Hearing silence coming from the suffocating male Birth Mother scoffed, a frown settling on her lips as she firmly glared down at Azrail with ridicule. "You appear here wishing for the position of Death, yet you have no reason? Who does that God of Death believe he is?" Stating this with annoyance, Birth Mother brought a hand up to her face and let out a long sigh.

"B-Birth-" Plunging headfirst onto the ground, Azrail pouted as he felt a throbbing ache form on his head. Upon hearing his voice, Birth Mother peered down at him before waving her hand in dismissal. "I suppose this was to be expected; considering that humans have become weaker over the past decade. Stand." Already catching his breath, Azrail stood up weakly before bowing respectfully in front of Birth Mother.

"Greeting to Birth Mother, I am-"

"No need to clarify who you are, mortal. Such things are a waste of my time. Now, give me a reason and quickly; I have much to do." An unsympathetic voice interrupted him swiftly, though Azrail didn't mind. He rather admired her manner.

"Birth Mother, I am sorry to declare that I have no ambition nor reason to become the next God of Death. Simply put; the current God of Death appointed me without my awareness nor consent." Protesting about the God of Death's irrational decision, Azrail felt a modest frown form on his lips. The thought that the reason others perished was because of himself and of the God of Death! Thus, both of them must settle the score!

Sensing the resentment and vengeance emanating from the human Birth Mother chuckled in amusement. "While it is unethical for what the God of Death has done to you, it was mandatory if you were to become a successor for the position. In order for you to be acquainted with and insensitive with death, you must be born with death on your brow." While she was speaking, Azrail was oblivious of her staring attentively at him because of her full body being hidden, but Azrail felt restless.

"However, that is not the reason for why I am displeased. The reason is that: Why did it have to be you? You're feeble, soft, and girly-looking! Nothing like a god!" Puffing out smoke, Birth Mother looked away from him, undoubtedly discontented with his image in front of her eyes.

Even though he didn't wish for the position, Azrail still felt slightly insulted. Even if he was weak and small, why should any of that matter? He could still dominate death with just one finger if he so chooses! Swinging his head to purge of his bitter thoughts, Azrail cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I have no answer, Birth Mother. However, I believe we diverged far from the topic at hand, no?" Listening to his words, Birth Mother quieted down and glanced back at him; this time with more satisfying thoughts.

"Yes, yes... small and fragile, yet wise and sincere... yes... yes..." Watching as Birth Mother bobbed her head as she stared at him, Azrail wasn't sure how to proceed.

On the sidelines, Kallias remained bowing, though, with every word that was uttered by both parties, his ears perked up with interest. Perhaps Divine Azrail was finally getting inside of Birth Mother's good graces? This thought pleased him beyond measure.

Not daring to speak as Birth Mother went on whispering to herself in a hushed tone, Azrail stood still, not daring to move a muscle as his body was still sore from the amount of pressure he suffered from before. Whether he obtained the role of God of Death or not didn't thoroughly matter to him. Azrail expected that since the God of Death has been training him for this moment his whole life that the behavior of apathy and composure he felt at the moment was well justified.

Azrail discovered there was no need to overreact if Birth Mother didn't favor him to become the God of Death. If he went to the afterlife or hell, both sounded well to him. He wasn't frightened; no, for from it—instead he felt weirdly at peace. The reason? He couldn't think of one, and frankly, he found there was no need to.

After ten minutes went by, Birth Mother groaned, attracting the attention of the two males back to her immediately. Moving her hand in front of her nose, three keys appeared on her palm, burning with grandeur as they glittered and sprinkled while levitating on her palm as if it was some kind of divine achievement reward from a game.

"Pick one conscientiously. You don't realize how much power something holds until you fall victim to said power." Driving away the keys with a gentle blow the three keys traveled gently over to him before pausing in front of him, all three glowing with their own exclusive color.

The first one appeared to be made of the finest silver known to man as it shone under its light, brightening its surroundings with hope. There appeared three pairs of wings on the back of the key, which flopped with life, hardly slapping each other. What seemed to be a Christian cross in front of the wings that was made of a diamond as it twirled downward before clashing with another diamond, this time the shape of an oval as it was also blended in with what Azrail thought to be fragments of gold. Even when the trailing end of the Christian cross mixed in with the giant diamond piece on the heart of the key, it still trailed further down before ending at the end of the key, covering the cross-edged cuts on the end.

