This world was dead.
And it welcomed him.
Azrael's gaze swept the desolation. His face hardened. No fear, only focus. He stepped forward, boots crunching on brittle earth.
There, amidst the ruin, he saw a gauntlet. Black, metallic, its length reaching the elbow. The fingers curved into hooked claws, each tip glimmering faintly with crimson light.
As he bent down, it trembled.
A low whisper echoed in his ears. So faint it was almost beneath hearing.
Put me on…
Azrael froze. His eyes flicked across the horizon. Nothing. No movement. Only silence. He'd never heard of anyone hearing voices when awakening.
He straightened, lips curling in disdain.
"Not today."
Turning away, he walked. Confidence was one thing. Blind stupidity another.
But the whisper changed.
It became a scream.
A piercing, inhuman scream that split the dead world apart. The gauntlet ripped itself from the ground and flew at him. Azrael staggered, raising his arms, but it was too late. The metal engulfed him, far too large, swallowing his forearm whole.
And then it began to shrink.
The constriction was merciless, unrelenting. Fire seared through his bones, joints bending unnaturally beneath the pressure. He screamed, the sound raw and jagged, echoing across the empty land. Blood seeped between metal and flesh. His once-strong hands turned into mangled ruin. Still, the gauntlet tightened.
Panic lanced through him. He clawed at the metal, desperate, but it clung like a predator.
Then he heard another scream. Not from the gauntlet, but beyond.
The horizon blackened. A black fog writhed and surged closer. From within came another shriek. Then another. Until ten voices, each distinct, howled across the sky.
Azrael's mask of composure cracked. He did the first thing that came across his mind, he ran.
But the darkness was faster. A chain shot out from the black fog, its hook gleaming, its links lined with thorns. It coiled around his neck. The thorns dug in as it dragged him violently backward into the fog. He screamed, tears streaking down his face as the fog devoured him.
Inside, shapes emerged.
Nine silhouettes, suspended in the air: a shield, a katana, a scythe, armor, twin daggers, a greatsword, a bo staff, twin pistols, and the chain.
The gauntlet, torn from his arm, floated upward and joined them.
Whispers rose, many voices, ancient and alien. He could not understand, but their council seemed to be arguing before they finally reached an agreement. The weapons turned as one, focusing on him.
Then the chain and gauntlet shot forward, merging into the space between his eyebrows.
Darkness claimed him.
*****
The Waking World
A day had passed. Malik, Liyana, Rio, Rhea, Lucien, and the noble Theo had awakened, their Arcanum revealed. Yet Azrael remained motionless, his body showing no sign of emergence.
The Duke ordered none to leave. And so, they waited.
By the second day, unease grew. By the third, instructors checked for signs of life, finding only shallow, steady breaths. This was wrong. Those who failed their awakening returned empty-handed within a day.
At last, Deverill spoke, his tone ironclad.
"Everyone leave. Those who just awakened, remain."
Among the dismissed, despair took root. One student who failed the awakening was found hanging in the stables that evening, his body to be returned to his family the next day.
Deverill turned to the survivors. His gaze cut across them like a blade. "What did you awaken?"
Malik stepped forward first. "My lord, my Arcanum is called Harden." As he spoke, his skin darkened, hardening into black iron.
"The memory inheritance said the higher my sequence, the more my body will change, until it completely like silver. At that stage, I should be indestructible."
The Duke's expression did not shift, but he nodded once.
Next was Liyana. She raised her open palm toward a potted plant. Slowly, deliberately, she closed her palm. The plant withered before their eyes, dead the moment her fist tightened. Breathing heavily, she wiped sweat from her brow. "My Arcanum is Moisture. I can manipulate water, but only within living beings. Normal water is beyond me."
This time the Duke's eyes gleamed. Such a powe was useful. He inclined his head.
Lucien followed. His words were brief. "My Arcanum is Aeon. I can freeze time within a space, for a moment." He sat without ceremony, eyes shut. The Duke's lips curved into a rare smile.
Theo stood trembling. "M-my Arcanum is Mire." He stretched his hand,after sometime the earth beneath him softened into mud the size of a man's head. Then he collapsed, unconscious.
The Duke's smile evaporated. He looked upon Theo with disgust.
On seeing this, Rio and Liyana burst into laughter stopping only when their eyes met, as if shocked that the shared the same cruel humor. Both quickly looked away.
Rhea stepped forward. Removing her shoes, she pressed her bare feet into the soil. Grass sprouted, lengthening into vines under her will. As she sat she, added, " My arcanum name is verdant, I can control plants."
