Azarim stared at the Entity as a tendril of shadow slithered up his neck. He took a single step forward—and the Entity responded. Without a word, it released Revel mid-air, letting him crash to the floor like discarded debris.
It stepped over Walas without pause, advancing toward Azarim.
The only sound that was relevant, throughout the vast room was the echo of their footsteps—one set slow and deliberate, the other impossibly light. Darkness veiled Azarim's side of the room, while the Entity's spectral wings bathed its half in pale, flickering light.
Walas groaned, dragging himself upright. He reached for his broken blade, fingers brushing along its jagged edge before using it like a cane. Limping toward the nearest pillar, he leaned heavily against it, eyes tracking the two figures drawing ever closer.
Revel gasped for breath, clutching at his chest as he coughed violently. Neither Azarim nor the Entity spared him a glance.
"Where did you gain this power?" the Entity asked, voice curling with disdain. "It reeks—foul and familiar."
Azarim gave no reply. He merely shifted to his side, eyes scanning for Walas and Revel.
"Still silent? Arrogant to the end. Frankly, I'm astonished you're still breathing. Is this world just tolerant of walking corpses?" The Entity let out a low snicker.
In the next breath, Azarim vanished into his own shadow—then reappeared before Revel.
The air thickened. Revel froze. Every instinct screamed at him to stay still. He didn't dare lift his head. He could feel it—death hovered inches away. He opened his mouth to speak, but a cold hand touched the nape of his neck.
Then, a word:
"Sunum."
Revel crumpled to the floor. His massive frame went slack. The mana that had clung to him like armor scattered like mist on a breeze.
Walas, watching from nearby, let out a faint laugh. He didn't move when Azarim appeared before him.
"Creshire really is something," Walas muttered, coughing blood into his hand. "In all my years, I've never seen anything like you—inside or outside a dungeon. That thing over there?" He glanced at the Entity. "Sure. Explainable. But you?" He wiped his mouth, blood streaking his palm. "They truly broke you, didn't they?"
Azarim placed his palm gently on Walas's head.
"Sunum."
Walas collapsed, his blade slipping free. Stillness claimed him.
"Putting them under a deep slumber? In their condition?" the Entity scoffed. "Didn't think you had it in you to be this sly. Weren't they your allies? You do know the consequences of that spell, don't you?"
Azarim turned slowly. His eyes were cold. Unreadable.
"Poor things. Seems I have more compassion for them than you ever did."
The Entity lunged—its hand slashing forward to seize his face.
But it caught nothing.
Azarim was gone. Walas's body, too, had vanished—devoured by shadow.
Momentum carried the Entity into a pillar, its wings cleaving through stone and rubble as it crashed.
When it looked up, Azarim now stood atop the staircase, flanked by the limp forms of Walas and Revel.
"Damn you," the Entity snarled. "I can't tell if you're saving them… or sending them to the grave yourself. What are you really after?"
"Shut the fuck up." Azarim cut in, voice like a blade. His hand clutched his head. "I had it with you rambling. I already have one that would not shut up inside mine, now I gotta listen to you? Do I owe you an explanation? "
The Entity laughed—sharp, mad, ringing with delight.
"That one beside you wasn't wrong. In all the millennia I've lived, I've never met a mortal quite like you. So proud, so drunk on your borrowed power that you flaunt it even before an Archon."
"Archon?" Azarim asked, narrowing his gaze.
"That's right, child. Not of this world, but I am one. And now you'll feel the weight of your arrogance. Yours has been meddling in mine for far too long, and I've come to return the favor." The Entity stepped slowly onto the carpet, drawing closer with every word. "She uses vessels to spy on mine. I use hers to watch and learn. You? You weren't chosen. You were caught in the crossfire. Don't flatter yourself."
It stopped just beneath the terrace, gazing up at Azarim.
"Still listening to those voices?" it mocked. "What a lovely little illness."
It broke into maniacal laughter.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Azarim roared, clutching his skull. His breath came in ragged bursts. Sweat beaded down his brow.
Then he looked up—eyes clear, voice low and venomous.
"If I actually listened to it…" he whispered, locking eyes with the Entity, "you would cease to be talking. I would have killed you far too quickly to enjoy it."
Kill. Kill. Kill.
That thing ruined everything—kill it. Make it suffer. Make it kneel, grovel into the dirt. Crush its skull. Rip out its guts. Feed it to the wolves. Let them taste divinity.
The voice whispered like rusted metal scraping bone. Over and over, it repeated itself—kill, kill, kill—each word echoing in cruel variations. The more Azarim resisted, the louder it became, until it was a scream vibrating through the marrow of his skull.
"Such arrogance," the Archon sneered, his face twisting unnaturally. "Give me your name, mortal."
