The skies over Dreadspire Fortress burned red with divine fire. The mountain crumbled beneath the force of the gods' wrath, and the world watched as the final bastion of darkness fell.
In the throne room, a man cloaked in obsidian robes sat alone.
Blood soaked the stones beneath his feet. The bodies of his trusted lieutenants—those he had once called family—lay in twisted ruin. He had killed them himself. One by one.
"Traitors."
His voice, low and thunderous, echoed across the collapsing hall. Cracks split the walls, and golden lightning tore through the skies outside. The gods had sent their judgment. And the Demon King, Azrael, would not survive it.
But he smiled.
Because death… was not the end.
As the divine spear struck him, impaling his chest and erupting his body in white-gold flames, Azrael opened his soul to the void. Not to escape—no, he knew better—but to seed his return.
"Let them think they've won."
The world faded. Light vanished. Pain ended.
And then—
"Wake up, slave."
A fist struck his jaw. His eyes snapped open.
Cold mud. Iron shackles. The stench of rot and human waste.
He gasped—not from pain, but from realization.
"This… is not the void."
He looked down at his body. Frail. Covered in scars. Bones protruding under pale, malnourished skin. A collar burned with divine sigils clung to his neck like a curse.
But his eyes gleamed. Not with fear—but amusement.
He laughed.
A slow, hollow sound.
The guard who hit him staggered back.
"Are you mad?"
Azrael—no, the soul of Azrael reborn in a slave's body—answered calmly.
"No. Merely awake."
A sound rang in his mind.
Ding!
[Shadow System initializing…]
Host confirmed: Soul Signature - Azrael the Forsaken
Version: Fragmented
Core Function: Fear Conversion
Status: Locked
Task: Sow fear. Rebuild power. Return to the throne.
A grin curled on his lips.
So it had worked.
He spent the day in chains, forced to mine soulstone ore in the depths of a collapsed ruin. Other slaves coughed blood. Some cried. None spoke to him again.
He did not mind.
He was remembering. Calculating.
When night came and the others slept, he sat awake beneath the shadow of a broken pillar, eyes glowing faintly.
A whisper echoed in his mind:
Would you like to begin sowing fear?
[Yes] [No]
He chuckled.
"Yes."
[System Task Activated: Break the Will of the Overseer]
Reward: Fear Points +100 | Unlock: Shadow Veil (Lv.1)
The next day, Overseer Bran screamed.
He clawed at his face, sobbing, seeing hallucinations of black hounds ripping his flesh. No one else saw a thing. Within hours, he was raving, begging the gods for mercy.
By nightfall, Bran slit his own throat with a rusted pickaxe.
The other slaves stared at the corpse.
Azrael sat silently, his expression calm.
Ding!
[Fear Points: +100]
[Shadow Veil (Lv.1) unlocked]
Cloak yourself from divine perception for 10 seconds.
Progress.
One life. One seed of terror.
The path had begun.
End of Chapter 1