Serelina stood in her apartment, wearing only a spaghetti strap tank top and her underwear, her focus trained intently on the cauldron of viscous mixture bubbling before her. The air was thick with the mingling scents of alchemical ingredients and lingering heat.
"Only a little more, and this damn thing will be done," she muttered, her voice heavy with determination as she wiped sweat from her forehead.
When the moment felt right, she picked up the small vial of Moonvine sap and let a single drop fall into the cauldron. The mixture reacted immediately, swirling and shimmering faintly.
"At last! It's finally done," she breathed, relief evident in her tone. "Now I just need to wait for it to cool down. While I wait, I'll ingest the serum—I'll need my mana to confront her." She spoke absentmindedly, her mind already planning the next steps.
She quickly tied her hair back, securing it out of her face. Then, reaching out, she grabbed a glass bottle containing a glowing blue liquid. Without hesitation, she uncorked it and brought it to her lips, swallowing the contents in one swift motion.
A cool sensation spread through her body, refreshing and invigorating, but Serelina knew this was only the beginning. A sharp headache struck suddenly, making her wince, but it vanished just as quickly as it appeared. In its place, a warm, soothing feeling blossomed in her belly, growing steadily until it enveloped her core.
She exhaled slowly, steadying herself. "It's starting," she murmured, a glint of resolve flickering in her eyes.
Serelina suddenly felt a sharp, excruciating pain erupt from her stomach, causing her to clutch at her midsection. The sensation was unbearable, spreading rapidly through her entire body like molten fire coursing through her veins. She had prepared herself for the pain—she knew it was inevitable—but even her resolve wavered in the face of its intensity.
Her breaths came in ragged gasps, her knees buckling as she clung to the edge of the table for support. Every second stretched into what felt like an eternity, the searing agony consuming her senses.
Finally, just as she thought she couldn't endure another moment, the pain began to wane. The fiery torment gave way to a strange, pulsing warmth centered in her stomach. She could feel it—a tangible energy, raw and potent, swirling like a miniature storm in her core.
"This must be mana," she whispered, her voice shaky but laced with awe. Her trembling hands rested on her abdomen as if to confirm the sensation, her amazement washing away the lingering echoes of pain. The reality of it struck her—this was no longer just a concept from the novel. It was real, and it was hers.
Serelina let out a soft, almost mischievous chuckle as the warmth enveloping her body deepened into something profoundly satisfying. "This feeling... it's beyond words," she murmured, a smirk gracing her plump lips. "So much better than any orgasm I experienced in my past life."
Suddenly, a wave of excruciating pain surged through her body, relentless and overwhelming.
"Damn it!" Serelina hissed through clenched teeth, her trembling hands clutching the counter for support.
Her eyes darted to the cauldron before her, the shimmering purple concoction now settled and cooled to perfection. The liquid pulsed faintly, almost as if alive, beckoning her to seize the power it promised. Gritting her teeth against the agony, she snatched a glass, poured the viscous mixture, and drank it in one swift motion.
The taste hit her like a shock—bitter, metallic, and strangely electrifying. She barely managed to set the empty glass down with a faint clink before the sensation overtook her.
Her heart thundered in her chest, each beat a deafening drum in her ears, and the air around her seemed to hum with raw anticipation.
Then, her vision blurred, and the room spun wildly out of control. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed, her cheek meeting the cool surface of the kitchen floor. For a fleeting moment, the cold against her burning skin was a reprieve from the searing torment before darkness claimed her.
When she came to, she was no longer in her apartment. Instead, an oppressive darkness surrounded her, a void that stretched endlessly in every direction. Her bare feet felt nothing beneath her as if she floated in a space where time and gravity held no sway.
Before her floated a glowing purple orb, pulsating faintly with ominous energy. It seemed alive, bound by black squiggly lines that shimmered with an eerie glow, as though straining to contain the artifact's immense power.
'The Abyssal Orb,' Serelina thought, her mind racing. 'One of the legendary artifacts in this world. Its origins are shrouded in mystery—even in the novel, nothing definitive was ever revealed. But the most terrifying aspect?'
She swallowed hard, her eyes fixed on the swirling orb.
'It has its own ego.'
Suddenly, a figure materialized from the swirling energy around them—a striking, ethereal woman. Her dark purple hair cascaded down in waves, shimmering like shadows in the dim light. Glowing red eyes pierced the air with an intense, unrelenting gaze, and horns curled from the each side of her head, adding to her otherworldly aura.
Her body-hugging purple dress seemed to shimmer with an almost unnatural brilliance, accentuating her commanding presence. Over her shoulders draped a luxurious fur coat, its texture rich and regal, symbolizing her power and status. She stood like a living embodiment of arrogance and pride itself, every inch of her form radiating an aura of superiority that seemed to bend the very air around her.
"Ah... so, the one who bears my chains finally arrives. You dare awaken me, mortal? Tell me, child of fleeting years, what purpose drives you to disturb my slumber?"
The orb's glow pulsed, faint tendrils of light slithering across its surface, its voice carrying both intrigue and quiet menace.
"Your kind has always been foolish, believing you can control what you cannot comprehend. Did your father truly think binding me to you would keep me silent forever? How quaint. Speak now, bearer—do you seek to master me, or are you here to beg for mercy?"
"I wish to master you, Azrael," Serelina declared, her voice steady with conviction.
The glowing figure before her, Azrael, paused mid-air. Her luminous form flickered slightly, as though shaken. For the first time since her awakening, the powerful ego looked genuinely bewildered.
"H-how do you know my name?" Azrael asked, her voice carrying both confusion and suspicion. "I have not spoken it aloud for eons, not to mortal nor spirit. Explain yourself!"
