The thoughts in his head were racing at a thousand miles per hour. Assimilating that he could move his limbs, that the chains were not present. Looking around, Azmodiel could only feel one emotion regurgitate from his insides. Fury.
Absorbed by complete madness in a way that made him look like a rabid animal, both mentally and physically. His twisted chimera form reflected the madness now dominating his mind. More grotesque and twisted than centuries ago, a new level of madness and rage was present in his form. How could it be different? After thousands of years of trying to escape that prison, to get rid of those chains, Azmodiel had been released against his will.
He didn't escape by his own ability but by an external whim. He had been deprived of the satisfaction that came with being the master of his own freedom. Ripped from his prison and dragged through time and space, through another plane. Without knowing what was happening, Azmodiel was absorbed into a grimoire page by the golden chains.
The deformed creature had no time to assimilate his surroundings or enjoy his ephemeral freedom. Before he could take off to the horizon, he felt a force tying him to something. Under Azmodiel's horrified gaze, the golden chains materialized around him and began to penetrate deep into his being. Azmodiel was now chained at such a deep level that the little illusion of freedom he had left began to evaporate. It seemed like a prison without walls but with chains.
The chains had reached his skin, but they didn't stop there. Becoming less tangible but still visible, they mingled with the flow of energy under the scales and flesh, finding their way to the core of his existence, his soul, and his infernal essence. He would never be free, there was no way to separate the soul from those chains, and deep down he knew it.
The notion of freeing himself from those chains went from being an exasperating challenge to completely impossible, at least from Azmodiel's understanding. As someone whose sole obsession had been to obtain his freedom, Azmodiel was on the brink of going completely mad…
His last step before jumping into the abyss and surrendering to his madness was interrupted by a new scene that covered his entire field of vision. A smell of leather and burnt wood, but very different from what the being was used to. He lifted his gaze and stopped concentrating on himself for a second, assimilating his new surroundings. Greeted by the image of fire and grotesque creatures. These images were noticed but didn't seem important, such things were quite normal in the place where his prison was; Azmodiel thought he had simply ascended to a different circle.
The creature searched his surroundings for some aspect that would tell him in which circle he was now, and how far or close to the surface this circle was. Something that would give him some kind of hope. And then he noticed it, what left Azmodiel practically hypnotized was the starry sky above him. The night sky and a warm breeze that caressed his face told him where he was. One thing he didn't dare to believe: he was not only out of his prison, he was back in the mortal world.
How long had he been longing for this moment? How many times had he dreamed of this? Azmodiel had no answer for any of those questions. He was simply fascinated by contemplating the night sky, which confirmed to him that he was no longer in any of the circles. The only thing that was clear to him and mattered at the moment was that he was finally out of that infernal prison. Whatever his new prison was, it was less confined and possibly lonelier than the previous one.
Still in the fascination of the moment, Azmodiel was quickly brought back to the present by those inferior creatures that wouldn't stop squealing in his direction. Interrupting things he considered more important, like figuring out his current state or the new rules surrounding his confinement. He found the presence of such inferior beings incredibly irritating.
He finally deigned to observe the beings producing such annoyance. Honestly, he didn't remember creatures so repugnant and annoying, but maybe something changed in his absence. Although he was almost sure these couldn't be humans or some other mortal species, no matter how indifferent they seemed to him, such creatures weren't as repulsive as those in front of him at the moment, like flies, equally insignificant.
While planning what to do next, Azmodiel almost wished these things were actually mortals, breaking his father's laws was something he fervently desired.
As thoughts shifted from emotional to rational and fury left his being to be replaced by cautious curiosity, his physical form left its grotesque chimera appearance and began to resemble a more humanoid form, but with wings and horns. He was not aware of his chimera image and even more unaware of when the transformation took place.
Azmodiel reached the best possible conclusion when the last trace of madness hid in the back of his mind. Even if these pale and deformed creatures were something else Azmodiel didn't know, that didn't matter, it didn't make them any less insignificant. As inferior beings, they should be grateful to die in his presence, as a celebration of his return to the mortal world and to make the landscape more pleasant, honestly, it was the greatest honor for them that he was more than happy to fulfill.
Smiling, something he hadn't done in a long time and it was truly a miracle he remembered how he showed a row of sharp teeth. Azmodiel was enjoying the moment, it didn't matter how or why he was there, these creatures were a gift presented to start venting his frustrations from centuries of imprisonment and helplessness. In a movement both elegant and threatening, he spread his black wings, which even in contrast to the night darkness looked even more abysmal. With a closer look, you could notice that the feathers divided independently in the wing, like small sharp daggers floating behind him. With a simple sweep, the feathers, like obsidian blades, pierced the goblins in a single movement. One by one they fell to the ground without consciousness of what had happened or being able to react or defend themselves from the attack.
