The Flaming Hall blazed with a fierce crimson hue as the meeting continued. Azreal sat on his blackened throne, surrounded by the towering figures of the Pillars. Orvath, Malphas, Laisa, Selmora, Drakos, and the others—all eyes were on Damantia as he finished his report.
"That's all concerning Aria," Damantia said, his voice sharp.
Selmora's gaze narrowed. "If this girl, Aria, bears the God's Mark... and Lord Azreal suspects it's connected to the Infernal Evolution and Y'tharion—doesn't that mean the Gods themselves are involved?"
The hall went dead silent.
Azreal turned his head slowly, his voice like rumbling ash. "Selmora. Mind your tongue."
"Yes, my Lord," she said quickly, bowing her head.
But Dragos grinned. "Since this entire meeting seems to be about Marks—Aria supposedly bearing the Gods' mark, Infernals with Y'tharion's—why are we ignoring the most important one of all?"
Malphas stepped forward. "Dragos, don't cross the line."
"You don't need to dive into that topic," Orvath added sternly. The other Pillars nodded in agreement.
Dragos raised his hands. "I'm just saying what you all are thinking. I'm merely the spokesperson."
He looked toward Azreal and bowed. "My Lord, I want to ask—will you show us your mark? Tell us how you got it? It might be connected to all of this."
Laisa immediately stood. "Lord Azreal doesn't need to prove anything to you."
Azreal raised his hand, silencing them all. Slowly, he rose from his throne. "It's fine. Not showing it will only cause more confusion in Hell."
Laisa bit her lip, whispering in her mind. Why does everyone get to see his body? I don't care about the men—but Selmora? She's always in my way. I'm the only one who should see Lord Azreal ...
Azreal pulled open his coat.
Gasps echoed across the hall.
The mark on his chest was jet-black and ominous. It spiraled outward from a core shaped like a twisted flame. Jagged, claw-like patterns branched from it—like a crown forged from the void. Ancient symbols lined each curve, shifting and writhing if stared at too long. Thin horns arched from the top, and a single teardrop-shaped ember rested at the bottom, like falling ash.
Thin trails of black smoke leaked from its edges, fading into the air.
Azreal closed his coat swiftly. Silence reigned.
Laisa's thoughts spun. I've seen his body before... that mark wasn't there. So why now?
Azreal turned. "You must be confused. Why haven't you seen this mark before?" He paused. "That's because I never showed it. It has been dormant for years."
The hall grew colder.
Dragos stared. "That mark... it's dormant? But it was emitting such intense pressure..." He coughed to hide his unease, though fear danced in his eyes.
In an instant, Azreal vanished.
And reappeared beside Dragos.
Dragos flinched. A patch of his robe hissed, singed by the heat.
"You're still the same..." he muttered. "After all these years, I've never figured out your tricks."
Azreal's hand gripped Dragos's shoulder, firm and unyielding.
"Don't dig into my past," he said coldly. His eyes, burning with restrained fury, locked onto Dragos's.
The smile disappeared from Dragos's face. He swallowed and nodded, stepping back.
"Fine..." he muttered, returning to his seat, his pride smoldering like his robe.
Veymar whispered, "Just what is that mark...?"
Orvath's eyes narrowed. Dragos must have reopened old wounds. That's why Lord Azreal flared up.
Laisa smiled faintly to herself. Even angry... he's still cute.
Dragos sat still, staring at his burnt cloth. Rage twisted across his face as he glared at Azreal.
Azreal stood again. "That's all for the meeting."
The Pillars vanished into shadow.
"Malphas," Azreal said, not turning. "Stay."
Laisa stepped forward. "My Lord, is there something troubling you? Should I stay—"
"No need," Azreal cut her off. "You must be tired. Get some rest ."
Laisa bowed and left, gritting her teeth. Why do you always treat me like your little sister... can't you see my feelings?
Malphas stepped forward. "Yes, my Lord?"
Azreal turned slowly. "I heard Aria was placed in the Infernal Doctrine... at the First Gate."
"No need to explain. I understand what she did." He paused. "Release her. She'll no longer be under the First Gate's command. Bring her to the Royal Palace."
Malphas blinked. "But—"
"That's the end of the discussion."
Azreal's gaze turned cold. "Laisa... how low have you fallen to start spying?"
A presence flickered. Laisa stepped out from the shadows, shocked. How did he know? I erased my presence completely...
Azreal disappeared in a swirl of flames. "Malphas, don't keep me waiting. I'll send Hulk over."
Malphas bowed and vanished, leaving Laisa behind.
She clenched her fists. "Who is this Aria? What is she to Lord Azreal? He's freeing her from the First Gate... bringing her ... to the palace. Is she another obstacle? Another rival? No... I won't let her stand in my way. I'll be the first woman Lord Azreal brings into the Royal Palace... not some lost soul."
A towering fortress forged from ash, molten stone, and burning obsidian. Lava dripped from the cracks in its blackened walls, and a glowing river of fire flowed beside it, feeding into a vast lava pool.
Azreal walked forward, flames licking at his heels.
A man in a black butler's uniform stood by the entrance, bowing deeply. "Long time, my Lord."
He fell into step beside Azreal.
Two maids rushed forward, removing Azreal's giant coat.
"Organize the maids," Azreal said. "Prepare a feast. Ready the rooms."
Fredrick blinked. "Are we expecting a guest?"
Azreal didn't stop walking. "Yes."
He pushed open the giant door and disappeared inside.
Fredrick remained at the entrance, watching.
That guest must be important... Lord Azreal never does this.
Behind him, the maids whispered. Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝓷𝓮𝓽
"Do you think the guest stole Lord Azreal's heart?" one giggled.
Fredrick turned. "What nonsense are you spewing? Do you wish to burn alive?"
They bowed. "Forgive us!"
Fredrick sighed. "I know the Lord. Love? That doesn't exist where he stands. He's the Guardian of Hell. He doesn't need things like that."
He waved them away. "Go. Do your work."
As the maids rushed off, Fredrick turned toward the gate.
"Time to welcome the strange guest who caught Lord Azreal's interest..."