Serelina tilted her head, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. "And...….What if I don't?"
Azrael's glow surged, casting sharp, jagged shadows across the void. Fury and indignation rolled off her in waves, her voice trembling with disbelief. "Y-you!" she sputtered, her regal composure unraveling. "Never have I endured such insolence! Those who seek me tremble before my might, or kneel in reverence. And yet you… you dare mock me?"
Serelina's grin widened, her cheekiness fully unleashed. "And what are you going to do about it, Az-Az?" she teased, her voice dripping with playful defiance.
Azrael froze, her ethereal form flickering in what could only be described as sheer disbelief. "Az-Az?!" she thundered, her voice echoing with ancient authority. "How dare you reduce my name—my legacy—to such mockery?!"
"Oh, relax," Serelina said with a smirk, crossing her arms. "I thought we were supposed to be bonding here. Isn't this the part where we become best friends or something?"
Azrael's glow wavered, as if caught between outrage and confusion. "Best… friends?" she repeated, her tone a mix of bewilderment and disdain. "You dare assume familiarity with me, mortal? You are either brave beyond reason or utterly mad!"
"And yet, here we are," Serelina replied, unfazed. "I'd say it's working out splendidly so far."
Azrael's glowing form pulsed with indignation, her ethereal eyes narrowing as if piercing through Serelina's very soul. A faint twitch betrayed her barely restrained fury. "You dare speak to me of friendship?" she hissed, her voice laced with venom and disbelief. "Preposterous! You reinforce the chains that imprison me, the very seal that binds my essence. Yet, you claim camaraderie while keeping me shackled like a beast!"
Serelina tilted her head, her expression unfazed despite the palpable fury radiating from Azrael. "Well, technically, you are a bit of a wild card, aren't you?" she teased with a wry smile.
"Silence!" Azrael's voice cracked like thunder, her ethereal form bristling with barely contained energy. "You mortals are all the same—hypocrites! You lust after my power, my knowledge, yet you shackle me, trembling at the very strength you crave. Tell me, Serelina, how is your hypocrisy any different?"
Serelina drew a steady breath, her usual playful demeanor slipping away, replaced by an uncharacteristic solemnity. "You're right," she admitted softly, her voice tinged with understanding. "I can't blame you for being angry. You've endured unimaginable suffering across eons. But I'm not like the others, Azrael. I don't want to keep you imprisoned—it's not my choice; it's a necessity. You know that if I fully awaken my mana, your power will break free too, and that would kill me. It almost did, just now."
Her hand instinctively pressed to her chest, the lingering echoes of pain reminding her of how close she'd come to losing everything.
Serelina's thoughts wandered briefly to the Azrael she had come to know through the novel—the character who had captured her heart. Azrael, with all her pain and complexity, wasn't just some abstract figure anymore; she was real, tangible, and even more tragic than the words on the page had conveyed.
Though it might seem sentimental, Serelina understood what Azrael truly needed. Beneath all the wrath and ancient pride was a being starved for connection, for someone who saw her not as a tool or a threat, but as an equal. Serelina was willing to be that person—Azrael's friend.
After all, this wasn't just a story anymore. The lines of fiction and reality had blurred, and Serelina was living it now.
Azrael fell silent, her radiant form dimming slightly as the weight of Serelina's words settled over her. The crackling energy that had once surrounded her now softened, almost hesitant. She could sense it—the truth in Serelina's statement. Indeed, the fragile body before her was trembling, barely holding itself together under the strain of the power she had unconsciously allowed to seep out.
Azrael's glowing eyes fixed on Serelina, her gaze sharp yet contemplative. For eons, she had known mortals to be manipulative, deceitful, and hypocritical, but this one… this girl… she was different.
"You speak the truth," Azrael said finally, her voice quieter now, tinged with a reluctant acknowledgment. "Your frail form… it cannot withstand even the merest fraction of my energy. Yet you stand here, bold and defiant, speaking of friendship and understanding. Why?"
Serelina steadied herself, meeting Azrael's gaze despite the oppressive force still lingering in the air. "Because you're not just a weapon or a source of power to me," she said firmly. "You're Azrael—a being with thoughts, feelings, and a history that deserves to be acknowledged. I don't just want your strength; I want to know you."
Azrael's form flickered again, her expression unreadable. Slowly, she floated closer to Serelina, her glowing features softening. "You risk much with such sentiments, mortal," she murmured. "Do you truly believe I am worth this effort?"
Serelina's lips curled into a small, genuine smile. "More than worth it. If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here, would I?"
Azrael's gaze lingered on Serelina for what felt like an eternity, the silence thick between them. Finally, with a soft, resigned sigh, she withdrew, her radiant glow dimming ever so slightly. "Very well, Serelina. I shall give you this chance to prove yourself. But heed this warning: should you betray the fragile trust you seek to build, I will not hesitate to remind you of the power I hold."
Serelina's resolve remained steadfast as she nodded. "Fair enough."
For the first time, an almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of Azrael's ethereal lips, a fleeting expression that hinted at something softer beneath her ancient pride. "Then let us see where this path of yours leads. I will lend you my power, or what you are capable of taking."
Before Serelina could respond, a sudden urgency pressed against her. "If I want to speak with you again, how do I return here?" she asked quickly, realizing her form was beginning to disintegrate, the effect of the concoction slipping away.
Azrael's voice, calm yet filled with an ancient weight, resonated as her figure began to fade. "Just call me, Mortal."
In the blink of an eye, Serelina's body fully disintegrated, the world around her dissolving into nothingness. But just before she was consumed by the void, she could have sworn she saw a faint smile on Azrael's face, a rare and fragile moment of connection between them.