Chapter 10 The lying angel.

The young girl believed she was safe being near her new friend, which led her to release the tension and inevitably faint. Alice had awakened her grimoire, and Azmodiel came out of it; there was no way he had bad intentions or would harm her. She was convinced he was here to save her and the town.

Once Azmodiel caught his breath, he picked up what was now his human from the ground. This was not due to a sudden moment of kindness; he felt obliged to help her, as it was evident the girl must now be important to him. Under a gaze of pure scrutiny, the being noticed the features that formed the young girl: her hair as golden as the sun and her young and slender figure. If he now had a pact with a human, "it could be worse," he thought to himself.

Azmodiel used infernal fire to incinerate the child's mother's body; it wasn't good to leave the body of a woman exposed to scavengers and lustful creatures, and it was a good excuse to test his limits. Upon seeing the corpse turned to ashes, he confirmed that the child's mother was not included in his limitations or that the girl must be conscious to impose restrictions.

If Alice had woken up at that moment, she would probably have fainted again. The sight of hundreds of sharp feathers like obsidian blades dancing around her could cause that. Although, no matter how hard Azmodiel tried, and he certainly did, he couldn't aim the blades at the human. With a sigh, he gathered his feathers, and everything he needed to know was confirmed; he couldn't attack the girl.

Afterward, he tried using hellfire, only to finish burning down a nearby cabin. It was as if his projectiles were repelled or he simply couldn't aim at the young girl. Even with her unconscious, the compulsion bent his will, making him incapable of harming her.

Simpler activities, such as just letting her fall or trying to crush her with his supernatural strength, weren't very effective either. Besides holding her close to his chest, his arms didn't respond as he would like. Someone unfamiliar with the situation might even think it was a tender act.

Extremely irritated and somewhat frustrated, Azmodiel made no progress. It was becoming painfully evident that attacking the girl was a futile effort. However, seeing the building he had just set on fire gave him an idea. "Maybe a little accident," Azmodiel thought.

When the idea of leaving the girl near a burning building crossed his mind, he confirmed that thinking about harming her wasn't restricted, but thinking and acting were different. When he tried to walk towards the fire, the magic interpreted his intentions, and his body froze. He couldn't even bring Alice close to the fire. It was now evident that his actions would be limited as long as they aimed to harm the girl.

Ideas came to his mind in a chain, with his intent quite clear. He could devour the girl's soul, which would technically kill her but keep her soul, where the bond was tied, so it was tempting to see how the restriction would interpret that. Perhaps merging his soul with hers would give him some kind of freedom, although Azmodiel didn't hold much hope for this. There were other things he could try, but the girl needed to be conscious of them, so he could plan but that would have to wait.

It's hard to know what emotion would be worse for Alice: knowing the twisted thoughts that passed through Azmodiel's mind, or the fact that this man had embraced and carried her through the town. Unfortunately or fortunately for Alice, she was destined never to know what happened during her lapse of unconsciousness.

The sudden appearance of another group of goblins pulled Azmodiel out of his twisted thoughts. It was strange; he was sure he had eliminated all of them, although, in his state of madness, he was less precise and meticulous. However, the disdain and disgust he felt for them were dampened by Alice's presence, and that was even more peculiar than his inability to harm her.

For the first time, Azmodiel didn't feel fury about his situation; rather, he saw it as an opportunity. As he turned his expression of disgust into a wide smile, a twisted and macabre idea came to his mind. "I can't, but..."

Seeing the goblins, he noticed they paid more attention to the young girl than to him. "Do I have to be the one to get rid of this?" He felt no restriction as he put the girl on the ground. The group of goblins, still casting wary glances at Azmodiel, couldn't stop eyeing the tribute presented to them.

One, two, three steps; with each step Azmodiel took backward, away from Alice, the goblins took one step forward. "Just a few more steps," Azmodiel thought. The goblins and he had anticipation, tension, and desire in common. Just a little more, and both parties could have what they wanted.

Everything happened too quickly, less than a blink, but more than a sigh. Azmodiel looked at his own extended arm, with the fist now covered in blood and what seemed to be the body of one of the creatures hanging from his arm, pierced through the middle. He looked at himself; before, he hadn't deigned to touch these creatures directly, but now he was covered in the innards of one. His wings extended on their own, protecting the inert human behind him, preventing any residue of the impact from touching her.

