"My name is Azazel."The Depravita's voice was calm and candid, its tone devoid of malice yet carrying a weight that pressed into the air around them.
Cain narrowed his eyes. Even with The Flow guiding his senses, he could not pierce Azazel's emotions or intentions. The man's body language, his stance, his breathing—nothing gave anything away. It was as though he had been carved from stone, immune to Cain's scrutiny.
In the end, Cain drew a slow breath and chose to speak. Conversation, after all, sometimes revealed more than silence.
"My name is Cain Laurifer."
"I know."
Azazel nodded immediately. "I have been informed about you, Primordial, and I have also assimilated the memories of my vessel."
At this point, the Depravita paused, his gaze drifting over Cain from head to toe, studying him as if taking measurements of something unseen. His head tilted slightly.