Belphegor's stroll was interrupted by a sudden, piercing pain that shot through his chest, draining his stamina. He clutched at his chest, his eyes narrowing as he growled in anger. The pain was familiar, a sharp reminder of Michael's strike that had brought him to his knees. His knee buckled, and he stumbled, one hand grasping for support.
Kael, who had been following Belphegor from a distance, watched with interest as the fallen figure struggled to regain his footing. Kael's eyes widened in surprise as Belphegor collapsed onto one knee, his face twisted in pain. As passersby approached to offer assistance, Kael expected Belphegor to accept their help, but instead, his aura flared, sending the would-be helpers scurrying away. Kael couldn't help but shake his head in amusement at Belphegor's prickly demeanor.
"Don't touch me," Belphegor snarled, his voice low and menacing. With a Herculean effort, Belphegor pushed himself to his feet, his chest still throbbing with pain. He scanned his surroundings, his gaze settling on a nearby alleyway that seemed quieter than the bustling streets. He stumbled towards it, seeking a calm area to collect himself and assess the situation.
Kael followed Belphegor into the alley, his eyes fixed on the fallen figure's back. As Belphegor leaned against the wall, his chest heaving with exertion, Kael leaned against a nearby building, watching him with a curious gaze.
The pain still lingered, a constant reminder of Belphegor's vulnerability. Kael's eyes narrowed, his interest in Belphegor piqued. He decided to stick around and observe Belphegor's movements, curious about what had brought him to this state.
Belphegor's eyes blazed with frustration as he questioned the System. "I thought you said I was revived by the Almighty, why do I still feel pain from the battle with Michael?" he snarled, his voice low and menacing.
The System's response was calm and measured. "The Almighty gave you a second chance and healed you of every injury you sustained from the Battle of Elysium's Reckoning. However, the residual effects of Michael's attack, Lux Aeterna's Requiem, still linger. The pain you're feeling is a remnant of that divine strike."
Belphegor's face twisted in a mixture of anger and curiosity. "What do you mean it's still affecting me?"
The System's voice remained detached. "The pain from Lux Aeterna's Requiem will fade as you reclaim your lost powers. It's as if your own strength is gradually dispelling the residual energy of the attack. The more of your power you recover, the less you'll feel the pain."
Belphegor's gaze turned inward, his expression darkening with hatred. "That self-righteous hypocrite... Michael thinks he can mark me with his precious light? I'll show him the true meaning of power."
The quiet of the alleyway was disrupted by a sudden commotion, a cacophony of rough voices and scuffling footsteps that grated on Belphegor's nerves. He growled, his eyes narrowing as he turned towards the source of the noise. It was coming from a nearby alley, just a short distance away.
The scene unfolded like a dark tableau: a group of bandits, their faces twisted with cruel intent, surrounded a handful of locals who had unwittingly stumbled into the alley. The bandits were armed to the teeth, their swords and daggers glinting in the fading light of day. The locals, oblivious to the danger, walked into the trap, their faces etched with confusion and fear as they realized their predicament.
One of the bandits, a burly man with a scar above his left eyebrow, sneered at the locals. "Well, well, well, what do we got here? A bunch of rich folk think they can just walk through our territory without paying the toll?" He spat on the ground, his eyes gleaming with malice.
The locals cowered, trying to back away, but the bandits closed in, their movements menacing. The air was thick with tension, the silence punctuated only by the sound of ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city.
The burly man, his face twisted in a snarl, raised his fist to strike one of the youths, who cowered in fear. But before the blow could land, the burly man's fist was caught in mid-air. He was blown off his feet by a powerful force that sent him crashing into the nearby wall.
The other bandits turned, confused, and saw their companion crumpled on the ground. One of them took a step forward, but was swiftly grabbed by the head with a speed that seemed almost supernatural. The sound of shattering bone and cartilage filled the air as the bandit's body went limp.
The remaining bandits tried to flee, but were met with swift and merciless efficiency. A swift kick sent one bandit flying into the wall, while a precise strike to the neck dropped another. The last bandit tried to stab, but his wrist was caught and twisted with a vicious snap, ending his cries.
As the last bandit fell, the locals stared in awe, their faces pale with shock and gratitude. The figure responsible for the carnage leaned against the wall, his eyes closed, his chest still heaving slightly, Belphegor turned to the locals, his expression unreadable.
The locals, still shaken, stared at him with gratitude and fear. One of them took a step forward, eyes shining with tears. "Thank you, sir... thank you so much!"
Belphegor ignored them, his gaze swept the area, his expression disdainful. "Weak," he muttered, his voice dripping with contempt before he turned to leave.
The locals watched as he walked back to his spot, his movements silent and purposeful. As he leaned against the wall, Kael, who had been observing from the shadows, took a step forward, his gaze fixed intently on Belphegor. His eyes seemed to hold a calculating interest, as if sizing up Belphegor's abilities.