That sweet, strangely familiar voice, filled with concern, thundered like the roar of thunder in Azmodiel's ears. It was that voice, he was sure. The girl's voice was the same voice he had heard before being absorbed by that grimoire page.
Azmodiel had not come to the mortal world on his own, no. As much as he wanted to boast about freeing himself by his own hand, that was not the case. The reality is that he had been summoned, apparently by that voice. Seeing the mortal world again and having to deal with those creatures had scattered his priorities, like a crystal smashed against the ground.
A memory came to his mind, the chains that dragged him to this plane penetrating deep into his being and fusing with him, establishing the confines of his new prison, although it was not clear to him what it was.
Then he remembered another emotion, one that, even in his years of freedom, he did not believe he was capable of having. A deep fear was born in Azmodiel's heart, and as if trying to corroborate his deepest fears, like a scavenger on the prowl, he sought the source of his new confinement. A powerful and irresistible compulsion flooded his mind. He then felt that his will was tied to another.
The impulse, between submission and obedience, was tens of times more intense than what he felt when receiving orders from his father. At least in those, he had a tiny margin of opinion, he could express himself or even refuse based on his convictions. But now Azmodiel felt compelled to comply, and it was not an immortal or powerful entity he had to obey, but the words of the young human who was kneeling, defenseless, in front of him. Azmodiel felt shame and ridicule. Subjugated to the will of a human, of all creatures.
Azmodiel's pride fueled the flames of his anger to unprecedented levels. He took on a more grotesque and imposing form, appearing as a creature completely out of place in all planes, both mortal and immortal. He felt that something inside him had broken. This was even worse than being chained in that cave; he was chained to the whims of a mere mortal girl.
Azmodiel... He, who was once known as "The Devouring Light." He, who consumed those supreme lords, being the only survivor of the maximum prison of the underworld, is now bound to a girl!
His psyche lost any sign of rationality, the echoes of his mind turned into nothing more than crazed beastly growls clamoring for the girl's death. Meanwhile, Alice was too focused on her mother to notice that both the being's face and shape were becoming grotesque and distorted, continuing with his thoughts of disdain, one could only imagine the chaos occurring within his mind as he approached the young girl.
"It would be so easy," thought Azmodiel, as he regained serenity and with it his form more pleasing to the eye, "to hold the girl in my arms, pull her until her body splits in two, spilling her blood and organs onto the ground," he extended his arms toward the fragile human, "as she loses her life in agony, I regain my freedom."
But the golden chains that now plagued Azmodiel's soul squeezed deep into his being, stopping any action he could take and any desire he could have at that moment. His will did not matter, his body did not respond to him. Ignoring both Azmodiel's will and madness, it seemed that the girl's orders were final.
The girl's voice, tinged with desperation, called out to him, "Azmodiel, do something." At that moment his body regained movement, as if he had received permission. The being intensified the purple glow in his eyes and confirming his terror, saw what he was looking for but did not want to find. He saw the golden chains, which had bound him for thousands of years, extending from within him. They were no longer solid, not in a physical form but rather streams of energy, visible only through special means, however, that did not make them any less resistant than before.
Finally, Azmodiel had to accept the truth. Swallowing hard, he followed with his gaze the play of golden glows in the shape of chains to where the other end connected. These extended in front of him, to the human's chest, or so it seemed at first glance, but with greater concentration, he noticed that in her he could see a hidden grimoire, the culprit of his new hell.
Seeing that Azmodiel was not helping her mother, Alice began to panic, not knowing what else to do, she could only plead again. "Azmodiel, please save my mother." The being confirmed something upon hearing the girl's plea again, he felt that compulsion bend his will. He was still a prisoner and that girl was nothing more than the new form of his prison.
Although he felt obliged to obey, the girl could not ask him for the impossible. The reason Azmodiel had not yet obeyed what he interpreted as orders from his new "master" was not because he could resist. It was for something sadder and inevitable, something that even Azmodiel could not reverse, he was simply incapable of fulfilling the order.
Azmodiel had partially confirmed this fact when he used his purple vision. With it, he could see beyond the mortal veil, not only to find the chains but also all the life currents on the planet. He could see Alice's rainbow connection to this current, but inside Ana there was nothing. There was no essence, no connection, no color.
Azmodiel was thinking of a thousand things at once, but having regained much of his sanity, he opted for a smarter option than just charging at the girl like a vicious beast. With a combination of elegance and seduction, which naturally came to him for some reason, he leaned toward the girl and spoke to her for the first time.
