Azriel had been through a lot.
From the fragmented memories of his past to the void dungeon incident. From realizing—no, accepting—that he was created solely for destruction. His entire life had been a lie, and worse still, he was the reason for his own family's death. His world had crumbled, everything he thought he knew flipped upside down.
So many lies. All aimed at him.
And all of it by his own hands.
In countless timelines, Azriel had descended into madness, trapped in an unending cycle of despair.
Stuck in an endless loop that refused to end.
His future self—[Redo]—was an evolved version, one that had exchanged its very soul in the process. Azriel had no way of knowing if his current [Redo] was the same. But he did know one thing: death wouldn't bring an escape. There was no closure, no finality—just the endless loop, forcing him to live through it all over again, with no memories to protect him.
Because, who was to say that Azriel could influence his past self's actions like the others?
And even if he could—did he want to?
He was the product of countless trials, failures, and utter surrender. His other versions had given up, settling for letting the world burn before they grew attached to anything.
Of course, that hadn't worked either.
Azriel wasn't willing to play that game. He couldn't stomach the thought of destroying the world, killing everyone, or embracing the role of a villain.
But then again, he didn't know what his other selves had endured. How much they'd suffered, despaired, or fallen into hopelessness. How their agony had birthed an unending cycle of torment.
An endless loop of death.
But Azriel didn't care about their despair anymore.
He wanted to survive.
He didn't want to die—not now, not ever.
Death wouldn't free him. It would only rewind the loop and trap him again.
And then there was the question that gnawed at the edges of his sanity:
'If I die naturally, does [Redo] still trigger?'
[Redo] wasn't a blessing—it was a curse.
A curse Azriel needed to break.
He had to find a way to shatter [Redo], to avoid the fate of his other selves, and to push forward without falling into despair. He had to find an end—whatever that might mean.
His future self had claimed that this world wasn't a book, but he'd also said that Azriel was fated to be dragged into its pages.
So, what was the end?
Azriel knew one thing for certain.
At the end of it all, the God of Death would be waiting for him.
Proof of that was in the words she had spoken back at the underground coliseum... and in his status update.
She was telling him, in her own way, that she was there.
And that she had chosen him.
He was not alone. He never had been.
Perhaps that was the truth his other selves had failed to realize.
Now, Azriel had three goals.
For once, live his life.
Up until now, every one of Azriel's actions was... scripted. Predictable. Programmed.
Had he truly been alive?
No. He hadn't lived. He'd merely been running.
Running from one problem to the next.
That was going to change.
He would not cry. He would not suffer.
Azriel was going to live.
Opening and closing the rift, Jasmine, Azriel, and Nol found themselves back in the room where Azriel had been lying unconscious when Joaquin discovered he'd fallen into a coma.
Jasmine and Nol wore freshly cleaned versions of their crimson military uniforms, far removed from the battered ones they'd arrived in when they reached the Sunken Islands. Azriel, however, still wore a simple jogger and t-shirt.
Because he felt like it.
There was no practical benefit to wearing anything else. In fact, such clothes would only hinder him if he had to fight.
And now that he had Soul Armor, the idea of layering anything cumbersome beneath it felt outright irritating.
"Are you sure you're alright? No one knows you were in a coma, or that you're awake now, except us. Maybe you should rest a bit longer?" Jasmine's voice was tinged with concern as she clung to his arm, refusing to let go, as if he might disappear at any moment.
Azriel smiled gently at her.
"You worry too much, sis. It was just a small headache."
Jasmine pursed her lips, clearly unconvinced. Her expression said as much.
"Well, Her Highness has a point, Master," Nol chimed in, his tone nonchalant.
"It's not like we can go anywhere until His Majesty returns. Unless, of course, you'd like to play 'defend the castle.' There's no real point in showing your face to those peasants."
Ignoring the last part of Nol's comment, Azriel shook his head.
"I'm going to meet them, actually. But the reason I wanted to come here is… different."
Both Jasmine and Nol frowned, their confusion evident.
Azriel turned to Jasmine, his voice soft.
"Can you please let go of me? I need to do something."
She stared at him with narrowed eyes, her grip firm, as if testing his resolve. To anyone else, Jasmine might seem overly protective. But to Azriel, her actions were understandable.
She'd already told him, more than once, that stepping into the Void Realm after spending two years trapped there was a reckless decision unless he was prepared. And now, after his coma, her beliefs only seemed more justified.
