Azanor knew what it was like to feel hopeless, what it was like to feel at the top of the world, and what it was like to feel loved. He had not thought much of eating souls, it was means to gain power… And he did not see mortals as his equal… At least not at first.

He knew he was different from other Demons his whole life, after all, he was someone related to the first Demon King, the very creator of the Abyss, the purest of pure Demon bloods. It made sense his brother Velron and him were special. Unlike with his sister, Rune, who was born from a simple concubine, Velron and Azanor were born from the same mother. The Queen with blood second in pureness only to their father.

Despite the fact they were Demons and they were competing for the throne, Azanor and Velron were close. They looked for souls together, they tormented mortals together… They were inseparable. Their rivalry seemed to only deepen their brotherly connection… But… As time passed, their differences only grew all the more clearer.

Velron was the only Wrath Demon. To gain the strength that Azanor gained from 1 soul… Velron needed to eat 100 sometimes even 1,000 souls. Unlike Azanor though, Velron would soon discover that he didn’t need to make a deal with a mortal to eat their soul… He could just take what he wanted…

Of course, not wanting to be left in the dust… And knowing the only way for a Demon to grow stronger was to eat souls… Azanor in turn continued to make deal after deal… Until one day… Azanor could no longer recognize himself. He was drowning in the sea of memories that he consumed… Was he even Azanor? Who is Azanor? Was he the friendly neighborhood baker that would do anything to lift his family from poverty? Or maybe the wondering Adventurer that wanted to master the sword at any cost?

He honestly didn’t know.

Azanor was disgusted… At the end of the day, he was Demon that thrived from stealing from others… He didn’t bring anyone permanent happiness, he only stole. As a Demon he could not do anything other than steal. He was a Monster… One that scared even himself.

Azanor found himself unable to cope with the situation. He was disgusted with himself, his brother who stole souls without even attempting to give anything in return…

He gave up on ever becoming Demon King, he didn’t want it. At first he was lost… Until he met the love of his life… With her he was able to feel like a person… More than just a beast. She taught him many things… After all, she was something with the potential to be so much more frightening than he could ever be… Yet that did not define who she was… And she made sure he understood that what he was did not define him…

He was in Heaven… At least the closest thing to that a Demon could ever get, after all, he did not have a soul of his own. Something every other type of being had.

The more he lived among mortals the more he realized he had to stop his brother from doing what he pleased… And he paid a heavy price for it and was betrayed heavily by his friends in the process.

Lies… Eating Souls… It wasn’t who he wanted to be…

Finally, Azanor had gotten friends that understood him, that he didn’t have to use sarcasm to keep them at a distance… Friends he wanted to protect… Friends that promised to save the world from his brother… But the appeal of darkness is an immense one… And the power to protect came with a price… First it was Kazius… Their emotional support… Then Damon and Alice… They too lost part of themselves once Kazius changed.

Then there was his wife… Eve… He loved her more than anything in their world, she was no longer the Eve he knew… Yet he at least had her by his side… Despite failing to protect her once before.

Yet even now… He was weak.

He nearly lost her again… And his friends as well… In fact due to his weakness he could not protect his oldest friend.

He spoke of becoming terrible along with his friends… In order to gain the power to protect… Yet weak he remained… Azanor was not paying his fair share of the price… And if this continued, it was only a matter of time before he lost truly everything.

So, with permission of his new King… And friend… Azanor traveled to Zelphar with Eve and Rowan… Reconnaissance was easy… But what he actually came here to do was not.

Rowan tried talking him out of it… And even Eve could tell something was wrong… But… That wouldn’t stop him… Not now, not in a Kingdom that was made due to his own cowardice and mistakes…

At the end of the day… Azanor was a Demon… And he could only gain power by stealing from others.

And steal he would.

….

….

“I’m sorry.” Azanor would mutter, the sound of blood dripping to the floor was audible as he impaled the elf’s chest. A disgusting squelch could be heard as he removed his hand from the wound, the body collapsing loudly before he reached for it with his bloodied hand. “I kept my promise… Didn’t I? The deal we made was fair… I didn’t trick you… I only told the truth… So please… Please forgive me…” Azanor muttered more to himself than the soul, his crimson eyes glowing in the darkness along with the glowing blue soul in his hand. With that, he would place the orb in his mouth, swallowing it hole. He shook, his face contorting in agony as new memories flooded him.

By the time it subsided Azanor was left with his shoulders quivering and shaking, tears silently streaming down his cheeks. “No… That… That won’t be enough… I need… More…”