The Fallen Fantasy: The First Arc

Chapter 47: The Fallen 10 Gathering.

A new day dawned at the Celestial Palace, and Azael, wrapped in a towel, made his way to a lavish bath on the lower floor. As he removed the towel and stepped into the warm water, he sighed, grateful that his arm, though once severed, had fully healed. While he couldn't regenerate like a demon, the wound no longer troubled him. He leaned back to relax—only to realize, with a start, that he was not alone.

To his right, Inara sat submerged in the bath, her cheeks flushed in shock as she noticed him. The sudden intrusion left her both mortified and outraged. She shrieked his name, her face turning crimson. Azael, stunned, barely had time to react before she shoved his head underwater, yelling, "Don't look!" In her flustered state, she didn't notice she was practically drowning him, unintentionally exposing more of herself to his view.

Time passed, and they sat facing away from each other in awkward silence. Inara's embarrassment lingered, while Azael, still coughing slightly from the unintended dunking, tried his best to ignore the awkwardness.

Inara sighed, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "So... did you notice that a new mark has appeared?" She asked, her voice wavering slightly. It was a simple observation, but her tone hinted at more. Azael picked up on it, yet chose to answer anyway.

"Yeah," he replied, glancing at his arm. "It's different from the mark you gave me, but... yeah, I did notice. And honestly? I actually kind of like it."

Inara's blush deepened as she turned slightly, hiding a small smile, her previous frustration softening in the quiet moment they shared.

Inara spoke with a warm conviction, her gaze steady on Azael. "Those two marks symbolize great power, Azael," she said, her voice laced with encouragement. "You just need to get stronger. Follow my teachings, and you'll be able to unlock all your hidden abilities."

Azael nodded, though a hint of doubt flickered in his eyes. "Yeah, I need a new vision to help me forge a sword for myself. But... I don't think I'm ready just yet."

Inara's eyes softened. "Just remember what truly makes you a swordsman."

Azael's expression brightened, and he chuckled. "You know what? You're amazing, Inara."

Inara's breath caught as a blush crept across her cheeks, surprised at his straightforward words.

Azael laughed a little, his voice dropping with sincerity. "With you by my side, I know..." He turned toward her, his eyes full of determination, and she found herself mirroring his movement, drawn to him. "I know I'll get stronger, ya know?" he said, a bright, hopeful smile lighting up his face.

Inara's initial embarrassment melted away, replaced by a quiet comfort. She felt the warmth of his words and sensed the depth of his admiration. But even more, she felt her own heart stir, realizing how much his strength and that radiant smile meant to her.

In a distant world perched on the edge of the Universal Tree, a once-thriving realm of powerful mortals now lies in desolation. This was a world of high-tech sanctuaries and stunning advancements, but it is now reduced to ruins. Buildings have crumbled, streets lie in shattered disarray, and only a handful of survivors cling to life amid the devastation. The military struggles valiantly against an unknown force, believing they face an invasion from another world. But their true adversary isn't an army—it's one man.

He sits atop a broken tower, surveying the world he's brought to ruin. Dressed in black leather jeans and a matching jacket, he wears no shirt, revealing scarred skin marked with three dark tattoos: a jagged black lightning bolt, a stark reminder of Zeus, his first formidable victim; a black trident for Poseidon, his next conquest; and finally, a sun symbol, representing the former Celestial of the Sun. These tattoos memorialize the mightiest beings he's defeated.