A confusion of emotions arose within him; his protective instinct became stronger than his fury. He couldn't harm the girl, directly or indirectly; he was also compelled to protect her, whether he liked it or not, willing or unwilling. This being obsessed with his freedom had now lost control even over his own body. Azmodiel fought against this inexplicable desire to protect her while feeling the fury build up inside him.

At the same time, the horns on his temples curved and extended, with his eyes now golden in color. With a desire to vent his anger in any possible direction, Azmodiel looked at the group of goblins, who had finally snapped out of their stupor and were running toward him with their clubs raised. Ensuring his new master... Even trying to admit it made his insides churn.

Being sure that the young girl was completely unconscious, he allowed himself to be swept away by madness for a moment, revealing his full form and losing his meticulousness in combat. Everything became somewhat blurry. The magic could interpret it as him protecting Alice, but he didn't care to think about it; all that mattered was his directed fury was unleashed, and he felt no restrictions.

He took a deep breath, trying to control the boiling anger that threatened to corrode his sanity. When Azmodiel came to his senses, he saw the massacre he had caused; he had won with tremendous ease. However, he wasn't satisfied; there was no sense of victory in this battle. There was something wrong with him, and it wasn't just that he was protecting the mortal girl—something had changed.

For once in his life, the being felt vulnerable; something was preventing him from reaching the limits of his power, from exploding in the burst of terror he was capable of causing on this mortal plane. Since he never intended to get involved in battlefields or wars against those supreme lords from beyond the void again, he didn't actually need to be insanely powerful, but still, he didn't feel his power was his, free to access. All semblance of freedom vanished as the last goblin breathed its last.

Besides the negative emotions, Azmodiel felt for Alice due to his imprisonment, he was curious about the mortal girl who had the power to summon him and release him from that prison. He even felt some fascination, but that feeling was lost amidst the stormy sea that was his mind.

Considering he couldn't find out anything about the girl and her surroundings while she was unconscious, he decided to seek refuge and wait. In a small cabin far from the forest, which the goblins almost reached, Azmodiel laid Alice on one of the beds and sat down to wait. After thousands of years locked up, patience was one of the few familiar things left to him.

Perhaps minutes passed until the light of dawn tenderly caressed Alice's soft face. For some, it would feel uncomfortable, but for her, it was a gentle awakening, almost a comfort for the girl's already exhausted unconscious state. Upon opening her eyes, the first thing Alice saw was the interior of her house—peculiar that this was the one left undamaged and where Azmodiel felt guided—almost as if it had been protected by something.

It felt like any other morning as if everything from last night had been just a nightmare. "Maybe it was?" Alice thought. Jumping out of bed and with the same speed leaving her room in search of her mother.

"Mother! You won't believe the dream I had!" But as she stepped out of the doorframe, her fears materialized. She saw someone else in her mother's chair, and that someone confirmed that last night wasn't a dream. "Where's mom?" These are the only words Alice could utter before going blank.

Her angel lifted his head and stared at her. With an expression of sincere apology and a deep voice that suited him perfectly, Azmodiel answered, "I gave her a proper burial; I believe she would have preferred you not to see her in that state."

Alice swallowed hard as her vision blurred with tears. The news dropped into the pit of her stomach like a brick, heavy and indigestible. As expected, after seeing her world crumble and losing the last bit of her daily life, her legs buckled, bringing her to her knees on the ground and into a state of resignation.

In her despondent state, Alice barely perceived his warm embrace. It took her a moment to realize who had enveloped her with his arms and wings. Alice just let herself go and clung to him, to the last source of light, warmth, and safety left in the world. Had anyone been there to hear, the girl's cries of pain would have broken their heart.

Once she finished crying out all her feelings on Azmodiel's chest, she realized where she was, momentarily lost in the warmth. Surprised and still tearful, Alice lifted her gaze to find a face looking back at her; it was the first time she paid attention to her angel's features.

Azmodiel's face showed sadness as if he felt her pain. The girl didn't feel rushed to pull away; the situation and introductions could wait—she needed to feel safe for a moment. The poor girl still believed he was the angel she had summoned to save her, while Azmodiel couldn't wait to test the limits of his new master's soul and essence.

Fate can be fickle, but it is equitable with everyone. Cruel, ruthless, and vengeful with both ancient beings and mortals alike. Only time will tell what will result from this fateful encounter between two such opposing entities.