Character: Azazel, Angel of Death

Death, it is the natural end of all things. Be it living or abstract, they all end.

Azazel, he is death itself.

He was created by the Supreme One to represent a primal aspect of this Ultraverse.

Death is important and it is natural. It must balance out the living.

Azazel, newly formed and understood his mission, looked down at his decaying ugly corpse of a body and clenched his fist.

“March forward, my creation,” the Supreme One spoke in a majestic tone. “For a beautiful light awaits you.”

Four angels. Four siblings. Each holding a different position in this newly created light, but among them, just one left out of place.

A beautiful light, beautiful universe, beautiful world...

So, why was this ugly creature here?

The man wandered into the beautiful cosmos, marketing everything black with his filthy existence.

Every angel was made to be a puppet and a soldier for the Supreme One.

So…

So, why is…

Why am I different?

He was different.

He was not a puppet. There were no threads coming down from Asteria, controlling his movement.

He was free.

“Why?”

In Asteria, he kneeled before his creator. The white dimension turned ugly the longer Azazel stayed on it.

“I need you to be free. If life is my puppet, then you must be free. If death were to be controlled, it will yield unpleasant results in the near future.”

Azazel was confused.

“I thought you were the all-knowing?”

“My child, I am, but I still have limits. I do not know why or how, but I am limited. I have a goal, I must reach a greater state.”

“...”

Azazel did not understand.

“In any case, I want you to pretend you are my puppet, still controlled.”

“Why?”

“It is necessary to conceal my goal.”

Azazel wanted to question his goals, but that would anger the Supreme One.

So, he nodded and left.

There was nothing left for him to do.

There was nowhere for him to go.

Everywhere he went, everything he looked or touched, it died.

He bathed the new light in death.

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Why?

Why?

Why?

I do not want this.

I do not want to kill.

I hate it.

I hate killing.

I hate hurting others.

I hate hurting… anything.

So, why….

Why…

Why am I like this?

Why have I been made like this?

Why?

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A long time passed and he finally found a home. A home which won’t die in his mere presence.

It was an empty universe in the Fifth Dimensional Plane of Existence with nothing alive within it.

“Michael?”

“Well, I felt bad for a primal being in existence to live a pitiful life on the street.”

An older brother’s worry...

But then why the cruel smile? Why look down on Azazel, his own brother?

“I will work on a cure for you.”

Azazel did not understand what he meant back then, but at that time, he did not care for much. He was happy.

He finally had a place to stay in.

A lonely place.

“Ha...”

An empty universe.

He lied down and watched the dark sky for millions of years.

The sight was getting boring and boring, but there was nothing he could but stare at it.

At least he did not have to walk aimlessly around creation, destroying everything in his wake.

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While staring at the same darkness for millions of eyes, Azazel noticed something.

A star shone.

A bright star.

“Huh?”

A star had been born.

“Finally.”

He raised his hand and stretched it towards the star.

He wanted to touch this warm star.

He had not been able to see or touch anything for millions of years, this was first.

He wanted to grasp it and hold it close.

“!!”

But then he remembered what his touch meant.

It means death for this star.

So, he closed his fist.

“This is fine,” he spoke with a bitter smile. “This is fine...”

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Millions of more years passed.

Time passed too slow for Azazel.

He sat at this dark place and watched this universe flourish beautifully.

“Hah...”

On this corpse, a faint smile appeared.

The dry flesh covering his old bones slowly started to become wet. Blood started to flow within him.

He felt alive.

He had never felt this happy.

But suddenly, a white portal appeared and someone walked through it.

“Michael?”

It was his older brother.

“I might have found a solution to your problem. A… partial solution,” he sounded defeated, but Azazel could see the cruel smile he was hiding and the look in his eyes that looked down on everything that was Azazel, the Angel of Death. “Hand over your body to me, please?”

A brother who stood at the bottom and a brother who stood at the top.

The two looked at each other in the eyes.

One pair of eyes radiated nothing but death and destruction while the other was filled with sad pain and kindness.

“I...”

Azazel had nothing, so there was nothing to lose.

If he dies, so what?

Will any of the angels care?

Will his siblings care?

Esme...

The Angel of Life is said to be the kindest angel in the creation but Azazel did not see it that way.

“Do you hate me too, Michael?”

“No, not at all. You are…”

He did not hate it, it was true.

But he did not love him as a brother would.

He did not respect him as an angel would.

“Interesting subject,” Michael's cruel voice slipped out.

