Chapter 39 An Old Friend Arrives Late

Constancia rose from the gravel and rubble, letting out a roar like the final tolling bell of this city of death, Azrael.

She gazed at Belial, her eyes still burning with appetite, thirsting for the blood of Belial.

*Why? You are nothing more than a shattered puppet of Azrael; where do you find the courage to challenge the leviathan among the fallen angels?*

*Where do you get the audacity to attempt to devour me, Belial? From antiquity to this very day, I am the only one who devours others!*

The arch-demon flickered his fingers, and two black whales swam toward Constancia, opening their jaws to swallow her into the shadow-void. When bitten, she would be torn apart by the shifting of space. Even someone as formidable as Abel had been battered and bloodied under Belial's sorcery.

Back then, it was not that Belial could not defeat that ancestor of mortals; rather, that battle had been unnecessary. But this time, Belial would never allow a mere puppet to challenge the majesty of the leviathan.

Constancia evaded the black whales, but the black whales were infinite. They lurked within the darkness, waiting for the prey's most vulnerable moment. *Constancia, how long can you hide?*

She was struck by a black whale. Alongside the whales, smaller dark fish lingered, tracking the prey's fear and feeding upon it. As the prey's fear grew, they would become increasingly ferocious. These small fish bit into Constancia's neck, causing her to stagger and halt, while more of them began to tear at the flesh upon her body—the flesh of the undead was not delicious, but it served to make her all the more terrified.

Mankind fears many things, but above all, they fear the dark and the divine authority. Constancia, you have slumbered for so long within the solitary shadow of death; even while listening to the Requiem of the Angel of Death, how could you ever escape the erosion of fear?

The darkness symbolizes the unknown, and it remains eternally deep within your heart.

Constancia shrieked once more. She broke free from the small fish, dodging just as a black whale lunged to swallow her. *Magnificent, truly magnificent. Her physical prowess is already approaching Abel's. Perhaps Belial's execution will require a little more time.*

*Pitiable puppet, your demonic blood cannot heal the wounds inflicted by the darkness. When mortals commit sins, God dispatches the seraphim of divine punishment, but not all punishments are sacred and luminous. Do you know how many messengers of light Belial's darkness has devoured?*

The leviathan never remembers; the leviathan only devours.

Belial spat out six swordfish, which transformed into multiple shadows, swimming toward the death-struggling vampire. The dark swordfish were covert and swift, stealing the enemy's will, driving their blades to claim souls with unstoppable lethality. A weakened will deepens fear; she was on the verge of collapse, at her last gasp under the onslaught of the leviathan school.

And then, the leviathan would uncover the truth—what conspiracy Lucifer and Azrael were truly plotting.

She lashed out with fists and claws, trading defense and offense, shattering this magnificent underground city piece by piece. She indeed possessed breathtaking brute might; heavy sins and a twisted soul made her seem as though the demonic blood of a thousand vampires had been fused into one. Belial had underestimated her; perhaps he needed to summon even more fish.

The mountain shook, massive boulders collapsing downward. Belial could not help but sigh. The ancient and fragile rocks of Cappadocia could not withstand the invasion of the shadows; he had to hurry and bring Constancia to a complete halt before this place descended into absolute chaos.

This mountain collapse naturally had no effect on Belial, but he sensed Longinus's anxiety and grew concerned for Lamia's safety. Belial could not afford a single mistake; the soul of Longinus was an enemy far more worthy of vigilance than Constancia.

She was on the verge of falling. Her hands were mutilated, her legs nearly paralyzed, and her spirit utterly exhausted. This ghost that should have perished, this sacrifice to Azrael's schemes—Belial had defeated her, and it filled him with joy.

Nothing could bring Belial more solace than the defeat of Azrael.

Suddenly, white bone spikes erupted all across Constancia's body, wounding the school of fish that surrounded her.

Belial appreciated this death struggle; it added an extra layer of pleasure to his hunt.

***

Yet when Belial saw his school of fish melting away against the tips of those white bones, Belial lost his smile.

Constancia began to dance. The wind passed through the hollows of the bone spikes, producing a mournful melody—this was the Requiem Dance of Azrael.

To mortals, death is merely the departure of the soul from the body. But Azrael's death was not so simple; it permeated the world like air, enshrouding all things, from an insect being crushed to a tornado destroying everything in its path, draping softly over all existence.

To be precise, the death of Azrael meant the fading of all things.

Azrael could harvest the lifespan of all things, and Belial's black fish were no exception. The black fish were not living entities, yet they too would perish, and the demise of the black fish granted Constancia rebirth.

This was never simple; engaging in battle with another arch-demon was by no means easy. Belial had grown far too arrogant.

Azrael was wearing Belial down.

*What manner of arrogance makes you, an ignorant Angel of Death, believe you can exhaust me, Belial? I am the infinite leviathan! I am the Angel of Darkness!*

Belial allowed the darkness to become his carapace, transforming into a dark dragon as he swam toward that puppet—no, toward Azrael himself. He had realized by now that he was not facing a crude creation; he had to treat this as Azrael's true avatar.

