Azrael followed the demon ahead of him through the labyrinthine underground passages, maintaining the perfect silence of a subordinate awaiting orders. The flickering torches mounted along the ceiling cast dancing shadows across the rough-hewn stone walls, creating an atmosphere of perpetual twilight that seemed to permeate every corner of their subterranean refuge.
The pig spirit, for that's clearly what his guide was, judging by the distinctive snout and bristling hair, moved with the confident stride of someone intimately familiar with these winding corridors. Azrael cataloged every turn and landmark they passed, already planning potential escape routes should his deception be discovered.
After what felt like an eternity of silent navigation through the underground maze, his guide finally halted before an unremarkable wooden door set into the stone wall. The entrance was so ordinary it could have belonged to any servant's quarters, making it perfect camouflage for whatever clandestine activities took place beyond.
"Knock, knock, knock."
The pig spirit's knuckles rapped against the wood in a precise pattern, three short taps that carried the weight of established protocol.
"Who approaches?" came a muffled voice from within, the question delivered with the wariness of someone accustomed to dangerous visitors.
"The task is completed," the pig spirit replied in a tone of professional satisfaction.
Without further ceremony, the door swung open to reveal another demon whose appearance suggested he served as gatekeeper for whatever authority awaited them inside.
"Enter quickly," the doorkeeper urged with obvious impatience. "The master grows weary of waiting."
Azrael followed his guide through the threshold and found himself momentarily stunned by what lay beyond. Instead of the crude chamber he'd expected, they had entered an elegantly appointed garden courtyard that wouldn't have looked out of place in an aristocrat's estate.
Manicured flowerbeds lined gravel pathways that wound between ornamental trees and decorative fountains. The air carried the subtle fragrance of carefully tended blooms, while strategically placed lanterns provided warm, welcoming illumination that banished the oppressive darkness of the surrounding tunnels.
These wealthy demons certainly know how to maintain their lifestyle even in exile, Azrael thought with grudging admiration for their resourcefulness.
The pig spirit showed no inclination to pause and admire their surroundings, instead maintaining his brisk pace toward what appeared to be the garden's central structure. Azrael hurried to keep up, unwilling to draw attention through any sign of hesitation or uncertainty.
Their destination proved to be an impressive study whose tall windows looked out over the immaculate gardens. The room beyond radiated scholarly authority through its towering bookshelves, elegant furniture, and the kind of academic atmosphere that spoke of serious intellectual pursuits.
"Master, we have returned as commanded," the pig spirit announced in respectful tones, his voice pitched to carry through the heavy wooden door without seeming presumptuous.
"Enter," came the immediate response from within.
Pushing open the study door, Azrael prepared himself to face whatever demon lord or ancient authority figure had orchestrated tonight's assassination. Instead, he found himself staring at someone who appeared barely old enough to shave, let alone command assassination squads.
The young demon seated behind the massive desk possessed an almost childlike appearance that would have been endearing under different circumstances. However, the calculating gleam in his narrow eyes suggested a mind far more mature and dangerous than his youthful features implied.
Azrael's tactical instincts immediately triggered warning signals. Something about this entire situation felt fundamentally wrong, the elegant surroundings, the juvenile mastermind, the casual brutality hidden beneath civilized appearances.
Setting aside the book he'd been reading, the young demon fixed both visitors with an intense stare that seemed to peer directly into their souls. "Report the evening's activities in complete detail."
The pig spirit, apparently known as Cole, based on their earlier conversation, dropped to one knee in a display of formal submission. "The assignment was completed with absolute discretion, young master. No evidence remains that could implicate the Zhu family in tonight's activities."
Azrael remained standing slightly behind his companion, head respectfully lowered while his enhanced hearing cataloged every nuance of their exchange. The mention of family politics suggested this was far more complex than simple prisoner elimination.
A satisfied smile flickered across the young demon's features as he processed this confirmation. However, his expression quickly shifted to one of calculated concern.
"Unfortunately, recent developments have created additional complications that require immediate resolution," he said with the tone of someone accustomed to making life-and-death decisions. "Cole, Tyrel, I find myself requiring your continued dedication to family interests."
Both demons immediately straightened with obvious eagerness to demonstrate their loyalty.
"Command us as you will, young master!" Cole declared with fervent enthusiasm. "The Zhu family's honor is worth any sacrifice!"
Following his companion's lead, Azrael adopted an equally zealous tone. "I pledge my life to serve the family's needs without question or hesitation!"
The young demon's smile widened with predatory satisfaction at their declarations. "Excellent. Your loyalty shall be rewarded appropriately."
With casual indifference, he reached into his desk and withdrew two gleaming daggers, their blades reflecting the study's lamplight with ominous beauty. The weapons struck the floor with metallic chimes that seemed to echo through the suddenly silent chamber.
"Please die for the family's sake," he commanded with the same tone he might have used to request tea service.
The study fell into absolute silence as the implications of that order settled over its occupants like a funeral shroud.