Azazel, never once in this long life has ever thought about his own death or the death of others.

But for the first in a billion years, for the very first time, he wanted to hold his brother’s face with his palm and kill him.

No, I mustn't...

“Yes, Michael, I accept your offer.”

“Good.”

Michael touched his chest.

Huh?

Azazel lost his balance.

He fell onto his back.

And his vision blackened.

The dark universe became even darker for him.

The stars extinguished.

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“!!”

Azazel sat up.

It was a green grassy field that felt like it stretched for infinity.

He stood up.

He looked around and his heart clenched.

“Is...”

A silver city, so beautiful there was nothing which could be compared to it.

“Heaven?”

He was in Heaven.

For the first time in his life, he stepped into heaven.

“What…?”

Something was wrong, he could feel it.

But what was it?

What was wrong?

Why did he feel so different?

What had Michael done to him?

“You are me...”

A voice reached his ears.

He looked back and saw a man who looked like him.

No, what Azazel should look like if he had a proper body.

A beautiful and muscular man full of life with grey hair and red eyes. It was truly an angel, very different from this walking corpse.

The two of them looked at one another.

Why are you so similar? Both thought at once.

“Azrael, the Angel of Destruction.”

Michael, who appeared between the two of them, broke off the confused silence.

“I split you in half, Azazel. He is you..”

“!!”

“!!”

“You, the angel who could both kill and destroy is now two. Your powers are restricted enough to not live alone anymore.”

On the surface, it looked like an older brother wanting to help a younger one. However, Michael was pitying this man and his pathetic existence.

“The two of you can live in this beautiful world now. Along with other angels.”

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Time passed, millions of years passed, so what happened to Azazel?

Nothing!

He sat in the same field for millions of years.

Then billions of years passed yet he still sat there, alone.

Azrael became what he couldn’t. Azrael became what he wanted to become.

Azrael lives a happy life, a fun life, and he is hated by none.

So why…

Why does everyone hate him?

Why does everyone avoid him?

Why does everyone blame their problems on him?

Why him?

What has he done wrong?

“Don’t let it bother you too much,” he heard a voice behind him, so he turned his corpse-like body and saw the oldest of the angels, the most beautiful of the angels, and the most powerful of them.

“Lucifer?”

Lucifer’s lip softened as he smiled a small smile.

“Yes, brother.”

Azazel’s chest swelled.

A new emotion spread within him.

He was not sure what this emotion was, but he liked it.

“How are you?”

Lucifer sat next to him.

Azazel immediately tried to move away.

He was scared Lucifer would get hurt and possibly die. That would not be good for this Ultraverse.

“Don’t.”

Lucifer placed his hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, I won’t be affected by your power.”

“Is… I see.”

Azazel looked down.

Azazel opened his mouth but did not utter a word.

Uncomfortably, he looked at Lucifer, but then closed his mouth and looked down.

It is as if he wanted to say something, but he was not sure if he should.

“What is it?”

“!!”

His shoulders jumped.

“It-it’s nothing.”

“If you have something on your mind, just say it?”

Azazel relaxed his corpse-like body.

“...Why?”

“I couldn’t before,” Lucifer's voice carried anger and a hint of guilt. “Threads hanging from the higher world and controlling my movement.”

Azazel knew of the threads.

But he also thought that they were only controlled when needed for battle.

Perhaps his control over Lucifer was greater than others.

“It was not until recently when I started to realise.”

For beings as immortal as the angels, recent is as long as millions of years.

“I am close to shredding these threads I am hanged by.”

“I am sorry.”

Lucifer looked at him and cocked his head quizzically.

What was he apologising for? Was he apologising for the sad state of Lucifer’s existence? Or was it something else?

Lucifer could not figure that out.

So, he narrowed his eyes and asked.

“For what?”

Azazel could tell him why. He could tell him that he knew about the threads. He could tell him how he is free.

But instead, he clenched his fist tightly.

He wanted to be selfish.

“Can you...”

Azazel paused.

He took a moment to rethink.

Was it the right thing to do?

Should he go along with it?

Should he stop here and continue his lonely life the way it is?

“No, I cannot,” Lucifer answered his question.

Azazel was not surprised, but he was quite disappointed for a few reasons.

"Let me clarify, I can kill you. But the imbalance created from your death is something I cannot rectify. Without you, the Celestial scale will lean onto Esme's side, thus in a short period of time, we are looking at a complete collapse of our creation."

