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Chapter 110 - Jason Vs Azrael

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Azrael stood over Jason's fallen body like a monument carved from judgment itself. His scythe rested at his side, its dark flame guttering softly, as though even the fire had finished its task. The arena was silent. Not the tense kind of silence before a storm, but the quiet that followed an execution. Final. Absolute.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, sensing the air around him rather than looking. Space folded with a faint ripple.

Ramiel and Duma emerged from the distortion, their wings half unfurled, their expressions unreadable as ever.

Ramiel's gaze dropped to Jason's body.

A pause.

Then he inhaled and spoke, voice echoing across the endless arena.

"Winner…"

The word never finished.

His eyes flicked back to the corpse.

Something was wrong.

In the next instant both angels vanished, retreating without another sound, like chess pieces snatched off the board mid move.

Azrael disappeared as well, reappearing several meters away, staring.

For the first time since the beginning of this tournament, the Angel of Death looked… uncertain.

"How…?" he muttered.

Jason's fingers twitched.

A small movement.

Then another.

Like a puppet remembering it had strings.

His chest rose sharply with air. Muscles tightened. Bones cracked back into place.

Slowly, casually, Jason pushed himself upright.

Dust slid off his shoulders as he rolled his neck once, twice, like a man waking from an afternoon nap instead of returning from the afterlife.

"Well… well… well…"

He stretched his arms with a lazy grin.

"I'm back."

He glanced down at his own hands, flexing his fingers, feeling the weight of flesh, the rhythm of blood, the stubborn beat of a heart that refused to quit.

"Damn… feels great."

Azrael's calm finally shattered.

"THAT BITCH!" he roared, voice tearing through the sky. "HOW DARE SHE!"

Jason scratched the back of his head, half amused.

"Oh? Looks like you figured it out." He smirked. "Not too bad, honestly. So… you're Azrael, huh? The Angel of Death."

His eyes sharpened.

"But tell me something… what's an Angel of Death worth… in a world where Death herself walks around and does the job better?"

"Don't speak of what you know nothing about, you damn fool!" Azrael snarled, flames erupting from his body. "I am DEATH! It is me! Me alone! She is an obstacle! I was meant to guide the end! I was chosen! And I was forsaken!"

His voice cracked with something ugly. Not rage.

Jealousy.

Centuries of it.

Jason waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Tragic backstory. Very dramatic. Love the energy. But it doesn't really matter to me."

He rolled his shoulders and stepped forward.

"Sorry about earlier. I'll admit it. I was scared. Of death."

A slow grin spread across his face, sharp and fearless.

"But now… she's with me."

His cursed energy began to stir, different this time. Colder. Quieter. Like the hush of a graveyard at midnight.

"She is me."

The air itself felt thinner.

"And I am her."

"YOU WILL NEVER STEAL THAT TITLE FROM ME!" Azrael screamed.

Light exploded from his wings. Black flames devoured the ground.

Jason lowered his stance, fingers twitching, deathly energy coiling around his body like an unseen cloak.

For a heartbeat, the arena froze.

Then the demons surrounding the endless coliseum erupted into deafening roars, howls, and laughter, the sound crashing like waves against stone.

Death versus Death.

Avatar versus Reaper.

And in the space between one breath and the next, both figures vanished.

The battle resumed.

....

"Domain Expansion… Death Shrine."

Jason's voice was quiet, almost casual, yet the moment the words left his lips, the world folded like wet paper.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Not the kind born from the absence of light, but the kind that felt carved out of existence itself. A hollow. A blank. Like reality had been scooped away with a spoon and only a void-shell remained.

Azrael's boots touched ground that did not crunch, did not echo. It simply existed without texture or sound.

He looked around, frowning.

This wasn't the same domain he had burned away earlier.

This place felt… wrong.

Behind Jason stood a shrine, but not the red Buddhist structure from before. This one was pitch black, its wood drinking in what little light existed. Ankhs were planted around it like grave markers, hundreds of them, thousands, jutting from the soil in uneven rows.

The land stretched forever as a cemetery.

