Prologue
The heavens trembled under the weight of judgment, and the earth shuddered in awe as the dust of divine battle finally settled.
Among broken mountains and scorched landscapes lay the vanquished—the God of Darkness, a being feared by mortals and divinities alike.
His name had become a curse whispered in reverence, a reminder of rebellion against celestial tyranny.
For countless ages, he had dared to challenge the gods’ dominion, striking down those he deemed unworthy of the title.
But at long last, the relentless one had fallen.
The gods and demi-gods exhaled, their collective relief palpable.
For years, they had lived under the shadow of his wrath, fearing his unyielding thirst for justice against what he called
"the corruption of the divine."
To him, they were nothing more than self-appointed tyrants, intoxicated by their own power, hiding behind masks of benevolence.
Yet, punishment awaited even a god’s soul.
In the afterglow of his defeat, the supreme gods, arbiters of fate and destiny, decreed his sentence: a soul cast down from its throne of eternal power and condemned to inhabit the frail body of a mortal.
Azrael—the rogue god, the slayer of divine hypocrisy—was stripped of his power and sealed into the fragile, fallible body of a human.
As the echo of his past faded, the weight of mortality crushed him.
He could feel the chains of humanity pulling him down, his godly essence bound in a form too weak to wield even a fraction of what he once commanded.
Rage simmered in his heart, but he was bound by a force he could not yet comprehend.
The path back to power would be torturous, requiring more than he had ever needed as a god.
But in the deepest recesses of his new human heart, a promise burned.
They thought him defeated.
They believed their punishment would be his end.
Yet they knew nothing of Azrael’s resolve. Even in chains, even stripped bare, he would find a way.
Piece by piece, he would reclaim what was taken from him.
"I am coming for you all!"
His voice roared within his mind, unyielding as the darkness he commanded.
And with that vow, Azrael’s journey began anew, on a mortal path woven with vengeance and boundless ambition, his spirit hungering to reclaim not only his power but the very heavens that dared to bring him to his knees.
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