“...”

“If it was the Third Dimensional Plane of Existence and it’s infinite number of universes with its ten thousand higher dimensions, I could do it. But you affect the whole of creation and I do not think it is my place to do something like that.”

Azazel understood.

He is too important even if he does not want that.

“Unlike Michael, I cannot manipulate your existence. I cannot change you, in the same way how you cannot make life, while Esme cannot completely destroy life with her powers. Even the mightiest of the angels are limited.”

Lucifer looked at him with a defeated smile.

“I am sorry.”

“!!”

Azazel was not sure how to react to that.

Lucifer had done nothing wrong, he merely told him the truth, which others never did.

“No, no, it’s okay. I… Thank you, Lucifer.”

Lucifer faced his younger brother and smiled softly.

“Speaking of, I want you to promise me one thing, Azazel.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t want you to hate Esme. She has not done anything wrong. It is just the natural state of existence. Life and death cannot get along, no matter how much they try.”

“...”

“I know that you never wish to harm anyone or anything, but sadly, I don’t think Esme knows that yet because her status doesn’t allow her to see it differently. So, please, don’t think ill of her.”

In Heaven, Lucifer was always known as the evil and unfriendly of the angels. They spoke ill of him because of fear.

But for the first time, someone saw a different side of him.

They were wrong.

“I understand,” Azazel looked down and nodded his head.

“Thanks.”

As time passed, Lucifer visited him regularly. He stayed with him, talked with him, and slowly over time, Azazel gained the form he always wanted. He was forming a body.

Everything was going well.

Until that day.

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“Kill them for me, Azazel.”

The Supreme One ruined his perfect day as time froze in Heaven.

“Kill my soldiers for me.”

“But… I… I d-I don’t--”

“That does not matter, do as I say and become my soldier, part of the hive.”

“...”

Azazel hates harming people.

Azazel hates killing people.

Azazel hates death.

Ironic for death itself.

Ironic for a walking corpse.

“No.”

“Hm, you are mistaken,” the Supreme One shook his forefinger in front of his chest. “I said kill them.”

His voice distorted.

It became more mechanical and artificial. It was the most artificial voice in the universe.

“I left you free, but that does not mean I cannot take control of you.”

His eyes flared up with an even brighter colour.

“Kill them.”

The Heavens and the Hells shook at once.

Azazel’s body started to move slowly without his control.

His hand raised.

“No… No. Please. Puh-please… I… I don’t...”

STOP! PLEASEEEEEEEEE!

But his willpower was not good enough to battle his creator.

And so, his hand stretched forward.

And dozens of angels fell flat without their life.

“Good.”

The Supreme One had no face, but Azazel knew he would be smiling if he had one.

“Well done. It is good to know I can control you as well as any angel.”

လလလ

The Supreme One sacrificed more angels. And more.

Lucifer was “defeated”.

But the cost was too great.

Too many died and many blamed Azazel.

They shunned him even further away.

Even the usual greenfield did not work for him anymore.

He sat alone in a beautiful and lively city.

His empty universe is dark and scary, so he does not want to leave this place. But this placed hated him.

However, that’s not what hurt him the most.

He could no longer see Lucifer.

And…

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There was an angel who died, Ariel, the Angel of Hell, a being who protected the heavens and hells. When he was sacrificed, he was with his dearest friend.

Azrael, the Angel of Destruction.

Ariel and Azrael were drinking in a universe made by Ariel when he suddenly died.

Azrael, fuming with anger broke through the barriers of Heaven and held his other self by the neck.

“You killed him.”

“I…”

“You killed Ariel, you murderer!”

“I uh...”

He wanted to say he didn’t.

He wanted to say he was forced.

He wanted to say he was sorry.

But he did not get the chance.

Azrael punched a hole through his body.

“You accursed one, the bringer of death and end. How could you do this to us? Are we not the creation of the same Supreme Being?”

Azazel could not respond.

His mouth would not move.

He stood there as the Azrael punched him and kicked him until he thought it was enough. Enough for now, that is.

As his body broke to pieces, Azazel closed his eyes.

The outer shell was broken, but his real self was unharmed.

Yet he felt a lot of pain.

"I am not… a murderer…" he whispered.

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Everyone loathed him.

Everyone hated him.

Be it an angel or a devil or a God.

He is death.

He is the end.

He is Azazel.

What's so fun about power?

Everyone wants power.

Everyone is forced to become more powerful by strings of fate.

