Celestial Bloodline

Chapter 882: I’m giving you the chance… End me

Pain. Searing, soul-ripping pain. It devoured Azazeal from the inside out the moment he found the familiar, calm face he had waited thousands of years to see once again.

Yet that man’s face held a smile.

That wretched, casual smile, like a blade twisting in his gut. The bastard looked at him with the detachment of a stranger. As if he had never known him. As if he had never used and discarded him like trash.

Only Azazeal remembered.

The betrayal that had shattered him.

He laughed—a maddened, broken sound.

Destroy. Destroy. Obliterate everything.

Those words echoed relentlessly in his pounding mind, and for the first time, he unleashed all his power without restraint.

He wanted to grab that smiling face, drag him down, and make him suffer through hell—until that bastard remembered him.

Only to drag him through another hell for remembering. Then again. And again.

Until he could finally let go—let go of the rage and hatred he had carried for so long.

Although he knew he was already broken beyond repair—incapable of ever letting go of his rage and hatred—he still pressed on.

The air trembled. The Rulers were stunned by the magnitude of power he unleashed.

Alone, he invaded their territory, sowing chaos and destruction. He obliterated one of the grandest castles within their domain, and oh, the pure joy he felt upon learning it belonged to Nathaniel was unmatched.

His power wiped the amused expressions off the faces of every Ruler watching him. But the moment he appeared to be a true threat—one that couldn’t be controlled by those guarding their domain—the Rulers finally stepped in. The so-called bastards who had been observing from a distance.

He believed he could take them on—that he would kill them all for standing in his way, for stopping him from reaching Nathaniel.

But he failed.

A single strike from them was enough to send him hurtling through the air. His eyes widened with a burning, dark intensity.

Still, he didn’t give up.

He attacked again. And again. Yet with each blow, more injuries tore through his body and soul. The Rulers just snickered, amused by his futile resistance. When his battered form finally crashed down from the sky, they moved in to finish him.

But his mind screamed—No.

He couldn’t die. Not yet.

Not before fulfilling the goal he had suffered for over thousands of years.

Calling upon the full force of his Celestial essence, he violently warped space, tearing at his own flesh to shatter the golden walls they had conjured around him. The fabric of space tried to bind him, but he sacrificed another piece of himself to break free.

That’s how he escaped alive. Regardless, Azazeal didn’t make it very far—his body was too broken, his mind too clouded.

His body collapsed outside the border of the Rulers’ territory, surrounded by swarms of dark, corrupted beasts—and he fainted.

His essence enveloped him, trying to heal and repair his body, ensuring his survival.

Azazeal didn’t know how long he remained unconscious, only that it wasn’t long before his senses stirred at the presence of a very familiar aura nearby—an individual he had warned never to appear before him again.

But he couldn’t move.

His essence had deemed his broken body beyond saving. It had just shattered what remained of it and was now forging a new one—a vessel for his soul, which hovered above the familiar, tainted purple flower.

Azazeal felt the familiar presence draw closer and let out a hollow laugh—silent and stripped of sound, carried only by his emotions. What irony. He couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. All he could do was lie there and wait for Kyle to finish him off.

And why wouldn’t he?

He was at his weakest—so vulnerable that even a first-stage Celestial could end him.

And Kyle…

The very man he had once vowed to kill on sight. If there was ever a perfect moment for Kyle to eliminate him—it was now.

Azazeal’s thoughts spiraled.

Was this how he would die?

So pathetically?

Without reaching his goal, without finding peace, without ending the pain? Yet, he felt calm. So calm and composed. All because it wasn’t Nathaniel killing him. That bastard wouldn’t get the satisfaction. Never. If he was going to die, let it be by Kyle’s hand.

And if Kyle failed to finish the job…

Azazeal would kill him. Yes. That’s it.

He closed his senses, surrendering to the inevitable—offering the familiar presence full permission to do whatever it desired.

’I’m giving you the chance… End me.’

Simultaneously, Kyle narrowed his solemn eyes as the dark mass hovering above the tainted purple flower stirred faintly.

He had just resolved to approach the dark mass and shatter the space surrounding it and the purple flower to take it away. After all, he knew that sooner or later, the Rulers would return and pass through this place—there was no way they all would overlook what they had missed the first time.

“I’m only doing this to help you, so don’t wake up like a ghost and start attacking me. Tsk, tsk—what a nuisance this is.”

He felt conflicted. To be truthful, he could have taken this chance to try to kill him.

“No, not now. Not when he’s defenseless. I’ll kill him when he’s facing me—not like a coward. His life shouldn’t end this easily. Not like this. Not because of Nathaniel.”

Kyle’s eyes turned white as he invoked the natural law of space around him. Obeying his command, the fabric of space warped, and within moments, the area surrounding the purple flower began to fracture.

In no time, the area was broken—like a chamber floating in another dimension, simply cut off from the rest of the world.

“Haha, his essence didn’t attack me. That made things a lot easier. But the question is… where should I take him?”

Kyle raked his fingers through his hair, eyes narrowing in thought. He hadn’t expected to get this close—not with Azazeal’s essence guarding him. But he had. He scanned the surroundings, weighing his options.

“Should I take him back to the clan?”

A beat passed. Then he shook his head.

“No… that would be a terrible idea.”

His gaze drifted downward—to the land of the weak Celestials, far below the vast sky where the various clan territories floated.

That’s when he made his decision.

He would take Azazeal to the land of the Celestial Realm and toss him into a place so remote, no Ruler would ever think to go there—a truly bad and forsaken spot.

With his scent perception skill, it wouldn’t be difficult to find such a place, as long as he avoided trouble and stayed focused.

With that thought, he vanished—taking the isolated pocket of space with him.

A faint, mischievous smirk curved his lips as he discovered the perfect spot: a ruined mountain steeped in a foul, black tar-like liquid that exuded a repulsive stench.

“Nice. Nice.”

Kyle pinched his sensitive nose, mentally congratulating himself on a job well done. His eyes gleamed with a wicked glint as he tossed the pocket of space into the ruined mountain. He laughed and left before the foul smell stirred the Dark Celestial awake.

“He’s going to be furious when he wakes and sees where he is. Pfft. But who’s going to tell him I did this to him?”

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