The dark dragon breathed dark fire, and the Angel of Death brandished a sword of white bones. The fire of darkness used fear as its fuel and will as its nourishment, while the sword of white bones caused all things to wither, until even the flames would ultimately be extinguished.

Amidst the exchange of blows, Belial roared, "Azrael! Are you too a party to the betrayers?"

The Angel of Death did not reply, expressionlessly beating back Belial's offensive. With a flash, he appeared atop the head of the dark dragon, slashing open Belial's carapace with a single stroke.

Belial screamed, shadow blood gushing from his wound. That black blood instantly transformed into the jaws of a fish, swallowing the Angel of Death whole. Belial seized the fish and slammed it against the ground, causing it to vanish before Azrael could harvest its lifespan to heal himself. The black dragon swept its claws, striking the enemy dead-center and knocking Azrael down with the crushing weight of a million-ton vessel.

Yet Azrael's sword also pierced the black dragon's claw, which began to crumble and dissolve, the destruction spreading relentlessly up the dragon's body. Belial instantly severed his entire arm. The Angel of Death still stood upright, the wind of sorrow echoing above.

Belial realized he still held the upper hand, but he could no longer afford to be impatient. He had to stop Azrael's Requiem Dance first, or this battle would rage on endlessly.

He regenerated the dark dragon's carapace, concentrated his power, and spat a dark sphere from his mouth. It was the purest darkness, a dark star that even Azrael could not swiftly erase; it would absorb Azrael's will and destroy him from the soul outward.

Sensing the danger, Azrael used divine speed to retreat, evading it. Belial commanded the fish school to encircle and press Azrael, at least stalling him, while the dark star accelerated toward the enemy.

Finally, Azrael was caught in the gravitational pull of the dark star. Despite his utmost resistance, he was continuously drawn inward. With nowhere left to run, he drove his long bone sword straight into the dark star, attempting to destroy it before it could digest him.

Belial focused all his attention on subduing Azrael. They had fallen into a deadlock, and into grave peril. The dark star had to obliterate Azrael's soul before Azrael could destroy it.

Belial realized this was still nothing more than Constancia. Azrael had poured vast effort into her and endowed her with considerable power, but she remained a vampire—to an arch-demon, she was merely mortal clay.

She could no longer hold out; the dark star gained the upper hand. In the end, Belial claimed victory. Her fear caused her to release her grip on the bone sword, and she collapsed flat upon the ground, her body whole yet her mind utterly shattered.

The dark star had shrunk to the size of a human body. Belial's victory had been perilously close.

***

He walked toward Constancia. Now, he could safely inspect her soul. He felt not the slightest fear that this might be a feint by Azrael; when Belial devoured his opponent to the very last, he would know the truth, for no one could deceive him.

Belial beheld the visions of the past. Constancia had been plunged into agony, having slain every vampire in this place, while the dawn of redemption remained infinitely far away.

She had murmured, "Angel of Death, what more would you have of me? Is it that I should die, and serve you in death?"

Azrael had told her to crawl into her coffin, sleep quietly, and wait for the Angel of Death to complete his final ritual, after which he would descend and lead Constancia away from this place.

He had told her it would be a very brief age, but it was not.

As she slept within her coffin, she felt another presence appear outside it. Morning-star light spilled across the coffin, filling Constancia with unease. She had wanted to rise from her coffin and slay that person, but soon she lost all consciousness, falling into a profound and absolute slumber.

Belial understood what had happened—Azrael had utilized Cappadocia, using his pure daughter to shape her into his own weapon, one capable of scattering his sorcery across the world while allowing Azrael to break free from his current imprisonment.

He was on the verge of succeeding, but Lucifer had come to Kaymakli, halting Azrael and keeping Constancia slumbering until this very day.

Recently, Constancia was about to end her long sleep once more, meaning everything that transpired today was no coincidence.

Lucifer knew she would awaken, which was why he had been forced to find his way here.

Belial had no need to search for Lucifer; he was already here in Kaymakli.

Belial heard someone say, "Why are you always so obstinate, my friend?"

The necromancer named Ambrose appeared. He remained as composed as he had during their previous encounter, resembling a destitute monk from Saint Peter's Basilica or the Abbey of Panna—bearing no malice toward you, only the sentiment of salvation.

The leader of the fallen angels, the embodiment of the arch-demon, this disguised necromancer now looked rather like a saint suffering on behalf of humanity.

Belial grinned widely, the dragon fangs he bared seeming as though they were about to be plunged into Ambrose's blood. This honeyed draught of vengeance filled him with rapturous joy.

He said, "You betrayed us to Michael's armies, and we were cast down into hell, yet you were never there. Where were you? Once the chief of angels, the king of demons whom we worshipped?"

Lucifer replied, "If I told you the Creator released me ahead of time and I knew nothing of it, would you believe me?"

Belial said, "Of course. I believe every single word you say."

Yet that would not stop Belial from ripping every single fragment of this liar and traitor's soul to shreds after boiling it in a cauldron of churning blood.