Azazeal didn’t even glance at them. They were nothing more than expendable tools, to be discarded the moment they ceased to be useful. Even the shadow generals were remembered only by their numbers by him, let alone the Rulers he so much despised.
There was no need to even assign them numbers—they really didn’t deserve that.
He questioned coldly.
"Understood?"
Valance nodded, followed by the others, their eyes completely blank, with nothing.
None dared even to think of resisting, let alone fighting back. This was the power of absolute supremacy. Trembling, they all scrambled out of the clearing, vanishing into the mist to leave the realm and carry out his order to destroy their own world.
Azazeal spoke again after they were all gone, his voice deep, low, and merciless.
"As a reward, I will grant you a death that’s less painful—only... if I remember you."
A cold, empty laugh followed—soft, mirthless, and utterly cruel.
His obsidian eyes narrowed as he slowly glanced to the left, finally tearing his gaze away from the door Nathaniel faded into.
One by one, all his remaining bodies were waking up. Yes—every single one of them.
All were real. There was no longer anything false among them, not after he had evenly divided his soul into seven big fragments.
Now, they had all reached the End.
Not just one—every single fragment.
Each had endured the same torment, the same pain. They had watched their flesh torn apart, their souls consumed, only for that same darkness, which had done it, to forge new, indestructible bodies around the hollowness that remained of their souls.
After enduring it all, they now stood at the pinnacle of power. This was the power he had so desperately sought for such a long time to take his revenge on everything and everyone who had made him like this.
So why...
"Why do I feel empty?"
Now, even the struggle to grow stronger—the desperate urge that had kept him going—was gone. What else was left? Nothing.
Azazeal touched another tiny snowflake, humming quietly to himself in a daze. He opened his mouth, only to close it again, before speaking to all his other bodies.
"If... even he failed, then let’s end it all."
"Let’s disappear. There’s no need to continue existing. It will be just tiring."
"After all, there’s no one even waiting."
"No one."
For a brief moment, a flicker of emotion passed through his detached gaze. When his body was being reformed, all of his old memories—even the ones he had forgotten—surged to the forefront like flashbacks, tearing open scars that had never healed.
A smile curved his lips as he stared into empty air, as though gazing at someone.
"This is the monster I’ve become. If you could see me now, you would probably regret hiding me to save me that day."
"That’s the kind you I remember."
"But I am not sorry."
"And for that, I am sorry."
He closed his eyes as he felt one of his bodies doing something interesting.
Simultaneously, in a distant part of the Layer of Ancients, far from the clearing, a bloodied hand gripped the leg of the tall robed figure standing opposite him.
Cassian begged.
"Make me stronger."
He screamed.
"I know you can! I can feel it!"
"I will give you my everything!"
"So, please..."
"Make me stronger."
His body was battered, completely devoid of strength. Yet the instant he saw Azazeal emerging from the darkness, he recognized him—the man who could face many Rulers head-on, the man who had grown stronger by embracing darkness itself. If he offered his soul, surely he would gain something—anything that could help him, anything that could make him feel a little less broken.
Unlike Valance and the other Rulers, who had lost their minds to the Celestial aura enveloping Azazeal, Cassian was far too desperate to lose himself to anything else.
The only thought keeping him conscious, despite injuries that had reached his soul, was the drive to do something—anything—to defeat Nathaniel. Just enough to land a hit. A single hit. Even if he couldn’t kill him in the end, he would be satisfied—just once. Otherwise, he would completely fall apart.
Yet the owner of the obsidian eyes was merciless as he gazed down at him with nothing in his dark eyes. Azazeal blinked. His tone sympathetic, yet words cutting.
"Why should I?"
He had just stepped out of the darkness when Cassian had boldly grabbed his leg despite the vast darkness enveloping his body. This man did not even seem to care that his fingers were melting after coming into contact with him. Azazeal shook his hand away without hesitation, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.
"A pity. He sent you to another part of the Layer of Ancients to save you, even going so far as to use his... essence—and yet here you are, begging the darkness itself."
There was a smile in his glowing obsidian eyes that Cassian completely failed to see as he lost his reason to the cruel rejection.
"No, no—please. I’ll do anything! Just give me a little more power. Just a bit. Please... please. I beg you."
Azazeal’s voice deepened.
"Anything?"
Cassian nodded desperately. To him, Azazeal seemed like a perfectly crafted sculpture—stunningly otherworldly, yet radiating the most terrifying darkness.
"Anything!"
"Very well. I will give you power. In return, how about you dig out the souls of all you know in this realm and give them to me? Then I will give you even more power."
"Do you agree?"
Cassian froze. Azazeal’s words crashed over him like a relentless tide. Dig out the souls of everyone he knew in this realm?
That meant he would have to kill Zami, Ares, Silver, everyone he had ever called a friend, his companions, the few who had taught him to smile again. To gain power, he would have to betray those closest to him, those... who trusted him implicitly.
Cassian’s eyes grew even more bloodshot as he choked a laugh. His tears mingled with the blood, trickling down his cheeks.
He lowered his head and whispered in a trembling voice, quiet and agonizing.
"Why... why is this so difficult..."
"I just want to kill the one who made me like this... who took everything from me."