White wolf clan 1

\[Gaia (Earth), January 1, 2030 (New Year/Chaos Day)\]

The atmosphere was warm and comfortable, with a cool breeze blowing as the sun shone brightly, creating a perfect ambiance.

People lounged on the beach, enjoying vacations or preparing to celebrate the first day of a new year, while others set goals they would eventually surrender to laziness and give up on.

They held onto the mindset that next year would surely be their year.

However, all hope came crashing down with the arrival of those beings who referred to themselves as mighty entities—Gods.

At first, they promised humanity everything they desired: power.

Then, they connivingly used it against them, causing wars between humans.

The most outrageous part was that these Gods had the power to easily take over humanity, yet they found joy in chaos, manipulating humans to tear each other apart.

World War III couldn't compare to the devastation caused by the thirst for power.

The more destruction that occurred, the more the Gods granted special followers abilities that could level mountains, prolonging the war while they gambled on who would win.

These followers are now known as champions and Demigods—fearsome and powerful humans who worshiped the Gods and did their bidding.

As a result, the balance was disturbed, and a new evil emerged that sought the blood of both the Gods, their followers, and humanity itself: the Strogois.

Once confined to the celestial realm, the Strogois hitched a ride when the Gods were sent to the human realm by the supreme ones.

Strogois were once entities of the same stature as Gods, angels who brightened the celestial realm like sunlight. However, their hunger for power drove them to the dark side.

Now, they were beings emitting a red aura of evil, seeking blood and the destruction of life itself.

.

.

.

At the very peak of the largest mountain the world had ever seen—five times the size of Mount Everest, which paled in comparison to its might—stood a grand castle in all its majesty.

The castle towered with structures made from minerals so valuable they could only be found deep within the earth's surface, particularly gold.

The purity of the gold radiated holiness, power, and a celestial will.

Every corner was crafted from 24-karat gold bricks, whether melted to create eye-catching statues or formed into pillars that held the entire structure.

On the balcony at the very top, a mighty-looking man stood with a piercing gaze that penetrated through the clouds down to the humans dwelling thousands of meters below.

His golden pupils, shaped like lightning bolts and glowing with holiness, complemented his spiky white hair and muscular frame.

"What weak and pathetic beings they are. Detestable," Zeus muttered, indulging in his morning routine of gazing down at and belittling humanity.

But then, the dark clouds surrounding the castle rumbled, and sparks of yellow lightning crackled through the sky.

They might have seemed ordinary to anyone else, but for Zeus, it was a clear message.

"The bastard is back!."

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.

.

"Ugh! My head!!"

Azrael's eyes slowly fluttered open, his surroundings a blur.

He had to blink several times just to bring a clear image into focus.

When the haziness and throbbing in his head subsided, he found himself staring at the lifeless head of a wolf.

"The hell!" Azrael sprang up like a frightened bunny, startled by the sight.

However, he quickly calmed down when he realized it was just a wolf's pelt.

(-_-)

'That was a shameful act for someone like me to be afraid of a wolf's pelt,' Azrael thought.

The place was decorated entirely with hides, designed to provide warmth and comfort in winter.

It resembled a hut but was shaped like a dome, making it as spacious as a two-bedroom apartment.

'Why does this place feel familiar?'

Suddenly, random memories flooded his consciousness—memories that weren't his own but belonged to someone else.

They depicted a life of daily struggle, trying to survive in a world filled with tragedy until the very end.

"I see, his name was the same as mine," Azrael thought, wondering what kind of parent would name their child 'Azrael.'

The name Azrael meant 'Angel of Death,' and no one in their right mind would bear that name—except him, of course.

As the memories became more vivid, he gained a better understanding of the world's situation.

He looked down at his chest, now noticing he was shirtless and his wounds were bandaged.

The body Azrael now possessed had changed when he took it over.

The former owner was a skinny type with long black hair and an ordinary appearance.

However, with the dark god now dwelling in the body, it had increased in muscle mass and developed a more powerful frame.

His hair had grown half a meter, glimmering like crude oil, and his pupils had darkened into an abyss.

His face now had a heavenly allure that could turn heads.

"Hmm, I don't think I'm alone here," Azrael mused.

\[Of course, the host is not. A kind human saved your life.\]

"Now who could that be?" Azrael wondered.

But then, he became alert as someone pulled back the curtains and entered the room.

"Azrael, you finally woke up."

*****