Heavenly Opposers-Chapter 288 - 287-13 Elders.

The announcement was made. The new master, the chosen one carrying the legacy of the ruler, was chosen, and from there, all that was left was to bring back the great power and legacy being held by Oblivion’s Embrace back into the cosmos, to make Eternity’s Requiem great again in the eyes of the various factions that are attacking.

"Now, show me how you will lead everything."

These were the final whispers by Thanatos before he went dark, leaving Azrail under the great pressure around him, the eyes of the elders all focusing around, while the presence of death started to get heavier. Azrail could tell that every one of them is a powerful one that cannot be messed around with at all, monsters at the top of whatever they do.

’And ones that have been holding back their greed till now, I have to be careful of where I step.’

Azrail thought. Oblivion’s Embrace had grown quiet, having given up on the power struggle within Eternity’s Requiem, but that doesn’t mean the members present in it ever wanted to give up on it. They just couldn’t go against the absolute master they served, his warnings a reminder in their ears.

And now came Azrail, which means that the old orders are forgotten, and now the greedy ones, the old bastards that lived for so long that Azrail can’t count yet have greed longer than they have lived, will slowly start to influence him. After all, what better way to affect what they want than controlling the very young new addition to them?

To those old monsters, Azrail will be like a young baby to them. Dealing with him would be more than easy for them, and then their ugly desires would start to take root. But before they do, there is a lot Azrail will have to deal with.

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"What are we waiting for? Isn’t this the time to celebrate!?"

The hearty voice of a man rang out, and along with it came into appearance for Azrail, the elders, the top dogs that hold the positions, their numbers counting up to about 13 of them, all of them appearing around Azrail, ranging from men to women, and all of them of different species and power levels. But what stood out was the fact that all of them were gorgeous, a mortal looking at them would have their mind blown out from their sheer beauty and power.

Even Azrail felt a prickle in his mind as he started to look through the ones gathering in the place. Till the end, though, he didn’t get a look at Thanatos. As Azrail looked forth, seemingly the first elder took the lead. A huge man the size of a bear with a hearty smile walked forward, with him shifting the space within the room.

’All of them have reached the level marking towards Godly ascension.’

Azrail mused, placing all of them at the top of the food chain. After all, getting a god spark to rise to the position of a god is no easy task at all, though in a sense, they can be said to possess the power to go toe to toe with gods. They chose to evolve in a different direction, after all, the ones in front of him had taken part in the war against the Celestial Vitalists.

All of them legends and all of them at power levels that Azrail won’t be able to mark currently at all. And all of them are shrewder and more evil than the rest, for you don’t rise to the top of this position where death thrives without being the best at what you do, which is killing.

’And all of them have dived their focus growth about death in different ways too.’

All of them are legends within the cosmos, people who Azrail has heard a lot about, the 13 warlords that followed Thanatos. Their legends spoke great stories that not many could fight against, and now Azrail is standing surrounded by all of them, their presence and their desire for the future focused on him as the 1st elder spoke.

"Why don’t we get more comfy and private?"

’Dravokh the Revenant’

Dravokh’s skin was pale, almost translucent as if the boundary between life and death had thinned to a fragile veil over his form. His eyes, sunken yet burning with an eerie light, seemed to see through both the living and the dead. Dravokh was a necromancer, but not the kind that merely raised the dead—no, he was their king. His nickname, The Lord of Restless Shadows, came from his unparalleled control over the undead. He could summon entire armies of forgotten souls, reanimating corpses to fight for him, their bones clattering in eternal servitude. Legends spoke of him turning the tide in the War of Eternal Dust when his undead legions swallowed entire battlefields whole, leaving only silence in their wake.

Dravokh hails from the ancient species known as the Draeglith, beings who dwell in the borderlands between the living world and the afterlife. The Draeglith are feared for their natural connection to death, and Dravokh is the epitome of their lineage.

Dravokh’s hair is a stark, silvery-white, flowing down to his shoulders like wisps of fog. It contrasts sharply with his skin, further enhancing his aura. His eyes are the most unsettling aspect of his appearance—deep-set in his gaunt face, they glow with an eerie, ghostly light, a dull silver that flickers like dying embers. These eyes seem to pierce through the veil between life and death as though they can see the very essence of one’s soul. His stare is cold, calculating, and eternal, as if he has seen too much and remembers every shadow that ever crossed his path.

"Let’s move to the meeting room then"

A woman spoke, Azrail’s eyes turning towards her as he thought.

’Seraphel the Veilbeare’

A woman whose beauty was as deadly as the whisper of death itself. Her pale white hair fell like a curtain around her face, her deep purple eyes glowing faintly beneath her dark cloak. Seraphel specialised in soul manipulation, earning her the nickname The Soul Whisperer. She didn’t deal with bodies but with the intangible—souls themselves. With a mere word, she could sever a soul from its body or return it, twisting it into a weapon of torment. She was feared not only for her abilities but also for the disturbing rumours that swirled around her—that she could hear the voices of every soul she had ever claimed, and they whispered their secrets to her, granting her knowledge that no one else could possess. Her victims were said to feel their souls slowly being unravelled as if their essence was being tugged away thread by thread until only an empty shell remained.

She hails from a species known as the Aetherian, a race long believed to be extinct, originating from the ethereal planes where physical form and spiritual essence are intertwined. The Aetherians were once masters of both life and death, existing in a state where they could walk between the realms of the living and the dead with ease. Seraphel, one of the last of her kind, embodies the deepest connection to the soul—a power that transcends mere physical death.

Her appearance is as haunting as it is mesmerising. Seraphel’s pale white hair falls like a silken curtain around her face, flowing down her back. This hair contrasts starkly with her alabaster skin, which is unnaturally smooth and flawless, giving her an almost unearthly, porcelain-like quality.

Her eyes are perhaps the most striking aspect of her appearance. Deep, rich purple, they glow faintly beneath her dark hood, swirling with the essence of the many souls she has claimed over the centuries. Her gaze is piercing, as though she can see past the veil of flesh directly into one’s soul. Those who have met her eyes often say it feels like she’s weighing their very existence, judging whether their soul is worthy of staying within their body or whether it should belong to her. Her stare holds the promise of death, not as an end but as a transformation—one that Seraphel alone controls.

In terms of physical beauty, Seraphel is an exquisite vision—her facial features are delicate and perfectly symmetrical, with high cheekbones, full lips, and a slight, pointed chin that gives her an elegant, almost regal appearance. She possesses an aura of cold, distant allure, a beauty that feels beyond mortal comprehension. However, her beauty is as deadly as it is captivating, and most know better than to be lured in by her appearance.

Seraphel is not only feared for her power over souls but also for the disturbing rumours that swirl around her. It is said that she can hear the voices of every soul she has ever claimed—whispers that follow her, revealing secrets and forbidden knowledge. She walks the fine line between life and death, using the information these souls share with her to her advantage. No secret is safe, and no soul can hide from her.