Heavenly Opposers-Chapter 285 - 284-Deals Made With Consequences

As dusk painted the All-Realm in hues of deep purple and fiery crimson, Azrail couldn’t help but feel the weight of the day’s dealings pressing on him. Azrail had dealt with a lot of people balancing power, persuasion, and subtle intimidation, things he had to use to acquire the power he needed.

Today, however, wasn’t just another step on his path. There was one meeting that stood out, one that had been bugging his mind since the morning, this was quite an important meeting he was going to, and a powerful man can’t simply be messed around with, one issue with him and things would go to shit.

As he strode through the streets of the Undermarket, the world above began to blur into a dream. The Undermarket was a place few dared to go unless they had no other choice, a hidden district that lay beneath the wide All-Realm, filled in darkness and danger. Here, there were no laws, no order, only power and the lengths one would go to wield it. It was a fitting place for the Infernal Syndicate to call home.

From the outside, the Syndicate’s lair appeared unremarkable—just another building among the countless abandoned warehouses and shops in this forsaken part of the realm. But Azrail knew better. Behind that simple facade lurked one of the most dangerous and ruthless organisations in the entire All-Realm, an empire of demons and dark entities who dealt in death, despair, and chaos. It was their control over the Flow—the underground channels that moved forbidden goods and information—that had drawn Azrail here.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of sulfur and smoke, as though the very walls had been scorched by demonic flames. Eryx, the Syndicate’s top lieutenant, awaited him, lounging lazily in a leather chair. His sharp, jagged grin stretched across his face as soon as he saw Azrail enter.

"Ah, if it isn’t the famous Dreadcloaks," Eryx purred, his voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. The demon’s fiery red eyes gleamed with malice. "Come to strike a deal with the devil, have you?"

Azrail remained composed, a picture of calm even as the demon’s eyes scanned him, probing for weakness. "I’m not here for theatrics, Eryx. I’m here to collect what’s owed."

A slow, mocking chuckle escaped Eryx’s throat. "Ah yes, the debt to Nayan." He ran his tongue over his sharp teeth. "He always has a way of getting what he wants. Pity he’s not here to demand it himself. So, tell me, Azrail, why should we even consider repaying a debt when the Syndicate doesn’t follow the same rules as everyone else?"

Azrail’s gaze never wavered. "Because I know what you need. I know what your bosses are after, and I can give it to them. You control the Flow, and I want in. In return, I can offer you the perfect opportunity—chaos."

For the first time, the playful menace in Eryx’s eyes shifted. He tilted his head, curiosity gleaming beneath his cruel smile. "Chaos, you say? That’s a mighty big promise. Care to elaborate?"

Azrail stepped closer, his voice low but firm. "I have information about the upcoming moves within the Cosmic Fighters Association. There are key figures about to rise, pivotal players whose actions will shift the balance of power. With the right nudge in the right direction, we can bring entire factions crumbling down. Alliances will be shattered, and in the confusion, the Syndicate can expand its influence—unnoticed."

Eryx leaned back in his chair, the flicker of interest now fully ignited. For all his bravado, Azrail could see the gears turning in the demon’s mind. The prospect of such widespread chaos, the potential to slip into the cracks of a crumbling political order—it was the kind of opportunity the Syndicate craved.

"And in return for all this...," Eryx said slowly, his grin widening again. "What exactly do you want?"

"I want unrestricted access to the Flow," Azrail replied without hesitation. "I need to move goods and people across the All-Realm without interference. You let me use your channels, and in return, I give you everything you need to expand your reach."

For a long moment, Eryx was silent, his eyes narrowing as he studied Azrail. The room felt colder, the oppressive weight of the Syndicate’s presence pressing in on them both. Finally, Eryx let out a low, rumbling laugh.

"Bold," he said, his forked tongue flicking out once more. "Very bold, Dreadcloaks. I’ll take your offer to the bosses. But understand this, Azrail—if we agree to this, you will owe us. And trust me, the Syndicate always collects what’s due."

Azrail nodded, undeterred. "I’m aware of the risks. But I’m also aware of the rewards."

As he turned to leave, the demon’s laughter echoed in his ears, a sound that would have unsettled most men. But not Azrail. He had been in this game long enough to know that every deal came with strings attached, and he was more than prepared to play the hand he had been dealt.

Stepping back into the cool night air, Azrail felt a sense of easy satisfaction. He had taken a dangerous step, but it was one that could open doors he had only glimpsed before. The Flow was now within his reach and, with it, the power to move unseen, to operate in the shadows where even the gods could not see.

But such power came at a price. Azrail had forged an alliance with devils, and that was never a clean transaction. He knew the Syndicate would eventually come to collect. But for now, he needed to focus on the present—on consolidating his position and furthering his influence within the All-Realm.

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Later that evening, Azrail returned to his quarters, a luxurious but sparse room situated in one of the highest towers of the city. His thoughts whirled with the day’s events, the new alliances he had forged, and the old debts he had called in.

DeathMark’s rise through the ranks of the Cosmic Fighters Association had been swift, and now the eyes of the majority of the All-Realm were on him. His rise had not gone unnoticed, and where there was attention, enemies were lurking to hunt.

As he stared out of the window at the sprawling city below, Azrail let his mind wander. He had made countless deals with beings far more powerful and far more dangerous than he could ever claim to be. He had allied himself with celestial powers and demonic forces alike, all in the name of one goal—building an empire that would stand the test of time, one that would reach beyond the stars themselves.

But with each new alliance, each new favour called in, the ground beneath his feet grew shakier. The foundations of his empire were strong, but the cracks were already beginning to show. If he wasn’t careful, everything he had worked for could come crashing down, buried beneath the weight of his ambition.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he allowed himself a moment of calm in the chaos. The days ahead would be fraught with danger, with decisions that could either make or break him. He would need to be at his sharpest, always one step ahead, always anticipating the next move.

Azrail wasn’t afraid, though. Fear was a luxury he couldn’t afford. His enemies were many, and they were powerful, but Azrail had something they didn’t—his mind. He was a master strategist, a manipulator of the highest order, and he knew how to turn every situation to his advantage, after all, when he was a nobody, he made the titans take a fall, now, with power and talent, he would make the real fall.

The night deepened, the stars twinkling faintly in the sky, and Azrail finally stood, walking over to the window. The city stretched out before him, a vast sea of lights, where gods, mortals, and monsters all played their parts in the grand game of power. It was a dangerous world, but it was his world. A world where he thrived.