When the feathers returned to him, his disdain for the goblins turned to disgust. His wings dripped with a dark, viscous substance. How could those filthy creatures dare to dirty his beautiful wings with their disgusting blood, it was all their fault. All his fury returned directed at such creatures that didn't deserve to be in his presence and a second movement, the feathers made their way through the village, in all directions, piercing all the goblins in their path. The screams of agony quickly echoed far and wide.
The irrationality of his thoughts never crossed Azmodiel's mind, he let himself be submerged in his bloodlust, without worrying about his situation or his surroundings. He no longer just pierced the creatures in one movement, the feathers pounced to shred the creatures, leaving some as mounds of amorphous flesh. If it weren't for all that repressed madness, he would have noticed how unstable and artificial his emotions felt.
In reality, he might not have noticed even if he tried. After all, this was the first time in thousands of years that he interacted with other forms of life. Unfortunately for these forms of life, they were finding him at a bad time and in a very bad mood.
Azmodiel knew that devouring the other prisoners had altered his physical form and part of his sanity, something that worsened with the years of imprisonment. But he hadn't realized that certain negative aspects of his personality seemed to have been exaggerated and highlighted unnaturally.
First, it was that maddening rage, and now it was an irrational pride and vanity. Feelings that the original Azmodiel would never have had, much less to that extent. These new traits came from the beings Azmodiel had devoured, aspects that defined those existences, very specific concepts that knowing could help Azmodiel understand his new self better. However, he was too absorbed by the adrenaline of his situation to stop and contemplate his new self.
Unaware of all this, Azmodiel only felt the tremendous need to eradicate any trace left of these filthy creatures. With a barely perceptible signal from his hand, a series of dark purple flames formed in a circle around him. Then, they turned what was left of the goblins into nothing more than scattered ashes.
It wasn't until that moment, embraced by silence, where the only sound was the crackling of the flames, that Azmodiel found himself completely satisfied with his work. Coming out of his trance, he noticed slight movements in his surroundings, what he remembered as humans gradually appeared. Most were far from him, but eventually, he noticed the presence of two beings behind him that he also perceived as humans.
Being calmer after the disappearance of the goblins, Azmodiel adjusted a bit and began to assimilate his surroundings better, more calmly. At that moment, he reached the mental clarity necessary to find the presence of humans so close to him strange. Especially since at least one seemed unscathed and not at all intimidated by what they had just witnessed.
No matter from what angle it was analyzed, it was impossible for Azmodiel to overlook their existence, even in his madness. In any case, both humans should have been turned into mincemeat or ashes, just like the goblins. Since they were right behind him, the invoked flames should have incinerated them, and given their position, Azmodiel's wings should have hit them before the feathers detached. It was extremely illogical, almost impossible.
As Azmodiel looked at Alice, she did the same, her eyes seemed to be absorbed by a gravitational pull that forced her not to take her eyes off him. It was a very faint and fleeting feeling, but Azmodiel now remembered feeling a slight pull that changed the direction of his wings for a fraction of a second. It seemed that this momentary pull had made his wings avoid harming the girl.
For the first time in her life, Alice felt somewhat shy. She hurriedly stood up, shook the dust off her dress, and tried to fix her hair. She couldn't avoid her reaction but didn't quite understand why Azmodiel's presence caused something inside her, a different but equally magical spark. She couldn't help it either, leaving aside Azmodiel's peculiar traits, which came and went with his mood, his presence was the perfect combination of divine beauty and infernal seduction.
Alice also couldn't get out of her mind the way what she was convinced was an angel, just flapped his beautiful wings and saved her, instantly, from all the monsters that threatened her. Even the purple fire that surrounded her, that warmth was very different from that caused by the goblins, it seemed beautiful to Alice's eyes.
A true case of being blessed with ignorance. Alice didn't contemplate for a moment even the remote possibility that she should have died under the attacks of the supposed angel, who had no intention of saving her, didn't know who she was, and now looked at her with scrutiny.
However, Alice's distraction didn't last long. It would take more than Azmodiel's supernatural charms for the girl to forget to save her mother.
Alice took her eyes off Azmodiel to see the state of her mother. He took this as an offense and was preparing to attack the young girl when Alice's voice stopped him in his tracks, as if the chains tightened within his being, interrupting any act of cruelty Azmodiel could even think of exercising on her.
"Azmodiel, please save my mother."