77 The Angel of Death

The four remaining team members were now standing in a throne room. The crystal white motioned along the porcelain walls. Samael sat on a throne. His eyes were a beautiful hazel which scorned like hell. His mug alone was fear itself.

"So, you thought you could face me?" he asked.

"We come to bring back Christmas and save the people," whimpered Mina.

Samael chuckled as he collectively sat on his throne. His perfected figure couldn't be ignored. Even his smile was sharp from a distance. When spoke, his voice was obeyed out of fear. Only the brave could stand in such a presence. In contrast, a fool would come to their senses before objecting against such a man.

"You say you're here to bring Christmas and save the people," said Samael as he stood high on his feet. "But who will save you... from me"?

He looked not for an answer. Rather, he took joy that the three were willing to face him.