was filled with violence and tyranny. I chose you to save you from your inevitable future. I wanted to see that you could change your fate if this world accepted you. I was right. You defeated the Demon Lord. You brought peace to the world. You saved many lives. However, once you gained political power... Once you became King of the Sapphire Kingdom, you changed. You became what your future warned about you. You became a tyrannical ruler. Someone more sinister than the Demon Lord. Someone viler than Lucifer. A piece of human trash whom I regret choosing as a hero. A political puppet whom I had to strip of his sacred powers. You, Dolion, became a failure. Scum. Trash." Azrael's eyes glaze with disgust, "Vermin." Azrael turns around and walks away. "I shall spare your life, for you have saved this world. However, if we ever cross paths. If you ever try to capture me. Suppose you ever even think of me. I will hunt you down and give you a taste of true death."
The King – former hero – had no words to say. He sat there, pants soiled. Body dripping in sweat. Eyes red from wailing. His mind was blank. Whether he heard Azrael's words remains a mystery. However, news reports spread throughout the Sapphire Kingdom the following day. The headline: The Reign of Tyranny Continues No More.
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It has been a week since I left the castle. I need to find a way back to The Beginning. However, before that, I need to unseal my magic. Azazel is a tactician. If I charge forward unprepared, I will only repeat my previous mistake.
"Useless brat!!" shouts a man suddenly. Azrael turns to the sound of a whip slashing and a young boy screaming.
Slavery? It has become worse since I last watched over Gaia. Humans have moved on from elves and spirits to enslaving each other. Azrael watches from a food stall as the slaver master whips the boy. He looks around and thinks, Nobody is doing anything. They walk by and pretend as though they are living another day. He notices the pained expressions of the citizens who walk past. No, they can't do anything despite knowing this behaviour is wrong. It must be a law with a hefty punishment if no one chooses to sacrifice themselves. The slave boy starts crying as the slave master continues whipping him. Azrael sighs and says, "Is this what you meant, Azazel?" He walks away, the boy's cries softening as the distance between them grows.
As night descends so does Azrael's hunger rise. His growling stomach echoes through the town. This is the first time I experience hunger. Azrael did not need sleep because he never got tired. He did not need to eat because he never got hungry. Primordial Gods are amorphous beings made of aether energy. They find eternal sustenance from the infinite abundance of aether in The Beginning. Azrael does find it fascinating, though. He is experiencing tiredness and hunger for the first time.
"Are you hungry?" asks a man suddenly.
Azrael looks at the man behind him. His eyes cautiously stalk the yellow-suited man as he says, "You are the slavemaster from earlier."
"Earlier?" The man looks at Azrael through his glasses, confused. "Have we met before?" Azrael does not respond and the man remembers the marketplace incident. He adjusts his glasses and says, smirking, "No… I see. You mean the slave I corrected in the marketplace, right?"
"Corrected? That's a weird way of excusing your actions." He stares at the slavemaster's heart and sees a dark grey flame. "But it's not like that has anything to do with why you're speaking to me right now, right?" Azrael looks up. On the roofs of the buildings surrounding Azrael and the man are several archers aiming at Azrael.
"You are quite perceptive," says the man. "My name is Pierre Olivier. As you may know, I am a slavemaster. One of my spies has informed me of quite a rare boy. One with midnight hair and eyes as pink as rose quartz. When I first heard this, I didn't believe him; however, after witnessing such a specimen, I cannot let you walk away so easily."
Azrael sighs. "Greedy pig," he whispers. "Do all humans want things so badly they would cross a God? Is this how you envisioned them, Neo?"
"God?" asks Pierre, confused.
"Never mind, I was mumbling to myself."
The archers draw their bows. "I will give you one chance, boy. Come with us willingly, or else..."
Why does everyone offer options where not joining them means death? Annoyed, tired and hungry, Azrael says, "I think not," as he scratches his head. "I just gained my freedom a week ago. You will have to find someone else to enslave."
Pierre grows irritated and screams, "Someone else? There is no one else!! It's all that brat's fault!! I wouldn't be so desperate if he didn't free my load." Pierre signals the archers to fire. They release their arrows, all flying to Azrael.
Despite being surrounded by arrows from all around him, Azrael remains calm. He takes a deep breath, and a faint black glow envelops him like armour. The light grows into a thick, jelly-like layer around Azrael. The arrows pierce the jelly layer; however, their momentum halts after lodging into this mysterious aura.
"W-What did you do?" asks Pierre, frightened and confused.
"You don't know what this is?" asks Azrael. "This is what is known as a coating. It's concentrated life energy focused on protecting the user like a shell protects an egg."
"Life energy? Ah, I see. So, you were a magician…?" His glasses fall to the ground, cracking the glass. "I see. I guess this is the end." Pierre drops to his knees, his expression overcome with hopelessness. "I will accept any punishment," he says, accepting his fate.
Azrael sighs. He turns around and walks away. I have no time or energy to punish every human who crosses me.
"He… forgave me…?" Pierre laughs, deranged. "So, my life has been spared? Is this luck? Or is it have I—"
Pierre's sentence is cut short. His relieved expression is permanently plastered on his face. In the shadows behind Pierre's corpse, a silhouette sheathes his blood-stained sword and says, "You deserve no forgiveness," before disappearing into the shadows.
Azrael looks back and says, "So, he finally decided to show himself. Well, killing that man was not my duty. That is why I left it to him."
Day breaks. Azrael, who has not eaten or slept since being brought to this world, is hanging on a thread. He looks normal on the outside; however, inside, he is suffering. I need to find something to eat, or this will be the end of a God, he thinks.
