The Goddess of Seduction reclined on her throne, her golden eyes fixed on the scrying mirror. A sly smirk played on her lips as she observed the intruder. "So, he dares to step into my realm," she murmured, her voice laced with disdain. "A creature like him dares to cause a disturbance here? Let him try—I'll remind him of his insignificance."
Meanwhile, the radiant halls of the celestial realm echoed with the steady march of warriors. The Goddess of seduction stood tall, her commanding presence rallying her followers. "The balance of realms must be preserved," she declared. "Prepare yourselves for what may come."
In the heart of the shadowed palace, the Goddess of Seduction's young daughter sat in quiet play. Only seven years old, she was a picture of innocence amid the turmoil brewing beyond the palace walls. Silver hair framed her delicate face as she hummed softly, arranging crystal figurines into a delicate pattern. Unaware of the impending chaos, she giggled, her joy undisturbed by the decay creeping ever closer to her mother's domain.
The powerful warriors, clad in celestial armor and wielding divine weapons, marched forth with unwavering determination. They had received their orders from the Goddess of Seduction , and their mission was clear: eliminate the threat that had dared to disrupt the balance. Their footsteps echoed like thunder, resonating with the resolve to protect their realms.
Azrael stood motionless in the heart of a lush, vibrant land. This realm was alive with boundless greenery—trees swayed gently in the wind, flowers bloomed in a kaleidoscope of colors, and the air was rich with the scent of life itself. But none of it stirred him. His gaze remained indifferent, unaffected by the beauty surrounding him.
Yet, as he stood there, the life around him began to falter. Grass withered, its bright green fading to gray before crumbling into dust. The trees nearest to him lost their leaves, and the once-bright flowers drooped, their colors bleeding away into lifelessness. His very presence sapped the vitality of the realm, and the decay crept outward, consuming everything in its path.
As the warriors approached, they could see the devastation ahead, and their leader raised a hand to halt the advance. "So, this is his power..." one muttered, gripping their weapon tighter. But despite the growing unease, they pressed forward, their resolve unshaken.
Azrael turned his head toward the warriors, their celestial weapons glowing with divine energy, each blade and spear glinting like shards of heaven. The warriors froze for a brief moment, revulsion spreading across their faces as they took in Azrael's visage.
"What an abomination," one muttered, disgust evident in his voice. "We've never seen anything like this. A creature so vile—its mouth sealed shut, no eyes, just black voids where they should be. That pale white skin, that hair... and yet it walks in a human shape. Truly disgusting."
Another warrior stepped forward, his grip on his weapon tightening as he silenced the group. "Enough talk. This thing doesn't belong in any realm. It must be destroyed. No more hesitation."
With that, they moved in perfect harmony, their divine training evident as their strikes synchronized, creating a symphony of destruction. Swords slashed, spears thrust, and waves of energy erupted from their blows, cutting through the air. The sheer force of their combined attack tore into the realm, leaving a massive scar across the once-vibrant greenery.
Dust and debris rose into the air, obscuring their view of Azrael. The warriors stood at the ready, weapons poised, waiting to see if their assault had vanquished the creature. The silence that followed was heavy, almost suffocating, as they braced for what would come next.
Azrael stood motionless, unfazed by the destructive strike. Not a single strand of his pale white hair moved as the dust settled around him. His dark sockets turned toward the warriors, and without a sound, he began walking forward.
Before the warriors could react, Azrael disappeared—a blur that their eyes couldn't follow. Suddenly, he reappeared before one of them, his presence chilling and suffocating. The warrior instinctively moved, driving his divine weapon into Azrael's chest. The blade pierced through, glowing with divine energy, but Azrael remained unmoved, standing still as though the weapon was nothing more than an inconvenience.
A cold, bony hand shot out, seizing the warrior's arms. The warrior's confidence turned to horror as Azrael's grip tightened, and with a sickening tear, he ripped the arms from their sockets. Blood sprayed into the air, the warrior's screams echoing across the desolate field.
Azrael tilted his head, as if studying his prey, before extending a single finger. He pierced the warrior's throat, his finger sliding through flesh and bone with unnatural ease. The screams became strangled gurgles as Azrael dragged his finger downward, splitting the body apart with surgical precision.
When he reached the gap between the ribs, he paused momentarily. Gripping the exposed bones, Azrael tore them apart with brutal strength, ripping the warrior's chest wide open. The lifeless body fell in pieces to the ground as the other warriors stood frozen, their divine weapons trembling in their hands.
Azrael vanished in an instant, reappearing before another warrior like a phantom born from shadow. His presence was suffocating, and the hoarse, grating voice that escaped his sealed mouth sent shivers down the warrior's spine. "Tell me," Azrael rasped, his words heavy with malice. "Where is your goddess?"
The warrior's grip on his weapon faltered, but he stood firm, defiance burning in his eyes. "We will not—"
Before he could finish, Azrael's hand plunged into his chest with effortless precision. The sound of cracking ribs echoed through the air as Azrael tore out the warrior's still-beating heart. Blood splattered across the ground, yet the warrior remained standing, gasping in shock, his body refusing to collapse.
Azrael raised the heart, observing it with detached curiosity before turning his empty sockets back to the warrior. "Do you know what my unique ability is?" he asked, his voice cold and deliberate. "It is to torture anyone in any way I desire... and ensure they do not die until I allow it."
The warrior's eyes widened in terror as pain coursed through his body, a pain that refused to end, refused to grant him release. Azrael's grip on his life was absolute, his power twisting the very essence of mortality. The other warriors could only watch, their courage faltering as they realized the hopelessness of their situation.
Azrael turned his gaze to the last warrior standing, his empty sockets emanating an unseen pressure that made the air around him grow heavy. Slowly, he walked toward the trembling figure, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Will you tell me where your goddess is?"
The warrior, though shaking, managed to summon his resolve. "I will ne—"
Before the words could leave his mouth, black chains erupted from the ground, binding the warrior in place. The chains coiled tightly around his body like living serpents, pulling with relentless force. With a sickening sound, the chains began to move in opposite directions, tearing through flesh and bone. Agonized screams filled the air as the warrior's body was ripped apart piece by piece until nothing remained.
Azrael watched without flinching, his voice calm and cold. "This is something I enjoy."
Turning back to the heart he still held, his focus returned to the broken warrior kneeling before him. The heart pulsed in his grasp, each beat sending unbearable pain through the warrior's body. The fallen soldier clutched his chest, gasping and writhing as it felt like hundreds of thousands of needles pierced his very soul. The torment was endless, unrelenting, and inescapable.
Azrael tilted his head slightly, observing the warrior with a detached curiosity. "Do you feel it now? The futility of your defiance? Speak, and i might give you a quick death."