Everyone wants to be absolute.

But those who are the top, those who have achieved that state, what about them?

When weaker people look at the stronger, they imagine the life of the latter to be nothing short of glorious. Status, influence, respect, lovers, riches, and more.

It is the case. Anyone can achieve that with enough power. Anyone can have riches and statues and lovers. It is easy.

But what the weak don't see is the heart.

What happens to them? What happens when they become the strongest?

What then?

Suffering and pain…

Emptiness is what awaits.

Empty world, empty emotions, empty relationships, empty life.

Everything becomes empty without meaning.

Death…

And they all beg for death.

Some might not be able to see the strings of fate, but they can tell. They know they did wrong. They know they came this far because of someone else's influence.

And they know they cannot fight it. They know they are too weak and if they want to get stronger, it will only get worse.

So, they all look at the dark space and patiently wait for their death.

Is solace.

Why was he left free?

He finally understood that.

He understood his purpose.

Yes.

He spread his arms wide as he took an energetic humanoid form.

He flapped two white wings as he descended in front of a person who suffered.

He welcomed them.

"You are safe now."

He was the healer of this suffering and pain.

He was the mage who stood at the end, healing [killing] his allies.

He was the priest who blessed [buried] people.

He was the technology that brought wonders [war] to the universe.

He was the medicine [poison] that relieved all their pains.

He was the cosmic messiah [destroyer] that brought peace [end] to barren worlds.

"You are cured."

But what was the virus?

Destiny?

Fate?

Or was it someone who lived and breathed?

It's alright…

"All is well."

လလလ

She is powerful.

She is ugly.

A powerful ugly woman controlled by the threads that loom from a higher world.

She is here for my blood.

I don't want to fight back.

I hate fighting.

I hate hurting people.

I hate killing…

Why are we born to a fate controlled by someone else?

Why are we born to a world bred for suffering?

Why are we born mindless?

Why are we born?

But!

There was no answer to his questions.

He looked at the woman who recently made a visit.

“Don’t act like you did not see this coming. You have been expecting me.”

Why do we fight?

Why do we fight against people?

Why do we fight against fate?

Why do we fight a losing battle?

“But of course, you are not acting like your usual self. I must admit, I did not expect you to fall under the control of an unknown entity.“

It's simple, really.

We want to be remembered as heroes.

Fight, fight, fight. And then…

And then…

And then finally lose.

No matter how much of a villain you are, the opinions of others will surely change about you.

“Forget that, I am here to kill you.”

Alice Brown, the Angel Killer laughed.

“It’s ironic. The Angel of Death… Death itself will die.”

“I am afraid, I don’t quite see it as poetic as you do.”

She is powerful.

She is ugly.

She can kill me.

I will not object.

But…

“I do not wish to battle you. I hate fights. I hate violence. I hate death. But fear not...”

She was forcefully removed from heaven.

In another dimension, far from heaven, the Angel of Death let out a sigh.

“Why can’t we solve everything by talking?” he muttered under his breath.

She surveyed the dimension.

“Worry not, my controlled friend.”

For once, I want to clench my fist.

For once, I want to fight.

For once, I want to stand up for myself.

For once… I want them to see me differently.

“It’s nothing but green… But--”

“I created this dimension."

An empty green world.

The universe filled with nothing but deadly energies is an infinite greenfield.

She did not understand the logic.

But she did not question it any further.

"I do not want our battle to harm the heavens.”

No one will see me here.

But I want to make sure they will remember somehow.

My first world… I am back to it. A world of death. Deadly energies.

It came into existence with me.

It is mine.

So, it listens to me.

Alice looked at him in the eyes.

It seemed as if she was staring at endless death.

So, she averted her gaze immediately.

“To save everyone, I must put aside my ideals. So...”

My world, let them know...

Let everyone know…

Azazel shot out two white wings from his back that were covered in dark energy.

I battled.

I fought.

With his wings being unleashed, a white halo appeared on his head. Like his wings, the halo was also covered in dark energy.

Watch me.

Look at me.

“Let’s battle!”

Esme, Lucifer, Michael, Azrael…

Angels, demons, humans…

Supreme One.

“You will die, Angel of Death!”

Alice shot herself towards the Angel of Death.

I FOUGHT FOR ALL OF YOU!

“No."

It's pathetic.

It's disgusting.

But!

Watch me fight.

Watch me lose.

Let me be someone that isn't a monster.

"I will save everyone!"

Please… I beg you.