The Duke nodded,pleasantly surprised.
Finally, Rio stood. His demeanor sharpened, deadly serious. He clapped once, the sound exploding outward in a concussive blast that rustled leaves from nearby branches.
"My Arcanum is Echo. I can amplify sound into force. And I can render attacks useless by nullifying all the sound in them. Though for now, I can only reduce and not completely nullify."
The Duke's smile returned.
"Good," he said at last. "You may return to your homes. The Academy opens in a month, be here by then. You all will be going together. At that time I'll select my three students. Those who wish to remain may stay."
Liyana and Malik seemed reluctant to leave Azrael but after sometime the left. The decided to retire to the stables. Planning to visit him every day. They bowed and departed.
Ten Days Later
The tenth day came.
In the crimson void, Azrael sat cross-legged, eight weapons circling him. A black light pulsed from the space between his brows. His eyes opened.
He looked at the weapons, smiling faintly.
"You enjoyed torturing me, didn't you?"
Some hummed in apology. Others glared, daring him to test them.
Azrael chuckled and stood, and began walking out of the black fog. At the threshold, he looked back. "I'll see you soon."
This time, all eight hummed in unison, they seemed almost sentient and that was not normal. But he didn't seem to mind it.
He stepped forward. Light engulfed him.
Warmth.
The first sensation that greeted him was the grass against his palms, the sun spilling across his face. Azrael's eyelids fluttered open. The void was gone, but the memory of it weighed on his soul.
Then he heard a gasp.
Liyana sat nearby, chessboard laid across a flat stone. She'd been playing alone. Her wide eyes locked onto him, trembling with disbelief. In the next instant she sprinted to him and nearly bowled him over.
"You're awake! You, idiot!" Her voice cracked between laughter and tears as she clung to him.
For a moment, Azrael let himself laugh too, his arms wrapping around her. Her warmth anchored him in a way the void never could. But when they finally pulled apart, his smile was already fading, his thoughts elsewhere.
"You've been asleep for ten days, I was worried."
Azrael froze, "ten?"
She nodded while dragging him beneath the shade where her game lay waiting. With a grin that masked her worry, she gestured for him to sit. "Come on. One match. You owe me after making me wait ten days."
He smirked faintly. "Fine."
The game began. But her words were quicker than her moves. "I thought you were gone, Az. Everyone did. Malik kept saying you'd wake eventually, but he stopped coming after the third day."
Azrael's expression didn't change, but his next move was sharper, decisive. "... He couldn't wait for me to wake up?"
"He said something about wasting time, and needing to train" she muttered, looking down.
"Tch." His disdain was clear. "Some friend."
Silence stretched. Only the soft sound of chess pieces moving filled the space. Then
"Checkmate."
Azrael blinked down at the board. She was right. He'd lost. Liyana's laugh broke the tension, light and teasing. "Ten days asleep and you still play like a rookie."
For the first time since waking, he smiled with genuine warmth. "I'll get you next time."
"You can try, crazy boy." She stood, brushing herself off, then extended a hand to him.
He didn't take it. He just stared at it a beat too long, eyes unreadable, before finally rising on his own.
Azrael dusted himself off, then turned to her. "Liyana," his voice was low, steady. "You awakened an Arcanum, right?"
She blinked at the sudden question, then nodded.
A slow smile spread across his lips, though his eyes stayed sharp, glinting with something darker. "Then from now on…" He leaned in slightly, almost conspiratorial. "…let's do whatever we want."
For a moment she just studied him, expression caught between curiosity and unease. Then she gave a small shrug, forcing a laugh. "Crazy boy."
But Azrael's smile lingered, carved deep into his face. It wasn't a joke. Not to him.
As they walked, she glanced at him, "You… did awaken, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"What's its name?"
Azrael stopped, the sunlight spilling across his dark skin. He turned to her, eyes bright. A black fire smoldered within them, endless and consuming, as if it devoured everything that made one human and leaving only hunger behind.
He raised a hand, tapping the space between his brows. His voice was calm, but it carried a weight that pressed against the air itself.
"The name of my Arcanum is…"
His gaze sharpened, the fire in his eyes flaring as his grin widened.
"Legion"
Liyana's breath caught. For a moment, she saw something in him that wasn't the Az she knew. A shadow clinging to his words.
And though she smiled to mask her unease, deep down she felt it, The boy who had returned wasn't the same one who had fallen asleep.