Night crept across the skyline like spilled ink. Neon lights painted the streets in broken halos of color — blue, gold, and crimson bleeding into the wet asphalt.
Azrael stood on the rooftop of an abandoned shopping center, staring down at the city's pulse below. Cars glided through the rain, people rushed with umbrellas, unaware that something ancient had already begun to stir beneath their feet.
Faith — still in her sleek black cat form — perched beside him, her tail twitching.
"You've been staring for an hour," she said dryly. "What are you brooding about this time? Existential dread? Human traffic lights?"
Azrael didn't look at her. "The city's energy is shifting."
"Maybe it's the coffee you had," Faith muttered.
He ignored her and extended his senses.
The world dimmed. The hum of human noise vanished.
And there — beneath the city — a pulse. Not divine, not demonic, but something in between.
A resonance corrupted by mortal emotion.
> [System Notification]
Warning: Unstable Divine Field Detected — Source: Human Host(s)
Azrael's eyes narrowed. "Faith, call Mira. Tell her to stay inside."
Faith blinked. "What's happening?"
His voice turned cold. "Someone is turning humans into vessels."
---
Meanwhile — Mira's Apartment
Mira sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through her phone when the lights flickered.
Outside, thunder growled, but it didn't sound natural.
She looked up — and saw the clock on the wall stop ticking.
Then, faint whispers echoed from the kitchen — dozens of overlapping voices.
Her breath caught.
"M-Maybe it's Faith being weird again…" she muttered.
When she turned, she froze.
A man was standing in the corner of the room — his skin pale, eyes glowing faint gold, veins crawling like threads of light beneath the surface. He looked human, but his smile was wrong — stretched too wide.
> "He calls to us…" the man whispered. "The Fallen… his divinity burns in our dreams."
Mira stumbled back, reaching for the lamp — and hurled it at him. It passed through his body like smoke.
Suddenly, the window shattered — and Azrael appeared, landing silently between them, one hand glowing with Mystic Light.
---
The man screeched — his voice splitting into dozens of tones.
Azrael's expression didn't change. "He's been touched by a divine echo."
He raised his hand, palm open.
"Mystic Light: Purge."
Light erupted from his palm — pure, burning radiance, filling the entire room.
When it faded, the man was gone. Only a faint mark of ash remained on the floor, glowing faintly.
Mira's knees gave out. She sank onto the couch, shaking. "What… what was that?"
Azrael glanced around, scanning the air. "Someone or something is mimicking divine energy — corrupting it."
Faith materialized beside them in her human form, golden eyes sharp.
"That's not possible unless…"
Azrael finished the sentence quietly.
"…a god is interfering."
---
The Next Morning — City of Valesh High District
The streets were eerily calm. News of "light anomalies" had spread overnight. Several people were found unconscious with faint halos above their heads. The authorities called it mass hysteria.
Azrael, Mira, and Faith sat at a café across from the police barricades.
Mira stirred her drink absently. "You know, I never thought my life would involve dodging possessed accountants."
Faith smirked. "Welcome to celestial life."
Azrael said nothing, his gaze fixed on a nearby alleyway.
A child was standing there — no older than ten — holding a small sphere of glowing light. It pulsed faintly in her hands.
Azrael froze. He could feel it.
A fragment of divinity.
He stood slowly.
"Stay here."
"Wait—Azrael!" Mira reached for him, but he was already gone.
He knelt before the girl, his aura dimmed so as not to scare her. "Where did you get that?" he asked softly.
The child blinked, innocent. "The man in white gave it to me. He said I'd see angels."
Azrael's chest tightened. "What did he look like?"
She tilted her head. "He looked like you."
For the first time, something like fear crossed his face.
Faith's voice echoed through his mind.
> Azrael, the corruption's spreading. This isn't random.
He clenched his fist. "No… someone is using my fallen divinity as bait."
---
Nightfall — The Abandoned Cathedral
The old church loomed at the edge of the city. Its stained glass windows were cracked, the bell tower leaning slightly. Yet, the air around it shimmered faintly — divine energy mixed with something darker.
Azrael stepped inside.
Hundreds of candles burned in silence, though no one had lit them.
And at the altar stood a man in white — the same face as Azrael.
> "You came," the doppelgänger said softly.
"Who are you?"
"A mirror. A fragment. The part of you that wanted to be god again."
Azrael's eyes narrowed. "Impossible."
The clone smiled. "You shed your divinity when you fell. But not all of it was lost. I found what you left behind — and now, it's mine."
The walls began to tremble. Candles flickered out, one by one.
Outside, the bells tolled — though no wind stirred.
Faith's voice cut through his thoughts.
> Azrael, the system is going insane — this isn't a human echo, it's a divine backlash!
Azrael drew his blade of light — a pure streak of mystic energy. "Then I'll reclaim what's mine."
The air cracked open. The clone moved first — vanishing, reappearing behind him, striking with a glowing blade of gold.
Azrael blocked with his forearm, the impact throwing both of them across the hall.
Each strike bent space itself — pillars shattered, sound warped, light bent into spirals.
> "You don't deserve what you were," the clone hissed.
"And you don't understand what you're wielding," Azrael snapped back.
He blinked — disappearing mid-motion, appearing behind his counterpart. A flash of Mystic Light split the floor, carving a scar through the marble.
The clone countered by freezing time — for a moment.
But Azrael had learned from Kronos's fragment.
He rewound his own last second, reversing the blow, and drove his palm into the clone's chest.
The cathedral exploded in a bloom of silver fire.
When the smoke cleared, the clone was kneeling — fading into light.
"You can't escape what you are…" it whispered before vanishing completely.
---
Aftermath — Rooftop Dawn
Azrael stood at the edge of the roof, watching the sun rise over the wounded city. Mira joined him quietly, a blanket draped over her shoulders.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
He didn't answer right away. "He was me. A part of me that wanted power."
Mira's hand brushed against his. "Then it's a good thing you're still you."
Faith yawned from a railing nearby. "Well, at least the world didn't end again. Progress."
Azrael looked out over the city — his voice low, thoughtful.
"This world is shifting faster than I thought. Someone is watching. Moving pieces in the dark."
Mira smiled faintly. "Then let's make sure we're not pawns."