Akuma's words lingered in the air—"We might actually be weak."
Shinchū let out a deep, resonant laugh, his massive form shaking with amusement. "You're not that weak," he mused, "but you seem to only know the first form of Sun Breathing."
Akuma's eyes narrowed. "How do you know about Sun Breathing?"
Shinchū's mandibles twitched into a smirk. "I once met a man who wielded it. A warrior unlike any other."
A flicker of realization crossed Akuma's mind. Yoriichi… It has to be him.
Before he could question further, Shinchū raised a clawed hand, and with a gesture, a massive scroll materialized before them. "This is the contract," he explained. "Sign it with your blood, and you will gain access to my power."
Without hesitation, both Akuma and Lazarus bit into their thumbs, pressing them against the parchment. Their names burned into the scroll in crimson ink, sealing the pact.
Shinchū nodded in satisfaction. "The ceremony must be completed. Until then, you both will remain in my domain."
Before they could react, thick mist swirled around them. A wave of dizziness crashed over Akuma and Lazarus, and within seconds, their bodies slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Darkness. Silence.
Then, a voice, deep and commanding, rang through the void.
"Come out."
Akuma stirred slightly, his breathing shallow. Ten seconds passed. Then, something unnatural happened.
A black mist slithered out of Akuma's mouth, swirling and coalescing into the form of a man. His wings were black like a fallen angel, stretching ominously behind him. He stood tall and lean, his light skin almost ghostly against the shifting darkness. His gray eyes glowed with an eerie intelligence, framed by messy black hair with strands falling over his face. A dark stubble lined his chin, adding to his rugged appearance.
He wore a dark red samue, over which he draped a black haori with a red diamond pattern along the bottom. Traditional Japanese wooden sandals clacked softly against the stone as he took a step forward. Atop his head sat a striped dark red and black bucket hat, casting a shadow over his unsettling gaze.
Shinchū's wings twitched as he studied the figure. "Who are you?"
The man smirked, his voice smooth yet edged with something sinister. "I am Azazel."
Shinchū scoffed, his many eyes narrowing. "No, you are not. The real Azazel is masquerading as the God of the Bible while the true God is absent. But you… What are you? I sense a contract between you and Akuma, but it's…parasitic. A parasite clinging to a host."
The false Azazel chuckled, unbothered by the accusation. "You focus on me, but what about the Leviathan lurking within that other boy?"
Shinchū turned his gaze toward Lazarus, his expression unreadable. "It is protecting him. But you? You are something else entirely."
The air grew heavy with tension as the three figures stood in the darkness, the weight of hidden truths pressing down on them.
And the ceremony was just beginning.