The Fallen Fantasy: The First Arc

Chapter 1: My Name Is Azael of Whirlwind And This Is My Story.

Prologue:

The 7th divine war, a war fought by the angels, led by the Archangel of God, Michael, the demons led by the 7 demon lords, Lucifer of Pride, Beelzebub of gluttony, Satan of Wrath, Leviathan of Envy, Asmodeus of Lust, Belpheghor of Sloth, and Mammon of Greed and now, lastly, the fallen angels led by the former king of the Underworld, Azazel of Whirlwind. This war has carried it out for over 9 thousand years now, and it is still fought until today.

*In the fallen world's fallen institute.*

Azazel is in his study, his study is a grand, high-ceilinged chamber deep within the Fallen Institute, its walls lined with towering shelves of ancient, leather-bound tomes and strange, glowing artifacts. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, smoke, and a hint of brimstone. At the room's center stood an enormous, ornate desk, its surface crafted from a single piece of polished black stone, adorned with intricate, silver runes that seemed to shimmer in the dim light.

Behind the desk, a massive, throne-like chair loomed, its back carved with the image of a whirlwind, symbolizing Azazel's power and dominion. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the history of the fallen angels, their battles, and their conquests. Flickering candelabras cast eerie shadows, making the room feel like a throne room, a sanctuary, and a fortress all at once.

Azazel's presence was palpable, his dark, commanding energy infusing every aspect of the study. This was the lair of a being who saw himself as a deity, a ruler of the fallen, and a force to be reckoned with.

His right hand, Belial is by his side as Azazel's 8 year old son, Azael, our main character is standing before his father, ready to receive his first order to his first mission as not only a fallen angel, but also as the son of Whirlwind.

Azazel: My son, as the son of Whirlwind, I now give you a mission.

Azael: Yes, father.

Azazel: As you well know, we're at a war with both the Heavens and the Demon World. We need to focus on eliminating the easy target, and that is... eliminating the 7 demon lords.

Azael's heart raced with excitement as Azazel spoke. Pride and determination surged through him, his eyes burning with intensity. He felt an electric thrill, his mind racing with strategies and conquests. For a moment, youthful enthusiasm threatened to overwhelm him, but he channeled it into a fierce focus. He would not fail. He would show no mercy.

Azazel: Do you have any questions?

Azael: Just one.

Azazel: You may ask.

Azael: Will I get to say die?

Azazel: Yes, you will.

Azael: [Smirks] No further questions, father.

Azazel: You may be dismissed. Your mission begins by tomorrow.

Time passes, and Azael is in his room sharpening his sword, the sword he forged with his darkness. Azael's focus was laser-sharp as he sharpened his sword with precise strokes. Sweat beaded on his brow, but his grip remained unwavering.

Time lost meaning as he honed his weapon, his thoughts consumed by the mission ahead. He was one with his sword, his darkness, and his destiny. Azael's dark magic ability allows him to forge weapons of any kind, but he hasn't fully tapped into the true power of his magical ability, he calls, dark forge. His older brother, Dusk of Whirlwind, who's 35 years old, but looks 19, walks into Azael's room.

Dusk: I heard about your first mission, little brother. Congratulations.

Azael: [smirking] Thanks. I'm going to make Father proud.