Still, Azriel didn't mind her protectiveness.
After a few tense seconds, Jasmine sighed and relented, stepping back. Nol followed suit, though both continued watching him with curious, wary eyes.
Azriel exhaled deeply, focusing his gaze on his left palm.
'Just channel mana, right?'
He followed the instruction.
As he did, a tiny black star shimmered into existence on his palm.
Azriel didn't stop there, pouring more of his mana into the star.
"What is that…?" Jasmine's sharp voice broke the silence, her eyes narrowing as she examined the star with suspicion.
Nol, standing nearby, tensed as well, his expression dark. The mark on Azriel's hand looked... unnatural. Dangerous, even.
What if it's a curse?
But despite their reservations, they trusted the sixteen-year-old boy who had just woken from a coma to do something, once again, utterly reckless.
Azriel's lips tightened as he stared at the black star, frustration growing.
The desperation on his face only deepened the concern in Jasmine and Nol's expressions.
Then, the atmosphere in the room shifted.
The mana in the air stirred violently, swirling in a sudden, chaotic flux.
In the blink of an eye, someone appeared between Azriel, Jasmine, and Nol.
All three froze in shock.
The newcomer, a little girl with hair black as onyx and eyes as pure and golden as the sun, stared back at them, equally stunned.
Her trembling gaze locked onto Azriel.
Azriel quickly overcame his initial shock at her sudden appearance. He approached the little girl and crouched down before her, a warm smile gracing his lips.
"It's me, Iryndra. It's been a while, hasn't it? I'm sorry I kept you waiting for so long..."
Despite his smile, his eyes betrayed the guilt weighing on him.
And that guilt was real.
Azriel had lied to her. Worse, he had used her back at the facility, consumed by his own emotions. He hadn't been thinking clearly back then. But even in his desperation, he had been serious about one thing:
That promise mattered to him. It still did.
Iryndra, however, said nothing. Her wide, trembling eyes remained fixed on him, tears forming as if they couldn't be held back any longer.
"M-Mister... is it really you? Your face... but... no... the mark... how...?"
Azriel had no plan, no carefully thought-out words. He had called her the moment he got the chance, acting purely on impulse.
His expression grew complicated as he responded.
"A lot has happened since that day... but I made it out alive. I'm sorry it took me so long. I'll explain everything to you later. I promise."
For a few seconds, she continued to stare at him silently. Then her gaze dropped, and her shoulders quivered.
The tears came fast, streaming down her face as she sobbed, her voice breaking.
"Y-you know how long I waited...? I-I thought you were dead, Mister! I kept waiting... I never left the cottage since that day!"
Azriel froze. Her words hit him harder than any blow.
'All this time… she stayed in that cottage?'
Why hadn't she moved on?
Unlike him, she hadn't been consumed by a whirlwind of emotions. Or… had she? Was her longing for a family that overwhelming? Was she, too, trapped by desire and hope?
No, this wasn't simple longing. She had been consumed—by emotions, by yearning, by the aching need for someone to call her own.
Biting his lip, Azriel didn't hesitate. He pulled the little girl into his arms. She yelped, startled, but within seconds, her tiny frame relaxed, and she clung to him. Her sobs softened, turning into silent cries as she buried her face in his chest.
Azriel said nothing. He simply held her close, gently stroking her hair, offering the comfort she'd long been denied.
Jasmine and Nol watched the scene unfold, their expressions a blend of emotions. They had so many questions—an overwhelming number, really. But for now, they remained silent.
At first, both had been ready to strike the girl down on the spot. After all, they were in the Void Realm, and a child suddenly teleporting into their midst was cause for alarm.
But as they observed the interaction between Azriel and Iryndra, they realized this situation was far more intricate than any simple threat.
After a few quiet minutes, Azriel broke the silence, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
"Didn't you say back then that you didn't believe I was a prince?"
Iryndra stiffened in his arms, her muffled voice reaching his ears.
"N-no... you're imagining things, Mister..."
Azriel narrowed his eyes.
She quickly staggered back, leaving his embrace, and stared at him with an expression that Azriel couldn't help but find adorable. Her lively face and wide, sparkling eyes were a refreshing sight after everything he'd endured.
Her gaze darted to his features, those golden eyes of hers widening in astonishment.
"M-Mister... you... are you really are a prince?"
"Of course. So, how does it feel knowing you're basically a princess now?"