Darkness—the enemy of light, the place where all evil, secrets, and fear dwell. At least, that was how it was generally known; no one truly saw the beauty that lay within.
The power darkness wielded was far greater than anything light possessed. It fed on fear, pain, and anguish until nothing was left but a void.
A chill ran through Velen's spine at the cold, dark space of nothingness surrounded him.
But that wasn't even the main problem; it was the creep before him, smiling as if he'd lost a few brain cells.
'Do you get it now?' A voice echoed in Velen's mind, distant and hollow. 'No matter how strong you become, I am still your creator. I must be respected, or you'll end up a broken soul.'
Azrael's lips remained unmoving, his expression frozen in that unsettling smile. Yet, his voice resounded in Velen's ears as clear as day.
Despite all the experiences he had endured, Velen showed little fear.
Godslayers were simply humans who could channel massive amounts of Qi into raw power.
Over time, emotions dulled, becoming faint or nearly nonexistent.
But even so, Velen knew the being before him was dangerous.
He had heard from the gods that the dark god had received the ultimate punishment and had been forcefully reincarnated into a human's body.
Supposedly, this made him weak—easy prey.
After all, a godly power couldn't fully manifest in a mortal shell without destroying it under the surge of too much power.
However, it seemed that information had been false because here the dark god stood, effortlessly displaying his power in a human form.
The dark space suddenly trembled, ripples of energy distorting the void.
The darkness slowly dissolved as light seeped through the void, scattering the shadows until they were completely gone.
Now, they were back where they had started, sitting opposite each other as though nothing had happened.
People walked by, going about their business, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.
"Now that we have come to an understanding, I'll take my leave," Azrael said, preparing to summon a teleportation skill.
"Wait! I'll join your army," Velen blurted out. "I don't have much of a choice—you're my god. But I'll do it in my own way to save humanity."
"Sure, I don't care," Azrael replied, clearly eager to leave.
His aura had been unleashed, and celestial beings nearby would likely have sensed his presence.
"I'd like to introduce you to someone. Can we meet back here in two days?" Velen asked.
"Hmm, fine. As long as it benefits me," Azrael said before vanishing into the shadows.
Velen exhaled a sigh of relief.
'I've been getting on a lot of gods' nerves lately, but I'll have to be extra careful with this one. My Godslayer aura won't help me this time.'
.
.
.
In an alley, the dark area shimmered, and a figure rose from the shadows.
He stepped forward, emerging onto the street, but stopped when something caught his attention.
A flyer was pinned to the wall of the street. It bore the dull colors of white and brown, hues often used for serious and urgent matters.
The words on the flyer were an invitation to join some kind of beast-hunting association.
'They're inviting people to hunt beasts. Hmm, this could be crucial to my growth,' Azrael thought. 'I can acquire more BC by killing beasts and complete quests the system would surely give.'
If there was one thing Azrael had noticed about the system, it was that whenever he found himself in a life-threatening situation, a quest would arise—though it had been an entire day without a single word from it.
',₦How annoying!'
Nevertheless, if he went beast hunting, he might encounter situations that would threaten his life, earning him great rewards from a quest.
With that thought, Azrael tore the flyer from the wall, slipped it into his pocket, and continued on his way, heading toward his room.
Unfortunately, he lacked the energy for another teleportation, leaving him with no choice but to endure the painful journey of walking thirty meters to the inn.
Luckily, he made it after a twenty-minute walk through the dark streets, overtaking and shoving slow-moving people out of his way.
'Stupid humans,' he thought. 'They chat with their partners and forget to watch where they're walking.'
'What a foolish act! What if I was in a bad mood and suddenly slit their throats right in front of their loved ones? Then whose fault would it be, huh!?'
'They're lucky.'
Finally, at the inn, Azrael entered nonchalantly, calm as ever, until he reached his room door.
Along the way, some people glared daggers at him from behind, but he stared back coldly, making them so uncomfortable they quickly looked away, creeped out.
'Fools!'
The residents were furious with him for damaging their rooms with cracks and large chunks of missing walls.
Not only that, but Azrael had bribed the manager of the inn—right in front of their eyes—so the manager told them to either tolerate the rooms as they were or fix them with their own money.
Well, that was money talking.
As they always say, money makes the world go 'round.
Azrael actually found it amusing that humans would do anything for gold.
To him, they were just material things—hard, shiny stones, and nothing more.
In fact, the castles of Zeus were usually made from such materials.
To the celestials, gold, silver, and gems were just simple stones with natural designs.
The only things they truly valued were power and dominance.
That was the way of the gods.
Azrael pushed his door open but abruptly stopped midway.
A palm-shaped bloodstain marked the side of the door, with blood drops trailing onto the floor.
Quickly, he became alert and cautiously entered the room, following the blood trail that led to his bedroom.
He stared at his king-sized bed and saw a body lying on the floor beside the large window, swimming in a pool of crimson liquid that seeped into the earth.
He approached the body and gently flipped it over.
"Who in the celestial embodiment dared come into my domain like a rat, and died here…?"
He froze when the body was finally flipped over.
****