As Azrael walks, a boy runs into him. Both Azrael and the boy fall to the ground. "I-I'm sorry!!" says the boy as he helps Azrael up.
"No need for apologies," says Azrael. He pats the dust off and looks down at the boy. "You are…" Azrael recalls yesterday's commotion with the slave master and the slave boy. "I see. You are the slave boy from yesterday."
The boy looks frightened and backs away from Azrael. "No," he says, with tears filling his eyes. "I don't want to go back. Don't send me back!"
"Is there a problem?" asks an older boy. This blonde-haired boy glares at Azrael with his emerald eyes.
"No, there are no problems."
This is the boy from yesterday. His mana corresponds with the one who killed the slave master.
"Do I know you?" asks the boy, suspicious.
"I doubt you wou—"
Before he can finish speaking, hunger finally seizes victory over Azrael's mind, and he falls to the ground.
"Hey!! Are you okay?" shouts the boy.
Azrael has reached his limit. His body has not gained nutrition for days. After passing out, Azrael wakes up hours later. He gets up from the bed he was lying in and looks around.
"Where am I?" he asks. The door to the room opens, and the blonde-haired boy walks in.
"What is your name?" he asks.
Azrael examines the boy. Now that I look at him properly, he's slightly older than me but... "You look familiar," he says. "Where have I seen you before?"
The boy, irritated, says, "Hey, I asked your name. At least have the courtesy of being graceful to your saviour."
"Yes, I remember now. Acheron Samael. That is your name."
The boy looks at Azrael and asks, shocked, "Where did you... hear that name?"
"I know that you go by a different name now, though. What was it… Ah, right. Your new name is Arthur Pendragon. You are the self-proclaimed 'Protector of Justice'."
The boy becomes hostile. He grabs the sword on his waist and says, "I will give you five seconds to tell me who you are, or else…."
"Or else what?" asks Azrael. "Ever since I came to this world, you humans have shown me nothing but greed, selfishness, and disrespect. No, even before I came to this world, I witnessed it. For the last few centuries, it has grown more disgusting. However, a handful of humans made me hold on to the hope that your race could change. Arthur… No, Acheron, you fight for justice; however, you are no hero. I cannot condone your behaviour any longer."
"What are you talking about?"
"You wanted to know my name. I am one of the Six Primordial Gods – The God of Death, Azrael."
"The God of Death…?" Arthur is stunned by Azrael's revelation for a second before bursting into laughter. "God of Death, huh? If you are a God, why don't you smite those enslavers? That would make my life much easier."
"You continue to ridicule and insult me and my very existence." Azrael glares at Arthur and says, "Boy, you have a bright future; however, if you – like the King and Princess of Sapphire – decide to cross me, your tomorrow will not be a given."
These words weigh heavy on Arthur. His expression fills with fear. He backs away and says, "Don't tell me you truly are…?"
The boy who bumped into Azrael earlier runs into the room. He runs to Azrael and asks, "Are you okay?" with an innocent face.
Despite Azrael's cold personality towards humans, he loves them more than other Primordial Gods. So, when the boy shows concern, Azrael smiles and says, "Yes. I am now much better, thanks to you." Azrael looks at Arthur and says, "You are no hero; however, I can make you one."
"Make me… a hero? What do you mean?"
"What you lack is a hero's power. I can grant you The God of Death's Blessing. I have once granted this blessing to a human, and he abused its power. Acheron, promise me that my power will not consume you. Prove to me that you can change your destiny. Convince me that you are worthy of your name."
"Worthy of my name? What do you mean?"
"Do you want my blessing or not?"
Arthur thinks for a while. He looks at the boy – who is confused by the conversation between Arthur and Azrael. Arthur smiles and says, "I always believed my calling was to free enslaved people like Raven here. Become a hero, a liberator of freedom. However, my hands are stained. I can never be a righteous hero like they are depicted in books."
"True. Heroes are seen as beacons of hope. Acheron, do you not see it? The glint in this boy's eyes. You gave him that glint. Anyone can be a hero. Even the evilest entity can become a hero for someone. Frankly, you are a much better hero than my previous choice."
Arthur's eyes fill with tears. "So, I can be a hero?"
"As long as you accept my blessing."
He nods his head. "Yes," he says. "I accept your blessing."
The room is quiet for a while. "Well..." Azrael scratches his chin, smiling, "Before granting you my blessing, I need to unseal my magic power."
"Then why would you suggest granting me a blessing!!" he shouts.
After Raven leaves the room, Azrael explains what happened in The Beginning. "So," asks Arthur, "What did Azazel use to seal your power? It must be powerful to seal a Primordial God's power."
"Only one seal is powerful enough to seal a Primordial God's power. It is a relic from ancient times called, The Seal of Yahweh."
"The Seal of Yahweh? I've never heard of it before."
"The existence of this relic is known only to a handful. Azazel is one of them."
"But a powerful seal would require a large portion of mana, right?"
"The thing is… Only gods with mana equalling a Primordial God's can use the seal."
"Wait… That means…"
"One of the Primordial Gods working with Azazel."
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—The Beginning
"You have executed your mission perfectly, Azazel," says a man masked in shadows, staring down, with rose quartz eyes like Azrael's, at Azazel, from his throne.
"It was easier than expected."
"My little brother was always so trusting. If he had no emotions, all the minor gods and angels would have been dead... including you."
"So," says Azazel, sweat rolling down his cheek, "what will you do now?"
The God laughs. "What will I do now, you ask? What else. I will destroy the beings known as humans."