Endless graves.

Fresh.

Old.

Forgotten.

And right behind Azrael…

A single grave stood open.

Dirt piled to the side.

A shovel stabbed into the mound.

Waiting.

For him.

Azrael stared at it.

Then he laughed.

"Heh… HAHAHAHAHA!"

The sound cracked the silence.

"You covet my death? My death? You?" His eyes burned. "A mere human! HOW DARE YOU!"

His scythe erupted with dark flame and he swung it in a wide arc, infernal fire roaring toward Jason like a tidal wave.

Jason didn't move.

He raised one hand.

"Cleave."

The flame split cleanly down the center.

Like paper.

Like nothing.

"You said death can't be cut, right?" Jason said calmly.

Stone rose beneath his feet, forming an ankh platform that lifted him into the air. He hovered above the graves like a judge overlooking a battlefield.

"And you were right."

His eyes sharpened.

"But you forgot something important."

His finger pointed straight at Azrael.

"You aren't Death. You're just an employee."

A faint smile curved his lips.

"An aspect."

The cursed energy around him changed.

It wasn't violent like Sukuna's.

It wasn't savage or chaotic.

It was quiet.

Cold.

Certain.

Like the last page of a book already written.

"Die."

The cleave launched.

Not dimensional.

Not soul-targeting.

Not anything Sukuna or Yuji had ever used.

This was new.

Original.

A blade forged from the concept of True Death itself.

The authority Death had lent him.

The same quiet force that guided souls away without struggle.

Azrael reacted on instinct. No technique. No strategy. Just fear.

His wings wrapped around him and flames exploded outward as a shield.

But what could fire do… against the end of all things?

The cleave passed through.

Effortlessly.

His wings split.

His body followed.

Azrael fell apart mid-guard, severed cleanly in two, curled up like a frightened child.

The Angel of Death.

Afraid of dying.

As his vision faded, he saw her.

Death of the Endless standing in the distance, hands in her jacket pockets, watching with those warm, knowing eyes.

"You… you… always you…" he rasped.

Then nothing.

Silence reclaimed him.

Jason exhaled slowly.

"So that's that…"

But before he could relax, something stirred.

A red glow leaked out of Azrael's corpse like smoke from a cracked furnace.

Jason tensed instantly.

The energy rose and twisted, shaping itself into a face.

A devilish caricature.

Sharp grin.

Curved horns.

A child's drawing of evil made real.

It smiled.

"What? You still refuse to die…" Jason muttered.

The face chuckled. "No. That one is dead. I am different. Death cannot take what is not…"

Its grin widened.

"I sense something in you. Darkness. Ambition. Want me to remove it? Make a deal. I'll give you kingship over demons. True rule."

Jason stared at it flatly. "A pact with a devil? Yeah, I'm not that stupid."

His eyes narrowed.

"So you're Satan."

The face laughed louder.

"Indeed. The Demon God Satan. God thought I was too powerful. Said I threatened him."

"You think you threaten God?" Jason scoffed.

"Why not?" it hissed. "Why does he hold everything? Why not me? Why not you? Together, we could"

"Oh, I get it now," Jason cut in. "You don't fight. You whisper. You rot people from the inside. That what you did to Azrael?"

The devil smiled.

"More or less. So… what do you say?"

"Hard pass."

"Shame," it said lightly. "It would be tragic if you died next round."

"Yeah," Jason replied. "Would be."

The red face lingered a second longer, studying him, then laughed softly.

"No luck for you, Jason Anderson. Only death."

It dissolved into smoke.

The domain cracked.

Graves faded.

The shrine vanished.

Reality returned like a curtain lifting.

Jason stood alone over Azrael's corpse.

Space rippled.

Ramiel and Duma appeared once more.

This time there was no hesitation.

Ramiel looked at the body.

Then at Jason.

His voice rang across Hell.

"Winner… Jason Anderson."

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If you Like this story! Check out my other story ! Shadow Monarch in Danmachi! 

AND

If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patreon at

"https://www.patreon.com/Riadooo"

You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !

More Chapters