The second one was instead that one of a clockwork, where clocks trimmed the entire key as it showed varied times—and one appeared to be moving at breakneck speeds without showing signs of stopping. The clocks spread down onto the end of the key, also coating the cut.

Now the third one was rather small—but yet looked better than the second one. A clock was one in the middle as the hands didn't move, as if the clock was broken. There was a single wing on the left side of the key made of bronze—like the rest of the object was made of.

So as all of them sparkled and glistened, Azrail gawked at them, dumbfounded.

Who makes two keys that don't even work?

Picking up the third one, Azrail observed as the other two dissolved into thin air, this making Birth Mother pleased. Presenting the key he chose to Birth Mother Azrail's face was monotone. He found there was no reason for this—at all. The cuts on the first two keys were enclosed by a chain, thus making them incompetent to even open the door that they were constructed to open. It was a transparent eye-catch, so really, Azrail didn't find it complicated to find the one that didn't have the point wrapped with chains. Even while the other two were much more charming, how could they be of use to him if they opened nothing?

"From the Eye of Sabaru... you aren't that easy to catch off-guard? You seemed rather calm when I appeared... perhaps you have more on you than just being fragile." Nodding in contentment, Birth Mother suddenly materialized in front of Azrail, planting her massive hand on top of his head before muttering a few words; soon, he blacked out.

Opening a black portal from underneath him, Birth Mother watched as he plunged down without halting, and while her back was turned to Kallias, she motioned for him to walk towards her. "You are to report to the World of Gods at once. There, you must wait for your God." Nodding in reverence, Kallias promptly disappeared, leaving Birth Mother alone with her thoughts.

Once Azrail fell on top of something solid and pointed, that was when he eventually woke up, startled and shaky from where he presently was. Darkness pampered his vision, not granting him to see anything, but as Azrail kneeled down to understand what he was stepping on, he let out a deafening yelp. Pure dislike rose on his face as he held the object close to his face.

It was the head of a skeleton.

Releasing the head as he heard something approaching, the heavy pressure of the place provided for him to feel a bit more at ease, though not wholly as he heard whooshing and wailing noises close in on him. Knowing well that he couldn't just run, Azrail stood still, plucking up the bone of a skeleton as he picked up another just in case.

Flinching once he felt the icy touch of something, Azrail sought to knock the figure only for a chill to go down his spine. Yet he tried once more. After the second strike didn't seem to feel anything, Azrail finally grasped that whatever touched him didn't have a material figure—but a transparent one.

Wails closed in on him as he abruptly felt thousands of hands grabbing at him, some even injuring him. Though he felt irritation at the wounds that were exacted on him, Azrail had too much adrenaline pumping as his fear soon tried to take over; only for him to hurriedly calm down soon after.

"Who are you?" Azrail asked, and after a few seconds a hoarse voice responded: "The dead." Nodding his head in understanding, Azrail questioned: "Why are you touching me?" Once the dead heard this question did they stop touching and striking him, but only for a minute before continuing their efforts.

Hearing no answer Azrail went to open his mouth once more only to feel that someone was struggling to go down his throat, this making him panic as he recklessly attempted to pull them off only for him to recall that they were transparent, thus they were untouchable. As tears accumulated in his eyes, Azrail remembered the key he held in his hands.

Of course!

With an unusual motivation, Azrail brought up the key to the dead, forcing them to retreat with fear as the one inside his mouth did the same. Feeling triumphant, Azrail remained presenting it to the dead souls as it flickered and twinkled. While he thought the plan of showing them the key was futile, a sudden boldness came up and swelled, leaving him no choice but to comply.

As he continued to raise the key to further intimidate them away, Azrail gasped as he felt the key slip from his fingers and fall into his mouth, sliding down his throat. Bewildered by what happened, Azrail stood there for a few seconds before disappearing with an explosion of darkness.

Everything passed in just one second that not even the dead had time to react.