[𝐁𝐋] 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐢𝐧𝐞

Once out of his bath, Azrail settled on his lavish bed with a velvet bathrobe bundled liberally around his graceful figure, his frail fingers tapping against a golden slab with crooked writing engraved on its glossy exterior. Gracing his index finger over the first word, Azrail sighed and rolled over, his exhausted gaze nonchalantly studying the sculpted ceilings as the shining slab lay next to his head, glistening with the limited glow that the night moon provided.

From what Azrail could remember; once he had gotten out of his bath, a flying creature floated up to him bearing a golden slab in its hands and presented it to him, notifying him that this is what would help him in carrying out his job as the new God of Death. Soon after delivering the blunt description, the flying creature disappeared, leaving a befuddled Azrail standing on the balcony ground with a massive golden item in his hands.

The floating creature notified him that on this slab was printed what he had to do and how he had to do it, leaving no room for misinterpreting anywhere. Or, at least, that is what the individual had thought. Contrary to the creature's belief, Azrail didn't know what to do because the sloppy handwriting was incomprehensible with the loops and swirls all being in one chaotic disharmony with one other, making it impossible to make out the writing.

Azrail wasn't even certain if it was composed in a dialect that he could decipher. Perhaps the flying fellow he had met an hour ago had lied to him. Groaning, Azrail buried his face with his hands, restless to start his job but uncertain of how to do it. If only the previous God of Death had proper handwriting!

What about all the souls awaiting to be reaped? What will happen now if he doesn't do his job on time? The entire world would go into turmoil more than it already was! The more Azrail thought about the possibilities, the more emboldened he was to learn the mystifying handwriting—but all of that went down under when not even Kallias could discern it.

"Who taught that blasted God of Death to write? I believe not even he could read his own handwriting with how misplaced it was! Though it may appear fascinating and dignified with each stroke uttering words of caution through this piece of stone—what good is all of that if it could only be heard!" Binding out of his bed Azrail wrapped his bathrobe closer to his body and trudged down the halls, a fixed yet angered look on his superbly chiseled face.

Quickly catching up to his god as he ran close behind him, Kallias grew worried. What was his god to do now?

Bearing his staff and golden slab in one hand each, Azrail stalked out of his castle and halted before the silver gates, his eyes steely and intense as he glared up at the starry sky. How dare the past God of Death leave him with such foolishness! You would suppose that if someone was to leave another in their place to handle with the resentments and weeping of others that they would at least consider lighting up their burdens—but no! For Azrail, that was not the case.

Striking down his staff upon the ground, Kallias watched as he observed his god plunge into the ground, sucking him wholly before closing once more, not even leaving a speck of his presence behind. As he was given no orders to follow or stay, Kallias simply remained where he was, not even daring to blink as he only peered down at where his god had last stood.

Oh, what kind of ruckus will his god stir? Whatever it was, Kallias was positive that he would encourage and uphold his god's plan, no matter how ludicrous or foolish it was. How could it be nonsensical or even ludicrous when it was the God of Death himself?