Sleipnir was not merely a strong opponent, he was a force of overwhelming power, far beyond anything ordinary.
Even Azrael himself was fully aware of just how dangerous and formidable he truly was.
There was no underestimating him, no room for mistakes.
Every move, every second in his presence carried the weight of life and death.
Yet despite knowing all of this, Azrael understood something even more important.
This was his chance, perhaps the only one he would ever get, to put an end to everything once and for all.
"Azrael Darkbrone…"
Sleipnir's voice echoed, calm yet laced with quiet menace.
"Your time is already up, you know."
He took a slow step forward, his gaze fixed, unshaken.
"You wouldn't even dare to strike me… and yet you think you can defeat me? Erase me?"
A faint, almost mocking smile formed on his face.
"Azrael… you wouldn't strike your own wife, would you? Even if you know… that I'm merely wearing her face."
Azrael stood frozen, silent.