Azrael felt his muscles tense as Pride prepared for the violence that seemed inevitable. But before he could act on his instincts, movement from his companion stopped him cold.
Cole had bent forward without hesitation, his hand closing around one of the offered daggers with grim determination. There was no protest, no attempt at negotiation, just the mechanical compliance of someone whose loyalty transcended self-preservation.
He's actually going to do it, Azrael realized with mounting horror. He's going to commit suicide on command.
The blade pierced Cole's chest with a wet sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the oppressive quiet. Dark blood immediately began seeping through his clothing as he stared at his young master with something approaching religious ecstasy.
"It is... my greatest honor... to die for your glory," Cole gasped between increasingly labored breaths, each word requiring tremendous effort as his life ebbed away.
Within moments, his body crumpled to the study floor in a spreading pool of crimson, leaving Azrael alone to face whatever test this represented.
The young demon's attention turned to him with expectant patience, those narrow eyes studying his reaction with the clinical interest of a scientist observing experimental subjects.
"What about you, Tyrel?" he asked with deceptive gentleness. "Do you share your companion's dedication to family service?"
Azrael stared down at the remaining dagger, his mind racing through the tactical implications of this impossible situation. Refusing the order would expose his deception immediately, triggering combat against unknown odds in an environment where escape routes were severely limited.
But accepting suicide to maintain his cover seemed like the ultimate pyrrhic victory, preserving his identity by destroying the person who possessed it.
After several heartbeats of internal struggle, Azrael made his choice. The mission's success took precedence over personal safety, and sometimes the greatest risks yielded the most valuable intelligence.
Reaching down with practiced calm, he grasped the dagger's handle and drove it toward his chest with convincing force. However, Pride's defensive capabilities ensured the blade encountered unexpected resistance, deflecting the strike just enough to avoid vital organs while creating a convincing display of blood and apparent trauma.
Collapsing beside Cole's corpse, Azrael allowed his breathing to become increasingly shallow while maintaining the appearance of someone dying from a mortal wound.
Satisfied with both demonstrations of loyalty, the young demon turned toward the window and called out with casual authority. "Summon Steward Zhu immediately. I require his assistance with a disposal matter."
Within minutes, the study door opened to admit a middle-aged demon whose bearing suggested both competence and long experience in positions of authority. His gaze swept the chamber's bloody tableau with professional detachment, noting the twin corpses without visible surprise or distress.
"Young master," he said with careful neutrality, "you summoned me?"
The young demon gestured dismissively at the bodies scattered across his study floor. "Please arrange disposal of these remains, Steward Zhu. Exercise appropriate discretion to prevent unwanted attention."
The steward's expression tightened almost imperceptibly as he processed this request. "Might I inquire about the circumstances that necessitated such... decisive action?"
Cold authority replaced the young demon's previous casual demeanor as he fixed the steward with a warning stare. "You would do well to remember your position before asking questions beyond your station."
Rather than retreating under this verbal assault, the middle-aged demon straightened with quiet dignity. "I regret that I cannot comply with such instructions without proper context, young master."
Fury flickered across the young demon's childish features as his authority was challenged so directly. "Colezhi, you forget yourself! You are nothing more than a servant in this household, what gives you the presumption to question my commands?!"
The steward, apparently named Colezhi, remained unmoved by this outburst, his weathered features displaying the kind of calm that came from years of weathering political storms.
Recognizing that his intimidation tactics had failed, the young demon forced himself to regain composure through visible effort. When he spoke again, his tone carried grudging acknowledgment of practical necessities.
Through gritted teeth, he provided a condensed version of the evening's events, explaining how the assassination of the prison detainees had been deemed necessary to prevent potential security breaches.
Colezhi's expression cycled through several emotions as he absorbed this explanation, surprise, concern, and finally the resigned acceptance of someone who'd witnessed similar political machinations countless times before.
After releasing a heavy sigh that spoke volumes about his assessment of the situation, the steward moved to examine both corpses with professional thoroughness. His practiced movements suggested extensive experience with such grim tasks.
"The young master's orders shall be carried out with complete discretion," he finally announced, though his tone carried undertones of deep dissatisfaction. "No trace of tonight's activities will remain."
Raising his voice to address the household servants, Colezhi called out, "Seth, Troy, attend me immediately."
Two nervous demons entered the study, their expressions shifting to barely concealed terror as they processed the scene before them. Despite their obvious fear, they moved to obey when the steward gestured toward the bodies.
"Assist me in removing these remains," Colezhi commanded with brisk efficiency. "Maintain absolute silence regarding what you witness here."
The servants nodded frantically while struggling to lift Azrael and Cole's corpse, their trembling hands making the task far more difficult than it should have been.
"I shall handle the necessary arrangements personally, young master," Colezhi informed his employer with professional courtesy that bordered on coldness.
Without waiting for acknowledgment, the steward departed the study with his grim cargo, leaving the young demon alone with his political machinations.
Behind them, the spoiled aristocrat stared at Colezhi's retreating figure with undisguised resentment. "That arrogant old pig grows too presumptuous," he muttered with barely suppressed rage. "Perhaps it's time for Father to consider replacing him permanently."
