The Seductress of Souls!

Azrael raised the stolen sword, the blade gleaming in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the canopy above. Marcus, his face a mask of shock and realization, stumbled backward, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Please, Azrael," he pleaded, his voice laced with regret. "I... I didn't mean for it to come to this. I was desperate. I wanted to prove my old man wrong. I wanted this victory."

Azrael's eyes narrowed, his gaze cold and detached. He knew the truth of Marcus's words, but he couldn't afford to soften his resolve now. "Yet you did all those things," he growled, his voice dripping with disgust. "You weak, pathetic man. Bravery and resolve, wasn't that, your Witch Hunters motto? And here you are, using a boy as a pawn and bartering with an evil witch."

"I may be down but I still have my ears, you know," the Witch said, watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"Shut it!" He screamed. "I'll deal with you later."

"Oh, such insolence." The Witch chuckled, her eyes glinting with a sinister glow. "It seems I chose the right sacrifice for my lord."

Marcus took the opportunity and tackled Azrael by his legs. Distracted, the boy fell to the ground, the Witch hunter on top of him. "I'm sorry for what I did to you, what I planned to do to you. But whatever you have to say needs to be delayed as long as that evil is alive," he pointed a finger at the smiling Witch.

She was now crouched on the ground. Her eyes were glittering and her lips were curved ear to ear. It was a strange sight, even for Azrael. He never had to deal with the likes of these creatures in his past life as the Witch Hunters took care of them efficiently, but seeing one up close was a novel experience.

"If only you knew the power you just unleashed," the Witch said, her voice echoing in Azrael's mind. "Such a beautiful and deadly creature, destined to plunge this world into darkness with his untapped potential. How can you not feel the power coursing through your veins? You should feel it, not like a wave crashing over your head but like a wave washing over you, calming you and making you feel as if you could do anything."

The Witch extended her arms. "My lord is quivering with excitement. She wants you. She needs you. Come with me and I shall make you powerful enough to break this world at your will. Come, my love. Be her man."

Azrael felt the hair on his arms stand up as he listened to the witch's words. It was almost hypnotic, a seductive promise of power. Her eyes pierced his mind, enthralling him with its siren-like allure.

Azrael fought against the enchanting pull of the witch's words, his mind wrestling with conflicting desires.

Power, vengeance, and the allure of dominance whispered enticingly in his ears, tempting him to succumb to the darkness. But deep within, a glimmer of his true self, the boy seeking justice and light, fought against the seductive call.

"No!" he shouted, his voice breaking through the ethereal trance. "I will not be swayed by your lies and promises of power. I am not a pawn for your dark lord, nor will I become a vessel of destruction."

"What a conviction. I like that." Her voice changed as it converged with something else. Someone else. She licked her lips. "I really like that."

"Shit!" Marcus cursed, watching the horror unfolding in front of him. This was the reason he wanted to end this battle before it even started.

He was someone who could deal with smaller witches like the one from that Greenhill, but a witch on this level...it was impossible. And not to mention, whoever she contracted now has descended upon her.

"What is happening?" Azrael also felt the chills on his spine. The voice...it doesn't belong to this world.

"Descendence," Marcus said, not taking his eyes off the Witch. "It's when the whatever devil she worships decides to take over her body."

"You mean, that's a devil."

"No," Marcus replied. "Devils cannot enter this world fully unless they have enough followers in their folds. For that, they seduce the people with power and whatever these pitiful beings desire. And in turn, they earn a follower. And they send these contracted beings, widely known as witches, to acquire more followers for them."

"Why's it only women? Where are the male witches?"

"The power of a devil is too much for someone fragile to be held on their body. These creatures go insane and in turn, cause chaos around the world and that is how we came to know about such phenomena.

"The devils also understood that, and they began to decrease the power given to the witches but increase it gradually after the witch gains momentum and grow stronger. But who needs a man? Who desires to be with someone who's insane and ugly? But women, they have the natural seduction and their bodies, enough to attract all the men."

"What a shit!"

"Not my point."

The witch's body contorted as her back arched and she let out a loud, piercing shriek. Azrael covered his ears, wincing in pain at the sheer intensity of the sound. Marcus, on the other hand, stood firm, his eyes locked on the witch's writhing form.

"What's happening to her?"

"The devil might have seen some potential in you and she wants you to be her. She's descending on the witch, but that much power is hard for that woman to handle. Her body is breaking up."

As her transformation came to an end, she sat up, her body hunched over. Her eyes were no longer the same, instead, two glowing orbs of light stared out at them. The aura around her was different, almost overwhelming. She was radiating a raw, primal force that sent shivers down Azrael's spine.

Her face was cracked. Like they were going to fall apart anytime. Her once beautiful, flowing hair was now falling apart like an old woman's.

'Too much power!' Azrael thought. He took a gulp.

"It seemed she was worshipping something from the upper echelon of the devil. One of the infernal princes, maybe." Marcus murmured, his teeth clattering together and his body becoming more and more cold.

'Infernal Princes?!' He has heard about it from the 'Book of Eldrich.' These princes are in the upper echelon of the Devil hierarchy, directly under the Archduke himself. 'This is dangerous.'

He has heard about these devils and their lore, but he only thought of it as fiction written by a one-time hero named Lorn. He thought the hero wrote this in his old age, trying to incite hope among the people. But now, it seems the truth was much more terrifying.

"You're right. You have the power. The power to destroy." The witch spoke, her voice echoing in their minds. It was no longer a single voice but a cacophony of whispers, a haunting symphony of darkness.

"Come with me, child, and I shall give you the power you desire." She stood up, or rather, floated up, her form ethereal and otherworldly but ugly. With a sinister grace, she extended a hand toward Azrael.

Marcus, rising up, his grip tightening around his sword, stepped forward, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice wavering slightly.

The witch's grin widened, revealing sharp, glistening teeth. "I am called by many names, but mortals like you know me as the Seductress of Souls," she replied, her voice dripping with both allure and menace.

"It's a fitting title, don't you think?" She licked her lips slowly, relishing the fear that emanated from her audience.

Recognition dawned on Marcus, his breath catching in his throat. "Oh God, Lilith," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with a mixture of dread and resignation. "We're screwed."

The witch's eyes flashed with a malevolent fire, her true form shimmering briefly before returning to its deceptive facade. "You are not worthy enough to even hear my true name, you worm!" she thundered, her voice resonating like a tempest, shaking the very foundations of the forest.

Azrael could feel the ground quiver beneath him, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Mortis Vortex." she uttered and raised her hand.