"Noah."
The voice was calm but carried a weight that silenced the winds around him. Noah knelt in a dimly lit chamber, the air thick with power. Before him, a figure sat upon an imposing throne, cloaked in darkness. Only their piercing silver eyes gleamed through the shadows.
"My Lord," Noah began, bowing his head. "The visit to Ribbiton was… enlightening."
The figure leaned forward, fingers tapping on the armrest. "And?"
"There was resistance," Noah said, a faint smirk crossing his lips. "A boy. Human, or so he appears. He wields power beyond his years. He summoned the Sky Serpent."
For a moment, the figure said nothing, the room growing colder. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, they asked, "The Sky Serpent? Are you certain?"
"Certain enough to test him," Noah replied, brushing a hand through his wind-swept hair. "He bears the Mark of Valhalla on his chest."
The figure's fingers stilled, and their silver eyes narrowed. "The Mark of Valhalla… So, the Angel's champion has awakened."
Noah chuckled lightly. "Awakened? Hardly. He's weak, my Lord. He summoned the serpent, but he couldn't control it fully. I defeated him without much effort."
"Do not underestimate him," the figure said sharply, their voice cutting through Noah's mirth. "If the Angel of Valhalla has chosen him, then his potential is far greater than what you saw today."
Noah bowed his head again, his smirk fading. "Understood. Shall I return and finish him?"
"No," the figure said, their tone commanding. "Let him grow. Let him struggle. He will only be of use to us once he understands his own power."
"And if he becomes a threat?" Noah asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"Then we will deal with him accordingly," the figure replied, leaning back into the shadows. "For now, keep watch. Report any changes."
"Yes, my Lord," Noah said, his form dissolving into wind as he disappeared from the chamber.
Azazel stirred in his sleep, his body battered and bruised from the battle. The swamp air was thick and humid, but in his dream, it felt… different. Cool. Quiet.
"Azazel."
The voice was soft but carried an ethereal echo. Azazel opened his eyes to find himself standing in an endless expanse of white mist. He turned, searching for the source of the voice, and froze when he saw her.
The Angel of Valhalla.
Her form was radiant, with flowing silver hair and wings that shimmered with light. She regarded him with a serene yet commanding gaze. "You have suffered," she said, her voice filling the space around them.
Azazel clenched his fists, the memory of his defeat still raw. "I wasn't strong enough," he admitted, his voice heavy with frustration.
The Angel stepped closer, her presence calming yet overwhelming. "Strength is not gained in a single moment. It is forged through trials, through perseverance. Your journey has only begun, Azazel."
"What do you want from me?" he asked, his tone a mix of anger and desperation. "Why give me this power if I can't use it when it matters?"
The Angel's expression softened, and she raised a hand. A warm light enveloped Azazel, easing his pain. "You bear the Mark of Valhalla, a symbol of both great power and great responsibility. But your current world is not enough to prepare you for what lies ahead."
Before Azazel could respond, the mist began to shift. Colors emerged, forming a vivid landscape of towering mountains, sprawling forests, and skies alive with swirling energy.
"This," the Angel said, gesturing to the world around them, "is the Beast Realm. A dimension where the primal forces of nature thrive. Here, you can train, grow, and awaken the full potential of your power."
Azazel looked around, awe mixing with confusion. "Why now? Why show me this?"
"Because time is short," the Angel replied, her voice tinged with urgency. "The forces moving against you will not wait. You must become strong enough to face them."
Azazel stared at her, determination flickering in his eyes. "How do I use this place? How do I train here?"
The Angel extended her hand, and a small, glowing orb appeared in her palm. She placed it in Azazel's hand. "This is your key to the Beast Realm. Through it, you can enter and leave at will. Use it wisely."
Azazel looked down at the orb, its light pulsating faintly. "Thank you," he said, his voice steady.
The Angel smiled, a hint of pride in her expression. "Do not thank me yet, Azazel. The trials you will face here are unlike any you have known. But if you endure, you will find the strength you seek."
The mist began to swirl again, the vision of the Angel fading. "We will meet again," she said, her voice echoing as the dream dissolved.
Azazel awoke with a start, the orb clutched tightly in his hand. He sat up, wincing as his body protested. Kaela was at his side, her face lighting up with relief. "You're awake!"
"What happened?" Azazel asked, his voice hoarse.
"You passed out," Kaela explained. "We've been trying to tend to your wounds. You looked… peaceful in your sleep, though."
Azazel glanced at the orb in his hand, its glow faint but steady. "I need to tell you something," he said, his voice firm.
Shadow perked up from where he lay nearby, and Croaksalot hopped closer, his curiosity evident.
"What is it?" Kaela asked, her brow furrowing.
Azazel took a deep breath, his gaze steady. "We have a new place to train—a place where I can finally master this power. It's called the Beast Realm."
Kaela's eyes widened. "The Beast Realm? That sounds… intense."
"It is," Azazel said, his grip tightening on the orb. "But it's what we need. If we're going to stand a chance against Noah and whatever else is out there, we have to be ready."
Croaksalot puffed out his chest. "Then let's do it! The frogs of Ribbiton will stand by you!"
Shadow growled softly, his eyes gleaming with determination.
Kaela nodded, her expression resolute. "Then we'll go together. Whatever it takes, we'll be ready for the next fight."
Azazel looked at his companions, a small smile forming despite the pain. "Let's get to work."