The mark

"Where do you reside?" Azrael inquired, his voice carrying a sense of intrigue.

Varian exchanged a brief glance with Aric before responding, "We call a quaint village our home – Evergreen, a place nestled amidst the beauty of nature."

"I have a task of great importance for you both," Azrael's voice resonated with a commanding presence, his gaze fixed on Varian and Aric. "You shall embark on a journey that spans the vast expanse of this world. Your purpose is to spread the word of my existence, to kindle the flames of belief, and to guide them onto the path of unwavering service to me."

"And after the passage of five years, you shall return to your humble village, accompanied by those who have become faithful followers through your efforts," Azrael declared with a measured tone, his words carrying an air of anticipation.

"It is then that our paths shall intersect once more, and the fruits of your labor will come to fruition." "But before you embark on this sacred endeavor, I shall bestow upon you a divine gift—the mark of my presence," Azrael proclaimed, his voice resonating with solemnity and power.

Although Azrael's understanding of his powers remained shrouded in mystery, he could still perceive the tendrils of his enigmatic strength reaching out, brushing against the fabric of existence. The essence of his divinity pulsed through him, a potent energy that hinted at the vast depths of his abilities.

"Now, extend your swordhand Aric" Azrael instructed, his voice carrying an air of solemnity and anticipation. Azrael's grasp enveloped the knight's arm, and his touch radiated an otherworldly energy. As his fingers extended, a vibrant emerald light illuminated the air.

With a graceful and precise motion, he etched an intricate design onto the knight's forearm – a magnificent sword with wings, a symbol of their newfound connection, loyalty, and the boundless journey that lay ahead. "Ahhhh, what is that!"

The light seemed to merge with the knight's very being, leaving the mark imprinted upon his soul for all eternity. As the knight's blood trickled down his arm, a sense of both trepidation and awe filled the air. Each drop seemed to carry with it a fragment of the profound bond that had been forged between mortal and deity.

Azrael's gaze remained fixed on the knight's arm, his presence an enigmatic blend of authority. "It is the mark of our covenant," Azrael's voice carried a weight of both reassurance and mystery. "A symbol of your devotion and a conduit through which we shall communicate. Fear not, for it is a gift that shall guide you on your path and anchor us in our shared purpose."

The knight's initial astonishment gave way to a sense of reverence, his fingers tracing the contours of the mark with a mixture of wonder and gratitude. It was a mark that set him apart, a beacon of his commitment to Azrael and a reminder of the destiny that awaited him. "The mark will serve as a reminder of our bond," Azrael continued, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"Through it, you shall hear my voice and feel my presence, even when our paths diverge across the vast expanse of the world." Varian's heart quickened as Azrael's gaze shifted toward him, the weight of anticipation hanging in the air.

The knight's eyes met the enigmatic deity's, a mixture of curiosity and reverence shining within their depths. He stepped forward, his breath steady despite the surge of emotions coursing through him.

"Varian," Azrael's voice carried a resonance that seemed to pierce through the very fabric of reality, "you stand at the precipice of a choice—one that will forever shape your fate and the path you tread upon." "Will you accept my mark?" Varian's heart pounded in his chest, the allure of such power both enticing and unsettling.

He considered the implications, the weight of responsibility that would accompany such a gift. Varian's thoughts whirled, his inner turmoil waging a silent battle.

The weight of the decision pressed upon him, and he knew that his choice would irrevocably shape his destiny. With a deep breath, Varian's gaze met Azrael's once more, his voice a reflection of his resolute determination, "I accept, Azrael. I accept the gift," With a solemn grace, Azrael extended his fingers, infusing the air with a radiant luminescence.

Varian's forearm was offered willingly, a canvas for the enigmatic deity's touch. A symphony of light and energy danced as the mark took form, a fusion of wings and sword etched in eternal connection. Varian's breath hitched as the mark settled. "Now, embark on your journey! Spread my word, kindle belief, and dedicate yourselves in service.

In doing so, you shall discover salvation that awaits," Azrael proclaimed, his voice resounding with unwavering conviction, echoing their purpose into the vast expanse of their newfound mission. Azrael sensed the knights' natural gift for words during their brief exchange.

Beyond their eloquence, their appearance also lent them credibility. Aric, tall and handsome, sported medium-length brown hair and striking green eyes. Meanwhile, Varian's blond hair, blue eyes, and well-groomed beard added to their distinguished presence.

After conversing with the knights, Azrael had discovered his aspiration: to attain godhood, to ascend as a ruler of this world, commanding the servitude of all. Yet, the path to this lofty ambition remained shrouded in uncertainty, a puzzle with no clear solution.

Furthermore, he pondered whether the God of Massacre would permit him to achieve his divine ambition, uncertain of the deity's intentions. For the time being, true godhood remained beyond his grasp, necessitating that he adopt the guise of a deity, a facade he must embrace. "I am confident they will excel in their task," Azrael pondered.

"But now, for another matter, what kind of religion do I even want to establish? I know that I will incorporate living sacrifices and have them engage in acts of killing, but what other practices and beliefs should they adhere to?"

He thought about it for quite some. "Ah! I've got it" Azrael thought. Living sacrifices would be a central tenet, with followers offering up the lives of others to please Azrael.

These sacrifices would be performed in elaborate ceremonies, with the belief that the spilled blood and the release of life energy would feed the deity's power and grant blessings to the faithful. This facade, he believed, might eventually evolve into reality as Azrael himself ascended to godhood in the future.

"But for now, it's time to explore my own potential, to understand my capabilities and limitations. Most importantly, I need to ascertain if there is a way for me to truly perish."

And so, Azrael embarked on a journey to a secluded place where he could train, reflect, and experiment, delving deeper into his own being.

He journeyed across rivers, ascended towering mountains, and traversed expansive plains, unwavering in his quest to find a fitting sanctuary. Throughout his travels, he remained vigilant, skillfully avoiding human settlements.

His intention was clear: for the time being, he wished his two devoted servants to be the sole bearers of his presence, avoiding any chance of accidental sightings that could give rise to tales of a mysterious figure with flowing white hair, and inadvertently alter the course of his carefully planned emergence.

After days of relentless exploration, he finally stumbled upon a concealed cave that would serve as his temporary base. With the hidden cave now serving as his sanctuary, Azrael felt a surge of anticipation coursing through his veins. The time had come for him to delve into the depths of his newfound abilities, to unlock the mysteries of his own existence. The air within the cavern was thick with an almost palpable sense of potential, and Azrael was eager to seize it.

Sitting at the heart of the cave, he closed his eyes, allowing the silence to envelop him. He extended his senses, feeling the energy of the world around him flowing like a river. Concentrating, he reached deep within himself, tapping into reservoirs of power that seemed to lie dormant, waiting for his command. A faint, ethereal glow emanated from Azrael's form as he began to experiment.

He focused on the elements, manipulating them with a mere thought. Flames flickered to life at his fingertips, dancing to an otherworldly rhythm. Water droplets materialized from thin air and converged into shimmering streams that defied gravity. The very earth seemed to respond to his will, shifting and shaping as if molded by invisible hands.

As he honed his newfound abilities, Azrael couldn't help but marvel at the extent of his power. He pushed the boundaries further, conjuring gusts of wind that swept through the cave with a gentle yet commanding force.

His white hair billowed around him like a living entity, and his eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, reflecting the boundless energy he wielded. But amidst the exhilaration of discovery, questions nagged at Azrael's mind. Could he truly defy death? Could he attain true godhood and rule over the world he so desired?

The cave became a crucible of introspection as he grappled with these existential queries. His thoughts were a tempest, swirling with uncertainty and determination.