The dark, eerie night stirred unease in some but breathed life into creatures of the darkness, as it marked the beginning of their time to hunt and continue the cycle of survival that the daytime creatures embraced under the sun.
Gradually, the night's shadows drew back as a cosmic star began its ascent over the horizon, vanquishing the darkness once more.
Daytime creatures emerged from their slumber, taking their place in the world as the cycle continued.
Azrael stood by the window of an upscale building—a place that appeared simple but cost a fortune to inhabit.
Ss He looked down at the people below, his gaze cold and detached, like that of a higher deity.
Well, he was one, after all.
"How pathetic," he thought, "a deity of my standards, dwelling among mortals. I should be defeating Titans and ruling this world as Godking—not Zeus."
"My death at Ventus's hands has left me in this mortal weakness, with no idea where my enemies are. Even if I knew, what could I do in this state?"
"I'm certain once they learn of my awakening in this weak form, they'll send armies to kill me. Heh."
A ruthless glint passed through his eyes. "But I will rise again. I'll build an army—an unstoppable force. I'll wage war against the gods once more. And once I recover my relics, my sword will bathe in their blood."
The lavish suite behind Azrael was a stunning display of wealth, its red carpet flooring, rose-gold chandelier, and rich blue walls adorned with priceless paintings.
Just stepping inside would make anyone feel unworthy—poor, even filthy—as though they might disrupt the pristine beauty surrounding them. Even the air felt expensive.
Azrael had spared no expense to secure such comfort, paying 500,000 gold coins for the suite.
"Money well spent, I suppose."
Power, however, was Azrael's ultimate goal. Riches were nothing compared to reclaiming his place above all.
"I know I'll get stronger once I recover my dragon armor and Death Sword, but the system hasn't located them yet," Azrael thought, frustrated and angered at the supreme ones who had cast him into this humiliating punishment.
Just then, a thought flashed in his mind—a reminder of something he had overlooked: his new pet.
He glanced down at his right arm, where a tattoo of a snake seemed to demand his attention.
The snake coiled around a branch, poised to strike, with its fangs bared.
"Strogoi," he murmured, recalling its origins. "Once beings of the angelic race, now corrupted by forbidden power, falling to darkness in their quest for strength."
A dark smile spread across his face. "I, Azrael, Angel of Death and Emperor of Darkness, summon you to appear before me—your new master!"
Before him, with a flash, the giant python materialized, its head reaching toward the fifteen-foot ceiling despite coiling tightly to conserve space.
Slowly, the python lowered its head, its crimson eyes gleaming with a fierce intensity as it locked onto Azrael.
Yet, despite the creature's powerful presence, Azrael's expression remained calm, unfazed by the deadly stare of his new summon.
A moment later, the python's massive head dipped even further, touching the ground as it bowed before its new master.
The true reason the strogoi beast hadn't attacked or attempted to devour him was the overwhelming presence of Azrael's soul.
Its holy essence, shrouded in shadows, carried a chilling aura of destruction and calamity that made even this monstrous being submit.
Azrael's soul, dark and dreadful, resonated with a power the python instinctively feared.
As it gazed upon Azrael, a thought echoed through the python's mind, a mixture of disbelief and fear: Isn't the Dark Emperor supposed to be dead? What is this chaotic being doing alive?
The dark emperor had plagued the strogoi before, forcing many of them into his armies by mind control or threatening their very existence.
Though the strogoi were once feared by the celestials, Azrael had proven himself a true menace, capable of obliterating their numbers with ease.
What had once seemed like mere myth—a single celestial who could bring about their extinction—had become a dreadful reality the day he nearly annihilated them.
Now, faced with the one they had feared above all, the python knew its fate was sealed.
It had once tried to hunt this being, thinking him easy prey, but instead, it had been pulled into the very heart of Azrael's dark domain—a place worse than hell itself.
Azrael looked down, a hint of disappointment crossing his face.
"Hm, you're surprisingly compliant. I thought I'd have to teach you a lesson before you'd obey," he muttered, almost saddened by the lack of resistance.
"I guess there's no need to rip out your scales until you submit."
'What a maniac', the python thought, though it could not voice its fears aloud.
---
[Ding!!]
〘You can now access your tamed pet's status〙
Show me, Azrael commanded mentally.
---
〘Tamed Pet: Pythonian〙
〘Race: Strogoi〙
〘Power Level: Mid-level Demigod〙
---
[Abilities:]
[Mind Command - Allows the python to influence weak-willed individuals, forcing them into submission.]
[Shadow Walk - Grants the python the power to move unseen through shadows, cloaking itself from sight.]
[Immortal's Regeneration - Allows the python to heal from even severe injuries, given a calculated period.]
[Gluttony - The more powerful beings it consumes, the stronger it becomes, with potential for evolution.]
"Hm, you possess quite astonishing and reliable abilities. I suppose you'll be valuable," Azrael said.
"And you won't be useless later, as gluttony will make you stronger."
Much like completing quests for rewards, the Python had the gluttony skill to increase its strength.
Azrael held high standards, surrounding himself only with powerful allies; in his view, only the strong deserved to survive in a world like this.
The weak, in his eyes, served merely as cannon fodder or stepping stones.
"Be gone now," Azrael waved his hand, and immediately, the gigantic strogoi vanished, leaving behind specks of dust.
Knock!
Knock!
Knock!
A soft knock sounded at the door. Before he could take a step, it was kicked open, and a woman with a fierce gaze strode in.
"Azrael!" Evan shouted, taking a combat stance. "Fight me!"
****