I'm The Devil - Chapter 272

Chapter 272: Angel Of Death 2

“Is I, brother.”

Lucifer slowly turned, his piercing gaze meeting the one figure he had fully expected to show up at such a moment. A slow, knowing smile crept across his lips. Before him stood Azrael, the Angel of Death, cloaked in shadows that seemed to move with an unnatural fluidity around him. His tall, lean frame was shrouded in a dark, ethereal robe, its edges whispering like the wind, and his eyes—deep, endless voids—seemed to peer directly into one’s soul.

“Good to see you, brother,” Lucifer drawled, leaning back with a mocking grin. “Or should I say, Lady Death?” His voice dripped with amusement, but his eyes glinted with the desire to provoke.

Azrael’s expression darkened instantly, a low sigh escaping him as the light around him flickered. “Oh, please, brother,” Azrael said in a tone both soft and menacing, the air growing colder as he spoke. “We both know I prefer Lord Death.”

With a sharp crack, a massive scythe materialized in his hand, the blade shimmering with an otherworldly gleam. Its curved edge, impossibly sharp, glinted in the fading sunlight, and the weight of its presence caused the shadows around them to deepen. Azrael twirled it lightly, though there was nothing casual about the deadly intent radiating from the weapon. His grip tightened, a silent warning that one more word could tip the balance.

Lucifer’s gaze flickered to the scythe, his usual confidence momentarily replaced by a flash of wariness. He knew well that while the blade couldn’t end him, the damage it could cause would be far from pleasant. And Lucifer, for all his bravado, had no intention of inviting such an outcome.

“Come on, man,” Lucifer said with a dramatic wave of his hand, attempting to defuse the tension. His grin softened, though his eyes retained their mischief. “I was joking. No need to get all serious on me.”

As he spoke, Lucifer moved as though preparing to sit on the ground, but before his body could touch the earth, a miniature throne materialized beneath him. The throne was black, adorned with intricate carvings of serpents and twisted flames, its surface smooth like obsidian. He reclined into it with a relaxed, almost regal air, crossing his legs as if the entire world were his personal playground.

Azrael, with a roll of his eyes, did the same. A throne of his own manifested beside Lucifer, but unlike his brother’s dark, twisted creation, Azrael’s was a cold, silver construct, ethereal in form and almost translucent. It pulsed with an eerie light, like moonlight reflected off still water, and seemed to be made of shifting mist. He settled into it, the scythe now resting across his lap, though his fingers drummed idly on its hilt, a silent reminder of the power he wielded.

Azrael’s expression softened, but only just, his gaze fixed on Lucifer’s ever-smirking face. “Alright, then,” he said, his tone resigned but still carrying that haunting echo. “Let it out. Ask your question, brother. I know you’re dying to know why I’m here.” His gaze grew sharp again, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. He had expected Lucifer’s curiosity to bubble over by now.

Lucifer’s grin widened, leaning forward slightly on his throne, clearly enjoying the dynamic of their encounter. “Oh, I have many questions, dear Azrael,” he said with a purr, tapping his chin theatrically. “But first, let me guess. It’s that time again, isn’t it? The grand exodus, the final act before the mortals get their taste of divine wrath. And you’re here to… supervise?”

Azrael didn’t react outwardly, but there was a flicker in his eyes, a barely perceptible shift that Lucifer immediately caught. “Am I close?” Lucifer teased, knowing he’d hit the mark.

Azrael exhaled deeply, his fingers still gently brushing the edge of his scythe. “Yes,” he said simply. His voice was calm, though it held a weight of responsibility that Lucifer never could quite understand. “The time has come. The final plague is at hand, and I am here to see it through.”

Lucifer clapped his hands together slowly, mocking admiration filling his voice. “Bravo! The Angel of Death himself, sent to carry out the Lord’s will. How… poetic.”

Azrael’s gaze sharpened. “You mock, but you know the significance of what’s happening here, Lucifer. The Lord’s plan is in motion, and once this plague descends, Egypt will never be the same.”

Lucifer tilted his head, his grin fading slightly as he considered Azrael’s words. “And what of you, brother? Do you ever tire of being the instrument of death? Of carrying out such cold, unfeeling orders?” His voice dropped, turning more thoughtful, almost probing. “Surely, even you must feel something about all this.”

Azrael’s eyes flickered again, but his face remained impassive. “What I feel is irrelevant. I serve the will of the Creator. It is not my place to question. It never has been.”

Lucifer’s smirk returned, though it carried a hint of bitterness this time. “That’s always been the difference between us, Azrael. You follow orders. I make my own path. You and Michael—ever the dutiful sons, ever the obedient tools.”

Azrael’s fingers tightened around the scythe once more, the slightest flicker of frustration crossing his otherwise stoic face. “This is not a debate, Lucifer. I did not come here to justify myself to you.”

“No, you came here to do what you always do,” Lucifer said, standing abruptly from his throne, the shadows seeming to ripple with his movement. “To carry out a sentence. But while you’re busy with your duties, I think I’ll enjoy the show from a different perspective.”

Azrael’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing. “And what does that mean, Lucifer?”

Lucifer chuckled, stepping closer to his brother. “Oh, nothing much,” he said, his voice low and dripping with amusement. “Just that I think it’s time I took a more hands-on approach with these mortals. After all, you’re not the only one with a part to play in this grand drama.”

Azrael remained still, his scythe glowing faintly in the fading light. “You know better than to interfere. This is not your place.”

Lucifer stopped, his grin now wicked and wide. “When has that ever stopped me?”

The two brothers stood in silence for a moment, the tension thick between them, their eternal conflict simmering just below the surface. Finally, Azrael sighed, standing as well. “You will do what you always do, Lucifer. But remember, the consequences will be yours to bear.”

Lucifer laughed again, a sharp, echoing sound that rang through the air. “Consequences, dear brother? That’s the fun part.”

With that, Lucifer turned, his form dissolving into shadow as he disappeared into the night, leaving Azrael alone on the rooftop, his expression unreadable as he stared after his brother.