What sorcery is this?....

From afar, one could see the red substance, which seemed like an indicator of the location.

However, up close, only the scene of a massacre burned itself into one's retinas.

The sight was revolting in every possible way—heads ripped off bodies, still with expressions of shock, a jawless body lying in a pool of blood, the jaw nowhere to be found.

Limbs had been forcefully torn off, likely from one of the bodies resting on the earth.

"Please forgive me... I didn't mean to kill you. I was just sent to do so... Please!" The cigarette-smoking man pleaded for mercy.

"Mercy is nothing but weakness in the face of your enemies," Azrael said, tightening his firm grip on the man's neck.

"Weakness; now that's something I don't show."

"Please!..."

Before the man could try to reason with the one he was certain had died when he hacked him from behind, his neck was crushed instantly.

He died without comprehending the fact that he had succumbed to death at the hands of the one he killed.

'What has the world become...'

Azrael tossed the useless waste of dead flesh aside onto the earth's surface before seeking clarity in his thoughts.

'What did he mean by sent to kill me? Hmm... That could be the one who once owned this sack of meat,' Azrael thought, referring to the former owner.

'I should've asked for more information. Oh well, the dead don't talk, do they? Heheheh.'

Azrael looked at his arm, bleeding from ruptured veins strained under too much pressure.

"Ahh, damn it. This is not a body fit for a god. Curse the supreme ones!"

A god's soul, confined within a human body, was bound by the pure act of self-mutilation.

The body couldn't contain a god's soul and would either explode from excessive use of its strength or due to the immense pressure.

If the body were to be destroyed, the soul would return to the soul space for another thousand years.

After a few minutes of venting his rage over his misfortune and unfair circumstances, Azrael sighed. "Now, what do I do from here?"

Before Azrael could decide his next move, a screen obstructed his sight, shocking him.

"What sorcery is this?!!!!!"

\[Ding!!\]

\[The almighty God of Darkness, who once terrified the lands, has now become a pathetic human. Only shame and suffering await him on his path.\]

"....." (-_-)

"How dare you speak to an entity of my stature with such audacity!" Azrael shouted.

He might be powerless, but he still had the soul of a god, which deserved respect.

\[The host should take a chill pill. I have been created to guide you on your path to power by the supreme ones. I am called a system.\]

"What do those bastards want from me? Isn't this punishment enough?" Azrael said, calming his bubbling rage.

Whatever this was, it might be to his benefit.

When punished by the supreme ones, no gifts are given—just pure anguish and pain.

But in this case, the 'System' signifies a gift, or in simple terms, a pardon.

\[You've been punished for your deeds, but a supreme god shows mercy and attached me to your soul.\]

\[Since your demise, the celestial realm has undergone great changes. More gods emerged, and most of them went rogue, seeking more power, which angered the supreme ones.\]

\[As punishment, all gods were cast down into Gaia. The situation worsened as no higher power opposed them, allowing them to do whatever they wanted with humanity.\]

"Hehehe, I see. They have brought themselves to ruin," Azrael chuckled in amusement.

\[The Gods have established their reign, and now Demigods and champions possess the earth.\]

"I couldn't care less," Azrael said. The gods were always trouble, and he no longer cared what they did.

All he wanted now was to seek vengeance against Zeus, Ventus, and the supreme ones for putting him in this situation. However, without his powers, it was impossible to even aim.

'Zeus and Ventus, I will have your heads! Even if I have to kill myself over and over until I get the perfect body,' Azrael thought, clutching his fingers as if trying to crush his foes.

"What does this specific supreme god need me for? And which race is this god from?" Azrael asked, a bit intrigued.

The supreme gods were like the leaders of all gods, the great beings. They were the ones who put gods in order, but without beings that even gods feared, they tended to act like humans—seeking more power and rule.

Azrael, being a rogue god and even a Godslayer, was the last person the supreme ones would want to contact, which he knew all too well.

\[The information about the supreme one cannot be disclosed unless you are strong enough. This is why I am here.\]

They had stripped away his powers, given him a weak body, and now they wanted him to get stronger. Azrael felt like the supreme ones were using him as a pawn in their game.

\[The information I am permitted to reveal about the one who created me is their race: the Spectrum God race.\]

"Hmm, interesting," Azrael mused.

The gods were divided into four races, each with special traits of their own, and the supreme ones were the leaders of each.

They were considered the great kings of their races—masters who had surpassed the level of gods but were never seen.

"So how do I get my powers back and reclaim my treasures?" Azrael asked. He didn't like this one bit, but what could he do?

\[Firstly, would you like to access the former owner's memories?\]

\[Yes\] or \[No\]

"Yes."

Azrael would have dismissed the memories, but after some thought, he realized how valuable they could be.

For one, he was in an unknown world, with nowhere to go and no one to rely on.

He couldn't stay in a forest; that would be utterly disgraceful to his name.

Information about the world and the former owner of this body was key.

\[Binding memories to host. All injuries will be healed in the process.\]

"Injuries?..." Azrael raised a brow, not feeling a thing, yet the see-through axe puncture was still very much in view—a kind of fatality no ordinary being could survive.

Before he could react, he was struck by a brain-splitting pain that reached his soul.

"Ahhhhhh!!!! What is this pain!!!!!"

The pain was so unbearable that it made him move back and forth repeatedly before he unfortunately slipped on some wet mud and fell backward, knocking himself out with a hit to the skull from a large rock.

******