My Overpowered Demon System

"Stop, Cerberus," the voice said suddenly, echoing through the entire area. "He is family."

It snapped Azrael out of his stupor and he turned back.

There he saw a three headed black dog standing just behind him, all three mouths wide open.

Azrael stumbled backward as he felt the terrifying aura radiating from the beast.

A muffled laugh reached his ear.

"Really, Azrael? The star of the Malvorin clan, scared of a tier twelve being?"

Azrael heaved as he recognized the voice.

He scoffed. "It came as a shock. That is all."

"Oh, really?" Eriksen said as he neared.

Azrael could not help but take a small step back as he felt Eriksen’s presence.

Even after reaching tier six himself, Eriksen still felt distant.

But his visible aura had not changed from tier five.

"What tier are you, if I may ask?" Azrael said.

Eriksen smiled and gestured for Azrael to follow him toward the castle.

Cerberus walked beside Eriksen, rubbing its head against his leg.

"Tier fourteen," Eriksen replied as they walked.

Azrael blinked.

Before the confusion could fully form, Eriksen spoke again.

"I was cursed by a calamity years back. The curse causes my power to spike randomly, resulting in destruction wherever I am."

He paused in front of the door, letting it open with a soft click.

The interior was decorated like a medieval castle, lamps hung at intervals along every wall.

A flower pot sat beside the door.

At the far end, a single staircase led upward.

The door shut behind them as they entered.

"To reduce the scale of the destruction, I had to contain most of my power using another medium while keeping away from populated areas."

He said it with the carelessness of someone who did not mind the secret getting out.

’We are both carrying curses,’ Azrael mused with a quiet smile.

"What brings you here?"

They began ascending the stairs.

Cerberus had already dissolved into essence somewhere behind them.

"I was branded with the Flame of Death," Azrael replied calmly.

Eriksen turned back to look at him.

He was calm.

Not the same Eriksen Azrael remembered from the Dimensional Rift.

They emerged into a long hallway that stretched until its far end disappeared in darkness.

"Let us get to my lab first," Eriksen said.

Both of them walked through the hallway, reaching the last door within a few minutes.

Eriksen tugged it open with a slight pull. It creaked.

"Huh?" The word drifted from Azrael’s lips, slow and confused.

He looked at Eriksen, then at the person darting through the lab.

"Oh, you are here," the real Eriksen said, setting down the pencils in his hand.

"Loki, stop deceiving people," he said with a sigh before walking to the door.

Azrael knew of the god of tricksters from his past life on Earth.

He turned back to look at the Eriksen who had brought him up here.

The figure had already shifted into someone else entirely. Green hair. Sharp teeth. A green gown.

Loki clicked his tongue and walked away without sparing either of them a second glance.

As his footsteps faded, the real Eriksen invited Azrael in.

"I am quite busy at the moment. I was given this castle yesterday and I am still arranging everything."

Azrael furrowed his brows.

"What do you mean someone gave you a castle this size?"

Eriksen shook his head. "Do not worry about it."

He looked around and pointed toward a chair.

"You can sit in that massage chair for now. It was also a gift."

Before Azrael could respond, his body moved against his will and landed in the chair.

His mind went still the moment he sat.

The softness was something words could not accurately describe.

His mind and soul seemed to settle the longer he sat there.

"Maybe I can stay a little longer," he groaned quietly.

Time blurred past.

A little over an hour passed before Eriksen finished.

"Phew," he said, wiping a nonexistent bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Azrael, I am done."

"Good work."

"Why are you here?" Eriksen asked directly, his voice sharper than normal. "Also, just so you know, that will be five credits for using my massage chair."

Azrael’s eyes opened slowly and settled on Eriksen with an expression that needed no words.

Eriksen waved it off.

"Since I did not mention it beforehand, I will waive it this time. But from now on it is zero point one credits per minute."

Azrael stood up instantly, not risking another second in the chair.

"What do you want?" Eriksen asked again. "I am busy, as you can see."

"Sorry. I wanted to ask if you had a cure for the Flame of Death."

Eriksen’s brows drew together. Then his eyes widened.

"Do not tell me."

He looked Azrael over from head to toe.

Azrael nodded.

"You are completely done for, brother," Eriksen said, his laughter erupting through the lab. He managed to squeeze a genuine expletive into it before calming down.

He did not even attempt to hide any of it.

Veins appeared on Azrael’s forehead but he could only stand there and endure.

"Okay, seriously though, how did you even get branded by something that dangerous?" Eriksen asked once he had settled.

"You are acting as if you are not cursed yourself," Azrael said.

"Blame Loki for that," Eriksen muttered under his breath.

"Unfortunately I do not have a cure for the Flame of Death," Eriksen said, pausing briefly. "But I can try to find a way to suppress it. You are fortunate. I have two inspirational capsules so this should not take too long."

"I thought as much. A divine flame cannot be cured so easily."

"Was it Prometheus who did this?" Eriksen asked with raised brows.

"How did you know?"

"He was the one who branded me with the Flame of Chaos years ago. If only I had gotten to him that day."

"Well, I did manage to kill him," Azrael replied with a wry smile.

Eriksen furrowed his brows, then pressed his palm to his forehead. "I understand that Wrath demons can be impulsive, but why are you this impulsive?"

Azrael frowned. What did Eriksen mean?

"Summon Prometheus. The one who cursed you would definitely carry the cure."

That was when it landed.

It was true.

Prometheus was the one who inflicted it. It stood to reason he would have what was needed to reverse it.

Without hesitation, Azrael pulled out his calamity token.