"I am very sorry, little one. There is nothing I can do for that woman." Azmodiel paused for a second, trying to find the right words. "She has returned to the world's flow, she is in a better place now." He swallowed a bit of his pride before expressing the last part, "Under the warm light of the mother goddess." Talking about his mother produced a whirlwind of emotions he didn't want to deal with at that moment; handling the current situation came first, before reliving his past traumas.
Fear, pain, and denial flooded Alice's young heart. The feeling of loss completely overshadowed that she had awakened a grimoire. The dream had turned into a nightmare; the person she most wanted to help lay inert in her arms. No matter that Akash had touched her, it was too late, it was late.
The notion of losing her mother was too much for the little one. She had been through a small hell, but the bad news kept piling up. In the last few minutes, cries for help and pain could be heard in the distance, but Alice became deaf. Even though she now had the means to help, the reason for her kindness had left this world, and for a moment, the young girl could only be somewhat selfish. Even the presence of Azmodiel, the supposed angel she had summoned, did not console Alice's heart.
Azmodiel's words could have been comforting if they hadn't gone unnoticed by the dazed girl. Alice was still standing next to her mother's corpse, and no one could change that, apparently not even an angel. Unable to take more of the world's cruelty, Alice fainted.
Azmodiel blinked with slight surprise to see the young girl collapse to the ground, honestly expecting an internal urge to catch her, but he only watched her fall. He didn't expect the human girl to die on her own, somewhat disappointing, another satisfaction that fate had taken from him, but the result was the same.
Although it took him a second to realize that the girl had not died, unfortunately, she had only fainted. But it had been a long time since he interacted with humans, so he had to be sure.
Of course, he felt no sympathy for the girl, on the contrary, he found the whole affair quite convenient. "It might not be so bad, at least now I am back in the mortal world. There is so much to see here, so much to experience, so much to do. Besides, it's still to be seen if I am truly helpless before this girl." He then decided to approach to experiment a bit with her.
A little girl, human, fragile... Azmodiel did not consider her a threat, possibly a nuisance. However, lifting the young girl off the ground sealed his fate. One can only imagine his surprise when he felt a stabbing sensation envelop him the moment he touched her.
As if every cell in his body turned against him, he clung to the young girl as if she were his greatest treasure. The internal struggle within Azmodiel could be seen from a distance. His face distorting, shifting from monstrous to humanoid features, and visibly pulsing veins like snakes crawling across his body. The amount of pain he was feeling was exorbitant, more than any mortal could endure.
In a desperate attempt to regain control of his body, he clenched his jaw so tightly that his teeth seemed about to break. Nevertheless, he clung fiercely to his sanity, invoking his vision of the mystical plane once again, he focused on finding within him what was hurting him.
Nothing but absolute terror was what he felt when he saw his interior, where the golden chains that now embraced his soul began to show marks of glowing red incandescence. Azmodiel had never seen them do anything beyond restricting him; the chains were enough to seal him in that prison, but now there were sigils... Was this a pact? As these symbols formed, he felt a sudden feeling of weakness and vulnerability. He saw the chains stop changing, and that red glow in the symbols became dim.
For a second, Azmodiel thought the ritual they were witnessing had ended. But the chains had not finished mocking him. With a burst of light and shadows, the chains, which spread like vines within his soul, erupted like a geyser from his chest. The very core of his existence was being extended outside his body through the chains that ascended toward the stars and suddenly plummeted at a speed imperceptible to any other being.
Perhaps the pain left him stunned, or perhaps, even for this ancient being, he was witnessing something for the first time. Whatever the reason, Azmodiel had no time to react to what he was seeing. When the chains began to descend, Azmodiel saw something similar happening with the girl; chains of a more silvery tone emerged from her body, seeking something.
When his chains met those coming from Alice's core, he felt it, that connection, that binding force between them solidified. Not just figuratively, he felt an infernal heat sensation on his right wrist. A different pain that stood out from what he was already feeling.
Looking at his wrist, he noticed the runes burning from within, making their way to this plane through him. Leaving a physical reminder of his fate in the form of a golden bracelet now adorning his wrist.
The rain of Akash dust created upon contact floated in a vortex around both. Slowly, the life dust found its way to Alice's right hand, and with a gentle touch, it became a ring on her ring finger.
As unbreakable and omnipotent as the chains that kept him in that prison for millennia, Azmodiel now found himself on the losing side of a master-servant pact. The bond between them was now eternal and immutable, and deep down, he knew it.