anwhile, in another part of the castle, David hurried through the dimly lit corridors, his boots clicking against the stone floor. His sharp eyes darted left and right, scanning for any sign of followers. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint creaks of the old castle. Once he was certain the coast was clear, he exhaled a sigh of relief and reached his room.
Closing the door behind him, he plunged the room into complete darkness. He leaned against the door for a mont, his breathing uneven, before straightening. "Azrael," he called into the darkness, his voice low but urgent.
A sudden crimson glow illuminated the floor, revealing a large, intricately drawn magic circle. The air grew heavy with energy, and within monts, a figure erged from the circle. Azrael, a man clad in a magician’s attire, his robes adorned with arcane symbols, stepped forward with an air of dominance. His piercing eyes glinted in the red light, and a faint, unsettling smile played on his lips.
David’s frustration boiled over as he faced the magician. "You told the plan would work!" he shouted, his voice trembling with rage. "Then why is one of your lackeys rotting in prison, and the other one dead? You promised results, Azrael. I trusted you! Do you have any idea what will happen to if my father finds out? I’ll be executed—beheaded!"
Azrael’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, he chuckled softly, the sound low and nacing. Then, without warning, his laughter turned loud and uncontrollable, echoing around the room like a dark symphony. David flinched, his anger montarily replaced by unease.
Azrael abruptly stopped laughing, his face twisting into a mask of cold fury. His eyes narrowed, and the temperature in the room seed to drop. "Watch your tone, human," he said, his voice like a hiss of venom. "I tolerate your insolence because it amuses , but don’t forget who holds the power here. I can end your pathetic life with a flick of my hand. Do not test ."
David’s bravado crumbled under the weight of Azrael’s presence. The air felt suffocating, and the magician’s bloodlust was palpable. David stumbled back, his legs giving way as he fell to the floor. His voice shook as he stamred, "W-We made a deal... You promised to make king. You wouldn’t betray , would you? You’re not... using , are you?"
Azrael’s expression shifted, a sly smile spreading across his lips—a smile that David, in his desperation, didn’t notice. "Of course not, Your Majesty," Azrael said smoothly, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "Everything is going as planned. Losing Serah was unfortunate, yes, but it changes nothing. In fact..." He leaned closer, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. "It allows us to accelerate the process."
David’s fear gave way to a glimr of hope, his lips curling into a smile. His laughter began as a soft chuckle, growing louder and more manic. "Finally!" he exclaid, his eyes gleaming with ambition. "Finally, I’ll have the throne. No one will stop —not Rebecca, not Junior, not even Father!"
Azrael watched him with an amused smirk, his sharp eyes glinting with sothing unreadable. "Yes, Your Majesty," he said, his voice almost mocking. "Soon, the throne will be yours."
David’s laughter echoed through the room, his mind already envisioning his rise to power. Azrael’s smile widened, but it wasn’t one of celebration. Hidden behind his calm deanor was a dangerous glint, one that promised this deal was far from as simple as David believed.
Azrael raised a hand, cutting through David’s manic laughter. "Your Highness, since there’s nothing more to discuss," he said with a calm but icy smile, "I shall take my leave."
David straightened, forcing a grin despite the lingering unease in Azrael’s tone. "Oh, oh, you may take your leave," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "But don’t forget our deal."
Azrael’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with hidden amusent. "I won’t forget," he said smoothly. A sudden burst of flas engulfed him, and within seconds, he vanished, leaving David alone in the dark room, muttering to himself about his impending rise to power.
---
In the depths of the demon realm, Azrael materialized atop his ornate throne, the crimson flas flickering out as he crossed one leg over the other. The grand hall was shrouded in shadows, with eerie red light emanating from crystal chandeliers hanging above. Beside the throne stood a figure clad in a black and red maid outfit, her eyes glowing faintly with a demonic light. She bowed deeply as Azrael appeared.
"Welco back, my lord," she said, her voice soft yet filled with reverence.
Azrael rested his chin on his hand, his expression one of feigned exhaustion. "I’m glad to be back, Levia. I couldn’t stand another second of breathing the sa air as those filthy humans."
Levia’s brows furrowed in anger, and her voice turned cold. "Shall I kill the prince for you, my lord?" Her hand tightened around the hilt of a dagger hidden in her apron, her expression deadly serious.
Azrael chuckled, the sound resonating like a low growl. He waved a dismissive hand. "Not yet, Levia. That human, David, still has his uses. Killing him now would be... inefficient."
Levia hesitated, bowing her head again in submission. "Forgive , my lord, for overstepping."
Azrael rose from his throne and walked toward her, his dark robes trailing behind him. He placed a cold hand under her chin, lifting her face so her glowing eyes t his. "There’s nothing to forgive, Levia," he said with a smirk. "Your hatred for humans pleases . But rember, they are nothing more than livestock for us. Tools to be used and discarded." His lips curled into a grin. "And when the ti cos, David will serve his final purpose."
Levia’s lips curled into a cruel smile. "As you say, my lord," she said, her voice laced with satisfaction.
Azrael stepped back and let out a deep, booming laugh. Levia joined in, their laughter echoing through the grand hall like a chorus of malevolence. After a few monts, Azrael’s laughter subsided, and he brushed his robes with a look of disdain.
"Enough of that," Azrael said. "I need a bath. My body feels drenched with the stench of those vile creatures."
Levia straightened, her deanor imdiately professional. "Shall I prepare your bath with fresh human blood, my lord?"
Azrael’s grin returned. "Of course. Only the finest for . And one more thing..." He turned to her, his crimson eyes glinting with anticipation. "Make an audience with the Demon Lord. It’s ti to discuss our next move."
Levia bowed deeply. "Yes, my lord. I will ensure everything is prepared to your satisfaction." She turned and glided out of the hall, her movents as graceful as they were nacing.
Azrael watched her leave, his smirk never faltering. "Soon ,We Demons will rule the human race" he muttered to himself, his voice filled with dark promise.
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