The face that emerged was not the visage of a monster, but that of a man. A man marked by sorrow, by hard choices and harder consequences. His skin, pale from years hidden behind the mask, seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.
But it was his eyes that captured Zain's attention and held it. Those eyes, a striking hazel that seemed to shift between green and gold, held depths of pain and wisdom that belied the youthfulness of his other features. They were the eyes of someone who had seen too much, who had walked through the darkest valleys of human experience and emerged... changed.
For a moment, the hall was utterly silent. The Black Death's lieutenants stood frozen, scarcely believing what they were witnessing. This unmasking was more than the reveal of a face; it was the shattering of a mythos, the humanization of terror itself.
Anumors knelt slowly, bringing himself to Zain's eye level. A sad smile, small but genuine, softened his features. When he spoke, his voice was gentler than anyone in the room had ever heard it.
"Zain," he said softly, the name carrying a weight of unspoken understanding. "Do you know why I have shown you my face?"
The boy, still trembling from the night's horrors, could only shake his head mutely.
Anumors reached out, his hand gently cupping Zain's cheek. The touch was warm, almost paternal, a stark contrast to the cold efficiency with which he had ended so many lives mere moments ago.
"Because I see myself in you, child," he continued, his voice carrying a hint of an emotion long forgotten. "The world is not kind to people like us – those who care, those who seek to help all they can, those who strive to do what is right."
As he spoke, the hardness in his eyes seemed to soften, revealing a glimmer of the man he might have been in another life. The Black Death, the most feared being in the land, looked almost vulnerable in that moment.
"The masses discard us, forgetting our sacrifices in the blink of an eye. They criticize harshly upon us when we defy the foolish rules constructed to oppress the weak and the kind-hearted."
Zain, finding his voice at last, whispered, "But... why are you saying all this to me?"
Anumors leaned in closer, his next words carrying a weight that seemed to alter the very air around them. "Because I want you to inheri-"
His words were cut short as his body tensed, instincts honed by years of survival kicking in. In a fluid motion that belied his massive frame, Anumors spun, his hand shooting out to snatch a severed head hurled in his direction.
The moment shattered, the vulnerability replaced by cold, lethal focus. The Black Death rose to his full height, mask forgotten on the floor, as he turned to face a new threat.
"The severed head of one of my lieutenants," Anumors growled, his voice hardening like tempered steel. "To think you could slay him so effortlessly...truly amazing."
The only being in existence capable of matching the Black Death in sheer, unholy might. Obsidian, the greatest enemy Anumors had ever faced, had finally arrived, just as Hitesh had arranged.
"Huh, a compliment from the Black Death..." Obsidian's tone was utterly devoid of emotion, mocking even in its neutrality. "And I even get to see him without his mask. Call me lucky." His lip curled ever so slightly. "What rubbish were you filling that innocent kid's head with?"
Anumors straightened, his piercing gaze unwavering. "Don't concern yourself with that. You won't live long enough to share any tales."
In that charged moment, the two most feared figures to stalk the lands stood opposed, their mere presence saturating the air with a dread so palpable it could be tasted. The Black Death and the Black-Eyed Devil, unstoppable forces of destruction given human form, were poised to finally settle the score.
As their battle approached, only one chilling certainty remained - when the smoke will clear, only one of these avatars of death would still draw breath.