A Peacock Husband of Five Princesses by day, a Noble Assassin by Night-Chapter 172: Raw -

The clash began in the heavens, at the grand coliseum. Not with the roar of battle but with silence. The silence was so heavy that it pressed down on every god and mortal who dared to watch.

The Reaper stood on the ground, his dark robes unmoving despite the winds that circled the arena. Before him, Eros, the god of love, was seen kneeling. His face was pale, and his eyes were more or less dead as if he accepted the outcome. The ethereal golden fluid—ichor (god’s blood) was flowing out of the cuts from his body, from top to bottom, and his hands were on his knees, unable to raise them.

Above them, Zeus, the King of Gods, sat on his golden throne. His voice, deep and thunderous, shattered the silence.

"Azrael!" Zeus bellowed, his hand gripping the armrest of his throne as if he were going to break out of anger. "You cannot kill the god of love! His death will ripple across the universe. Your mistake will curse every mortal."

The Reaper didn’t flinch. His scythe, black as the void, gleamed as he raised it high. For a moment, it looked as though even the gods held their breath.

"I warned you!" Zeus roared, desperation seeping into his command. "Spare him, and I will promise your world safety for eternity instead."

The Reaper moved.

In one fluid motion, the blade fell. Eros’s head rolled to the ground, his golden ichor staining the pristine marble beneath him. Gasps erupted around the coliseum. The gods froze. Zeus rose from the throne with a clear visible shock on his face.

Then, the Reaper changed.

The black robes fell away, dissolving into ash. In their place stood a man—a mortal man. He was tall, towering even in the presence of gods, his dark eyes locked onto Zeus. His wheat-toned skin shone under the divine light, and his hair was as dark as a moonless night.

"You talk about consequences, Zeus," the young man said, his voice calm yet sharp enough to cut through the steel. "As if they matter to you. As if they matter to me."

Divine energy erupted from Zeus, but he clenched his fists and tried to keep it contained and not explode out of rage. "Azrael, you have damned yourself and every mortal out there. Love is not a force so easily replaced. Without love, compassion, kindness, and affection would fade. Mortals would become cold and detached. Families, friendships, and romantic bonds would disintegrate. Hate would increase, and the balance would be broken."

Azrael smirked, tilting his head slightly. "You can always find a replacement, can’t you? Or is that just something you gods like to say when you destroy worlds?"

"You..." Zeus clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles turned white. In the end, he sat down and said, "Fine. I will honor the agreement. Planet Gaia will remain untouched for the next thousand heavenly years. But, when the time comes, I’ll make sure your little planet will never bear life again. As for you, the killer of love, even if love returns to this universe, your bloodline will forever be cursed."

"Haha."

Azrael let out a sharp laugh, and his smirk deepened. "Good. And when that time comes, I’ll be ready for you. As for my bloodline, I’ll view it as a small sacrifice to protect my world."

The arena erupted into murmurs, but Azrael didn’t wait to hear them. He turned, walking away from the King of Gods and the shattered pantheon, leaving Eros’s lifeless body behind.

\*

"So, who am I? What was I doing in this heaven, challenging the King of Gods, Zeus himself? Why did I kill the god of love?

Well, let me start with my name. My name is Azrael Orkney Garcia, the leader of Garcia House, Supreme Commander of the Empire of Arcana. The one who killed the prime god of love, Eros, and the reason why Cupid became the God of Love later on. The strongest mortal who ever lived. The soon-to-be founder of the Death Clan.

You might have heard a different story, though. Maybe history told you that Eros was killed by a band of demigods, a united effort of nine generals of the Empire who later turned into founders of their respective hidden clans.

Maybe history told you that I was the heir of Garcia House since birth.

Maybe history told you that I fell in love with five women of different noble families over time and married them, through which the subordinate clans were born.

Maybe history told you that I was best friends with the Legendary Emperor— Arthur Pendragon and his most loyal Knight.

Maybe history told you that the Era of Arcana began with the rise of the Empire of Arcana, under Arthur Pendragon.

But that’s not the truth. It was a fabricated history created for the sake of keeping some secrets from the world.

If you want the whole truth, you have to get to know me and my life story.

And my story begins roughly 664 years before this exact day.

\*\*\*

Month of June, Year 982 (Before the Era of Arcana)

City of Graena, Duchy of Freyles, Kingdom of Camelot;

Inside the Duke’s estate, Cathy Storm walked slowly through the wide marble hallways. Her steps were heavy, her hands cradling an unnaturally large belly. Two maids followed her closely, their hands ready to assist if needed. Beside her, her younger sister, Emily Storm, walked with lighter steps.

Emily, the Duke’s concubine, was the picture of grace and beauty, her presence often drawing whispers of admiration even in noble circles. However, unfortunately, she couldn’t bear any children and didn’t have much status within the family. However, just like Cathy, she too is the daughter of Marquis Storm, an influential noble with great military achievements. Hence, no one dares to offend her.

"Are you certain about this, Cathy?" Emily asked, her tone clearly shows that she was worried. "You shouldn’t be moving about so much." 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"I have to," Cathy replied, her voice showing firmness of her decision despite the weight of her condition. "I need answers."

The two sisters entered the sacred grounds of the Temple of Zeus. The air inside was cool, carrying the faint scent of incense. Waiting for them was the High Priestess, a petite woman with unaging, porcelain-like features that contradicted her true age of over thirty thousand years. Her piercing silver eyes, sharp and all-knowing, landed on Cathy and Emily.

The High Priestess slightly bowed her head in greeting. "Lady Cathy. Lady Storm. What brings you to the temple today?"

Cathy wasted no time. "I seek divination, High Priestess. Will my husband return soon?"

Emily’s eyes widened at her sister’s boldness. Cathy rarely spoke so directly, especially to someone of the High Priestess’s standing. But the Priestess merely smiled, her expression was calm.

"Yes," she answered. "The Duke will return swiftly."

Emily’s face brightened at the news. "Does that mean the war is ending?"

The High Priestess’s gaze shifted to Cathy’s belly, lingering on for a few seconds. Her smile faded into something unreadable. "The time for the birth of your children is approaching."

Silence fell into the room for a moment. Cathy’s hands instinctively moved to her swollen belly. "Will they... will they be born healthy? Alive?" Her voice broke slightly as she continued, "I’ve lost four already. I can’t... I can’t bear to lose them again."