Deep within a secluded grove that served as the underground complex's unofficial cemetery, Colezhi supervised the excavation of what would serve as the night's final resting place for multiple unfortunate souls.
"Your service to the household is noted and appreciated," he told the two servants with genuine warmth, his previous coldness replaced by grandfatherly kindness.
"Thank you for your trust, Steward Zhu," they replied with obvious relief, clearly grateful to have completed such dangerous duties without personal consequences.
However, their relief proved tragically premature.
Without warning, Colezhi's powerful arms snapped both servants' necks with surgical precision, their bodies crumpling to the forest floor before they could even comprehend what was happening.
"Unfortunately, the nature of tonight's secrets demands absolute discretion," he explained to their unhearing corpses with genuine regret. "No living witnesses can be permitted to survive."
Standing alone among the scattered bodies, Colezhi finally allowed his carefully maintained facade to crack, revealing the fury and frustration that had been building throughout the evening.
"These incompetent fools will destroy everything the family has built," he snarled, his voice echoing through the silent trees. "Their stupidity and arrogance will be the death of us all!"
His rage centered on the political dynamics that had elevated such unsuitable leaders to positions of authority within their organization.
"If the old master and his sons hadn't perished during the surface conflicts, we wouldn't be subjected to these idiotic children and their power games," he continued with growing bitterness.
The weight of accumulated frustration finally overwhelmed his self-control. Colezhi's enhanced foot struck the earth with devastating force, instantly creating a crater suitable for disposing of multiple bodies without trace.
Just as he turned to begin depositing the corpses in their improvised grave, an impossible voice spoke from behind him with casual menace.
"Perhaps you could elaborate on these family politics," came a hoarse whisper that seemed to emerge from the shadows themselves. "I find myself quite curious about your... domestic situation."
Terror flooded through Colezhi's system as he spun toward the source of that otherworldly voice. Where Tyrel's corpse should have been lying motionless, he instead found himself staring at a towering nightmare of writhing black and red biomass.
The creature's alien features radiated predatory intelligence that transcended normal biological limitations, while its massive frame suggested physical capabilities that could crush stone without effort.
"Impossible," Colezhi breathed, his mind struggling to process evidence that contradicted everything he understood about death and resurrection.
A sound that might have been laughter emerged from the monster's throat, though the harmonics carried undertones of inhuman fusion that made his skin crawl.
"Many things are possible when one possesses the proper tools," Azrael replied with dark amusement, enjoying the steward's obvious terror.
Before Colezhi could react with either flight or combat, massive claws closed around his skull with crushing force. The pressure was carefully calibrated, enough to prevent escape or resistance, but insufficient to cause immediate death.
"Pride, you know what to do," Azrael commanded his symbiotic partner with satisfaction.
Black and red liquid flowed into Colezhi's body through every available opening, the invasion process accompanied by wet, organic sounds that spoke of fundamental biological restructuring.
Genetic module acquired: [Razor Fangs]
[Razor Fangs]: Enables the generation of supernaturally sharp dental weapons capable of penetrating most defensive materials.
As Pride's extraction process concluded, Azrael felt the steward's accumulated knowledge and experience flowing through their shared consciousness. The symbiote's capabilities had provided him with far more than simple genetic material, Colezhi's memories, mannerisms, and social connections were now available for exploitation.
Under the dead steward's horrified gaze, Azrael's enhanced form began the familiar process of biological restructuring. Bones shifted, muscles redistributed, and facial features realigned themselves until a perfect replica of Colezhi stood in the moonlit grove.
The transformation was so complete that even close family members would be unable to detect the deception without supernatural assistance.
"Thank you for your unwitting contribution to my mission," Azrael told the genuine Colezhi's corpse with mock gratitude. "Your position will serve my purposes admirably."
After systematically collecting materials from his accumulated victims, Black Iron-level [Half-Human Pig] (Blue) x3 and Bronze-level [Half-Human Pig] (Blue), Azrael began the methodical disposal of evidence that would cover his infiltration.
The crater Colezhi had created served perfectly for concealing the bodies, while his enhanced strength made quick work of filling the improvised grave with sufficient earth to prevent discovery.
Standing in the silent grove with his deception complete, Azrael reflected on the evening's unexpected success. What had begun as a desperate gamble to maintain his cover had evolved into an opportunity for much deeper penetration of the demons' command structure.
As the underground complex's steward, he would have access to information and resources that no mere guard or servant could obtain. The political tensions Colezhi had revealed suggested opportunities for manipulation that could serve his mission objectives far better than direct combat.
Sometimes the best battles are won through patience rather than violence, he mused as he made his way back toward the residential district.
The hunt was entering a new phase, one where intelligence and infiltration would prove more valuable than raw power. And thanks to Pride's remarkable capabilities, Azrael was perfectly positioned to exploit whatever opportunities the demons' internal conflicts might provide.
The game had become significantly more complex, but also far more promising for achieving his ultimate objectives.