Death Heir’s Devouring System

Azrael wasn't a person who cared for things like beauty. If it couldn't benefit him and if it didn't pose danger, he would ignore most things.

Still, he was not a blind man. He knew who were average in appearance, who were beautiful, and who were considered striking beyond belief.

Seraphina was one such person. Her power was undoubtedly the reason people revered her as an angel, but her beauty also played a role in it.

That is why the little he could see with his blurred vision shocked him.

Seraphina's golden armor had been shattered; unable to withstand the might of the Proven, she had been forced to keep at bay. Beneath it, her once-pristine skin had turned black, scorched by a fire so hot that it had reduced it to the color of coal.

Her ribs were visible beneath all the burned flesh, made more apparent with each shallow breath she took.

The left side of her skull was badly burned, with deep wounds that exposed her eyeball, from which an endless stream of blood poured.

Her left foot had been torn off, exposing the bone beneath, yet she showed no sign of pain as she continued to walk forward.

The beautiful crimson flower, Heartroot, that Azrael had personally placed behind her ear was no more. Its crimson color had drained; now it was just a withered flower, with all of its power lost.

Seraphina had died, only to be brought back by the power of the Exalted item.

On her shoulder rested the body of a girl, drenched in crimson blood.

It was Isolde, no doubt; it was impossible to determine if Seraphina was carrying her friend to safety… or her corpse.

She walked aimlessly, with no direction in mind, only to halt momentarily, seeing who was resting before her.

Azrael, with his lower jaw and arm missing. The way he bled seemed endless, his veins pitch-black, still in the midst of evolution.

Next to him, Victor rested on the ground, his face unrecognizable yet with a smile plastered across it. He didn't seem to mind that he was bleeding from his severed hand as he took deep breaths from a cigar in his mouth.

Seraphina let out a small sigh. Coming closer, she gently put down her drenched-in-blood friend on the ground before collapsing to her knees, staring at Azrael.

Her scorched lips parted slowly.

"Did we win?" she asked softly.

Azrael, with no way to speak, simply nodded.

The edges of her eyes began to tear up as she glanced at the Apex Queen in the distance, an action Azrael couldn't do, since even just breathing seemed to drain all of his power.

"He escaped," Seraphina said slowly. "Thandor fought with the King for a long time. In the end, he failed to slay the monster and ran away, leaving all the Proven in the cathedral."

She attempted to scoff, but the mere action caused her pain, so she didn't.

"With the disappearance of their leader, the Proven panicked and began to attack even more fiercely."

With a shaky hand, she took the withered flower from her ear and stared at it for a few silent seconds.

"At some point, I was forced to keep the King at bay since it wanted to go to you… The flower you gave me saved me."

Blinking slowly, Azrael gazed past her into the ruins, waiting for Logan or any of the other healers to come to aid them.

"Logan is dead."

However, the next second, Seraphina shattered any hope.

"As well as all the healers."

Her fists clenched slowly.

"All the Proven."

Isolde, next to her, coughed blood but remained unmoving. She wasn't even able to form any kind of mental connection.

"The only reason we, and a few other Marked, managed to escape," Seraphina continued. "Was because the King's attention shifted to the Queen."

Azrael struggled to follow her words; the Corruption in his body was spreading uncontrollably. Usually, that wouldn't pose a problem; that was just part of Raking up. However, with a battered body like his own, there was the danger of losing himself.

It seemed that Seraphina sensed something was amiss with him. As such, she used her arms to slowly crawl towards him.

Once she reached him, she put her palm on his exposed chest.

"What you have done is permanent," she said. "I can't stop you from Raking up. The best I can do is slow it down to delay the pain."

Azrael had no complaints; he nodded slowly. A feeling of ease washed over his figure, reducing the strain on his body significantly. From the looks of it, Seraphina also felt better; her breathing grew more relaxed.

"Thank you." She whispered. "For all you have done. Once we are out of here, don't hesitate to reach me for support. Isolde and I will make our clan aid you should you need assistance in the future."

'Sounds nice,' Azrael thought. He would need all the help he could get. After all, he had sworn that once he returned, he would skin alive those who had attacked the Moon Breakers—those who had forced him to enter the Rift unprepared.

The ones responsible for Champion Frederick's demise.

A second later the system words echoed in their heads.

[The Rift has been severed.]

The scorched building began to shake before collapsing into rubble. The Calamities had arrived, bringing their domains with them. Now it was time to deliver their full might upon the Ruined Kingdom.

[The connection has been severed.]

From one side, boiling lava filled the kingdom; from the other, an endless storm.

[You have shown your devotion.]

The bodies of all alive Marked began to glow with blinding light.

[You are Marked no more.]

The last thing Azrael saw before being sent back was Seraphina's face.

[From today onwards, you shall be known as Proven.]

The bodies of the Marked disappeared in a flash, leaving Thandor, along with the few other Proven who had survived the aftermath, to fend for themselves in the cursed lands.

[Ascension commencing…]

[End of volume two: The Ashen Lands]