Azer, the god of peace, dragged himself across the battlefield, his once-radiant aura dim and flickering. The ground was littered with blood and the remains of a fight that had taken a terrible toll on him. At first, Azer thought he could turn the tides, that his divine strength would be enough. But as the battle wore on, it became clear he was facing something far beyond anything he'd prepared for. His muscles strained, every step agony. His vision blurred, and each heartbeat was like thunder in his ears. It was only through the fierce intervention of his most loyal angels that he'd made it this far. He glanced up at the darkening sky, the distant stars hazy through his failing sight. This wasn't over yet.
**The Battle**
The very heavens seemed to quake as Rostiel, the demon lord, towered over Azer. His form was a monstrous amalgam of shadows, sinew, and cruel power. His twisted wings stretched wide, casting an immense shadow over Azer. His eyes burned with a chilling glee, savoring the sight of the once-mighty god brought low.
"So, this is what a god looks like," Rostiel sneered, his voice thick with disdain. "Look at you, Azer. Kneeling, powerless… pathetically mortal." The demon's laughter filled the battlefield, a sound as cold and empty as the void itself. He lifted a clawed foot and drove it into Azer's side with brutal force. The impact reverberated through Azer's shattered body, and he gasped, his vision flashing white with pain.
This can't be it, Azer thought, desperate. He willed himself to stand, to keep his head high. But his strength was a mere flicker of its former might. The weight of Rostiel's dark energy was suffocating, pressing down on him, squeezing the last remnants of his power.
A sudden cry broke through the chaos. "Stop! Don't hurt our god, Azer!" Floryn, one of Azer's dearest angels, flew forward, her wings once pristine, now torn and blood-streaked. She landed protectively in front of Azer, her arms spread wide, her face defiant even in the face of Rostiel's terrifying presence.
Rostiel chuckled, watching her with cruel amusement. "So, this is your protector?" He raised his voice mockingly, making sure all could hear. "I'll be more than happy to finish him before your eyes."
With a wave of his hand, Rostiel summoned the Spear of Destruction, a weapon forged from the darkest corners of the underworld. Its blade glowed a deadly crimson, pulsing with malevolent energy. Azer's heart pounded at the sight of it—the spear was a thing of legend, rumored to bring absolute death to any it pierced, even gods.
Around Azer, his angels cried out in horror, their collective voices a desperate plea to the heavens. But Azer could only murmur, "This can't happen… Not like this."
Rostiel sneered, "I can hear you, Azer. All your fears, your doubts—they're music to me." With a roar, he hurled the spear straight toward Azer's heart, its deadly tip aimed with perfect precision.
But in that instant, Floryn leapt in front of him. "No, God Azer!" Her voice was filled with unbreakable resolve as she threw herself into the spear's path. The blade tore through her chest with a sickening sound, the force knocking her backward into Azer's arms.
Floryn knelt before Azer, the Spear of Destruction embedded deep in her chest. Dark cracks spread slowly outward from the wound, her once-luminous skin turning black and fragile, breaking apart like burnt paper. Small pieces of her body floated up, disintegrating into the air.
She looked up at Azer, eyes steady and filled with sorrow and love. Her hand, trembling and turning to ash, lifted weakly toward him.
"Azer…" she whispered, her voice soft, each word a struggle as her form continued to dissolve. "Don't give up… Please… protect them…"
"Run… Leave me…" Floryn's voice was faint, her blood staining his hands. "Save yourself…" She looked up at him, her eyes shining with love and sacrifice.
Azer's heart shattered as he held her. "Floryn!" His voice broke. The pain of watching her fade was almost unbearable.
But Floryn's sacrifice had not been in vain. Her body began to glow, the divine light radiating outward, blinding Rostiel and forcing him to stagger back, shielding his eyes.
"Save yourself… protect the others…" her voice echoed, her spirit's final plea as she transformed into pure light, an enduring shield between Azer and the demon lord.
Azer knew he couldn't linger. Gritting his teeth, he summoned his remaining strength. "DIVINE TELEPORTATION!" he shouted, and in a brilliant flash, he disappeared from the battlefield, leaving behind the chaos and Floryn's sacrifice.
**The Divine Decision**
Azer reappeared in the celestial silence of the Realm of the Gods, collapsed and barely breathing. His body was beyond exhaustion, yet his mind was sharp, his purpose clear. He had to take drastic action if his realm was to survive.
Azer was a god of peace, but now he would have to make a sacrifice of his own. To save his world, he'd need a champion from beyond—a hero who could bear his divine powers and stand against Rostiel. Summoning the last of his strength, he created the Divine Orb, a powerful vessel that would transfer his godly abilities to this chosen hero.
**In the Realm of the God**
Krezia, Azer's confidante and dearest ally, rushed to his side. Her usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by fear. "God Azer… are you sure about this?" Her voice wavered, her gaze imploring.
Azer managed a weary smile. "Krezia, it is the only way. This world needs a protector, and I can no longer be that for them. I will make sure the hero has all he needs to face what lies ahead."
Tears filled Krezia's eyes. "But… if you do this, God Azer… you may never return."
Azer's expression grew grave. "I know the risks, Krezia. But this is the choice I must make." He took her hand, his voice soft but steady. "Trust in the hero. I must begin the ritual."
**The Ritual**
Azer moved to the center of the celestial temple, raising his hands high as he channeled every ounce of his power. The air crackled around him, vibrant with divine energy as his form glowed brighter and brighter.
"For this world, I offer my spirit as a guide," he declared, his voice resonating through the temple. "I will grant the hero three sacred powers: infinite mana, mastery of all languages, and the gift of healing. And in exchange… I shall depart from this world." With his final words, he called forth the Divine Orb.
The orb pulsed with pure light, growing brighter as it absorbed his power. And in a sudden burst, it vanished, carrying Azer's divine essence to the mortal realm.
**In the Demon Lord's Castle**
Back in Rostiel's dark, ominous castle, the demon lord sensed something shift. The presence of Azer, faint but persistent, was suddenly gone. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face.
"The god's aura has faded," he mused. "Could it be…?"
Mizawa, his loyal lieutenant, stepped forward, his eyes wary. "Lord Rostiel, perhaps he's only concealing himself. Gods are cunning."
Rostiel's eyes narrowed as he considered the possibility. "Either way, his presence weakens. We will watch and strike at the right time."
**The Aftermath**
Back in the Realm of the Gods, Krezia knelt beside Azer as he lay barely conscious, the ritual having drained him completely.
"Azer… are you alright?" she whispered, worry clouding her usually serene face.
With great effort, he looked at her, his voice faint. "The orb… did it go?"
Krezia nodded slowly. "Yes. It's gone to find the hero."
Azer's face softened, his heart filled with hope. "Then we must wait… and believe that this hero will succeed."
Krezia grasped his hand, struggling to hold back her tears. "But what if…?"
Azer placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Everything will be alright, Krezia. This hero will carry our hope, our strength… our world."
With Azer's sacrifice, the world's fate now rested on the shoulders of a hero yet to be known—a champion who would carry the weight of divine power, a final hope against the encroaching darkness.