Azarim didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped forward, pausing at the edge of the terrace. From above, he gazed down upon the creature—while it stared back, face tilted upward like a fallen god seeking judgment.
"Very well," the Entity sighed. "I am Samyaza, of the Watchers. Archon of Eden. And I vow—you will never again see the light of this world... or the next."
We will take everything back. Kill it. Now.
Azarim raised his hand and pointed at the Archon. In a blink, he vanished from the terrace—and reappeared an arm's length before the Entity's face.
Samyaza reacted instantly. Pleroma flared across his arm, shaping a translucent golden limb that whipped toward Azarim like a divine hammer.
But it struck only fog.
Azarim had already risen—hovering above.
He raised his palm, and spoke a word.
"Chania."
A black chain burst from his hand, snaking downward toward Samyaza's back.
The Archon spun, wings unfurling to shield himself. But the chain passed through the feathers like smoke, then veered—aiming straight for his forehead.
Samyaza caught the chain just in time, fingers locking around the dark links.
He snarled—and yanked.
But both the chain and Azarim vanished like mist.
Gone.
"An illusion?" Samyaza muttered.
A shadowy figure of Azarim stepped into view. The Archon swung without hesitation—but his blade met only air. The wraith slipped past him untouched, vanishing with nothing more than an ink-like smear across his palm.
Then another rose on his left. One more on his right. Two more behind.
Shadows closed in—silent phantoms, circling him like vultures.
With a beat of his wings, Samyaza lashed out. Light and feathers tore through the apparitions, scattering black mist into the air.
He grinned.
"All this dramatics—and for what? With all that smugness, is this really the best you can offer?"
But then he saw it.
His wings.
The radiance within them was dimming—tainted, slow but sure, by Azarim's creeping mana. The shadows weren't mere distractions. He had used them on purpose.
His grin vanished.
With a snarl, Samyaza folded his wings inward and unleashed a shockwave of divine mana.
Blinding light erupted, swallowing the chamber.
The shadows burst like smoke in a gale—gone in an instant.
Silence fell.
Ashen remnants drifted in the air—wisps of Azarim's magic, too stubborn to die. Some clung to Samyaza's wings like soot, refusing to fall.
And there he was—Azarim.
Standing by the door, his hand still raised. Cold eyes fixed on the Archon.
"Can I ask you a question?" he said quietly. "When I was a child, I watched commoners kneel to royals… royals to their king. And when my king fell, even he knelt to an Archon."
His palm began to glow—not with light, but with a black, searing hue. A blaze without flame.
"For all your claims of grandeur," Azarim continued, voice low and steady, "if what you say is true… that you are an Archon—do you kneel?"
Samyaza chuckled, eyes narrowing as a faint grin touched his lips.
"That arrogance of yours," he said, "truly is something."
"It might be," Azarim replied coldly. "But if you would not answer me…"
He stepped forward, breath slow and steady.
"Then I will find out for myself."
With a flick of his hand, Azarim hurled the black flame forward—a dark fireball that shed no light, only heat and pressure, like condensed wrath.
The residual mana in the air responded—igniting into floating orbs, which spiraled and twisted until they collapsed into a vortex. From it, thin black chains emerged like living tendrils, racing toward Samyaza.
The Archon reacted fast, trying to shield himself with his wings—but the chains moved faster. They wrapped around him, thin at first, then thickening, dragging down with invisible weight. Some pierced the marble beneath him, anchoring him in place.
He clicked his tongue.
The chains tightened, binding his wings, pinning his arms. He pulled, tore, shattered some of them—but they regenerated instantly, unrelenting.
The flame neared.
Samyaza raised one trembling arm, conjuring a radiant wall of light. Then another. And another. Layer upon layer of divine defense formed before him.
The dark flame collided.
The first shield cracked.
The second shattered.
The third groaned, then split down the middle.
By the fourth, the lightless fire had lost its form—fizzling out into smoke.
Samyaza stood, breath ragged, sweat streaking his brow.
He smiled.
But then, the floor beneath him shifted.
From his own shadow, something rose.
Azarim.
No longer an illusion—no longer smoke.
He emerged clad in darkness, tendrils of shadow armor wrapping tight across his limbs. Silent. Focused.
His hand clenched into a fist.
And before Samyaza could move—
Azarim struck.
A single blow to the jaw, driven by everything that came before.
Samyaza staggered.
His legs buckled under the weight of the blow—and the weight of something more.
One knee dropped.
With a low thud, the Archon knelt.
Not in reverence.
Not in surrender.
But in pain.
Before Azarim.
Azarim stepped forward, the shadows still coiled around his form like armor, his gaze locked downward.
A breath passed.
Then he spoke, voice cold and quiet:
"Now I see my answer."