Without being able to move his limbs before, once Azrail plunged into the winding slide heading downward, he felt his control over his movements return, allowing for him to promptly peek down at his uncovered chest, now realizing that he was shirtless. Upon this understanding, Azrail checked to see if he still had pants on, and to his alleviation, he wore something to protect his legs and crotch. Though Azrail recognized that instead of the dress pants that he would normally wear, he was instead sporting oversize Egyptian trousers—much to his confusion.

Hissing at the subtle tenderness pulsing inside of his chest, Azrail lay a hand over his chest only to feel the wound he exacted on himself to be gone, the blood that used to spew out of his opened body nowhere in sight. Not caring for the startling position he was in, Azrail surveyed his skin, noticing it to be healthy and clean; nothing like how unhealthy pale it used to be before he died. Without knowing, Azrail lightly smiled. Perhaps he should have offered more mind to his health.

Not much before he came to this understanding did he grunt in minor discomfort as his bum softened his plunge to the solid ground below his body. Glancing down, Azrail hurriedly looked up as he discovered he was no longer in the stifling unknown field he was prior to his finding of this spectacle; instead, he was now circled by breathtakingly vast galaxies, all altering in color and shape as they spread aimlessly around the mysterious universe, minuscule specks in the backdrop as comets and meteoroids gradually shifted around.

I'm in space...

With his mouth agape as he struggled to take everything in, Azrail put a hand over his mouth, troubled that he would die without oxygen. Yet the second he obtained such a thought, Azrail chuckled and withdrew his hand. The theory was ridiculous—how he would assume he could perish once more; chiefly with the fact that he no longer required oxygen. But what was most peculiar to him was that he docked on the hard ground—yet this was the universe where gravity doesn't genuinely exist and neither does oxygen; so how could he have reached hard ground?

While he puzzled over this unusual phenomenon, a figure hovered beside him, patiently waiting with a distressing smile on his concealed face for the man to find out about his presence. Even when he thought his new master would perceive his existence shortly after a minute, the anticipating figure was disillusioned as one minute turned into ten, and then into twenty...

"Divine Azrail?" Flinching once picking up a hollow voice behind him, Azrail turned around sharply, his body rigid as he glared up at the floating figure with wariness. Ultimately being noticed by his master, the figure gave a gracious smile, his face brightening up with fulfillment.

"Who are you?" Hearing Azrail say these words with aggression, the enigmatic figure frowned lightly before promptly adjusting his face to become monotone and indecipherable once more. "Greetings, Divine Azrail. This is your humble servant brought forth from the Void of Rashn to serve you for the rest of eternity." Performing a saikeirei bow in front of him, Azrail instantly felt flustered. Why was this man doing that? He doesn't believe he's done anything to deserve such a revered bow.

"Um... please, do get up. It's unnecessary to do such a bow. Please straighten yourself." Not spoiling another second, the proclaimed servant rectified his back and bowed his head acutely. "As you wish Divine Azrail."

An awkward silence followed as the both of them stared at each other. The one that declared to be his servant didn't dare spare a glance at his image; and so he decided to instead ogle at the ground that was unseen by them, with only the universe brightening their surroundings. Clearing his throat, Azrail glanced over towards the strange servant, skeptical whether or not to initiate a conversation. But when the silence finally become too frustrating for him, Azrail opened his mouth.

"What is your name?" Perking up at the sound of his voice, the servant once again bowed his head obediently. "This servant has no name. Servant can be given a name by Divine Azrail if Divine Azrail pleases." Sweat dropping at such a docile tone, Azrail sighed, skeptical if he should order the man to stop hailing him with such a worshipped title. Of course, even with this request, Azrail knew he wouldn't stop; just knowing him for about five minutes Azrail already learned that was the only thing that man couldn't perform.

"Fine... now I'm not the finest with names, so please, give me some time."

"Whatever Divine Azrail wishes shall be fulfilled."

Even when Azrail could have given him a name such as Julian or James, Azrail knew better than that. For a person's first name, it must be unique and not something with a half-hearted purpose. With this thought, he became more determined to come up with a name that sounds elegant, yet charming.

But first, Azrail only thought it natural if he should know how he looked first. To not know the face of someone could be deemed a way to convey weariness and resentment, and so Azrail only found it typical if he knew what his 'servant' looked like.

"First, draw off your cloak. I wish to know what you look like first." Hearing the pressing tone of his Divine Azrail, the servant almost let a smile slip from his supervision. "As Divine Azrail wishes." Drawing his midnight black cloak off from his figure, the man kneeled with one knee as he hunched his head.

Not caring for the barriers he was about to break, Azrail leaned his upper body and clutched the man's chin with his pointer finger and thumb, raising his head as he read his features.

Oh, my...

"... You're so beautiful." His voice was as smooth as silk and as pacifying as a symphony. Once hearing his voice, the man felt as if honey was cascading down on his soul, gobbling it whole as his face flushed with timidity.

Even with the mundane clothing he wore with just a snow-white haori swathed around his lean figure and a flowing white skirt enclosing the lower bottom of his body, the plain clothing endorsed his snow-white skin delicately. Coal eyes beamed at him with satisfaction as his cherry-red lips formed into a content smile. Peering over at his tied-up ponytail maintaining his black hair, Azrail chuckled.

He was sure to be famous to the point of becoming president if he resided in South Korea.

"Your name shall be Kallias. It means beauty." Letting go of Kallias' chin, Azrail patted his head before stepping back to give Kallias some room. While processing the name, Kallias abruptly jumped up with enjoyment, his dispassionate eyes burning with exhilaration as he hurriedly kowtowed in front of him, his energy oozing out of his soul and towards Azrail as even he could feel it.

"Thank you, Divine Azrail! My soul and loyalty, and everything I have left of me, is yours to command and destroy! Thank you, thank you!" Watching as he repeatedly thumped his head on the ground, Azrail sighed. "You know, Kallias, you don't have to bow every time I say something." Chuckling at the end as he saw the stunned look on Kallias' face, he nodded.

"Just act natural around me, okay? I don't mind not having a servant." With a reassuring smile that even he didn't know he could conjure. For a moment, Azrail forgot about his long-time mourning and instead concentrated on the man in front of him who continued to act like a panicking bird.

"Oh! Divine Azrail! Kallias forgot to report that Birth Mother requested for Divine Azrail to chant Birth Mother's name three times!" Hearing this bizarre request, Azrail tilted his head as he furrowed his brows, unsure of how to go on with this statement. "Who is this 'Birth Mother' you speak of?"

"Birth Mother is the divine being responsible for the first five Gods. Thus, she is cared for with the utmost honor; even by the Five High Rulers, which Divine Azrail is soon to be a part of." This troubled Azrail more. "You mean to tell me that the God of Death was not jesting with me?" Resolving not to wait for Kallias' response, Azrail zoned out into his thoughts.

It seemed like he was sincere; this 'Birth Mother' was like some sort of stepmother he had obtained through death.

"So all I have to do is chant her name three times, and that's it?" Glancing down at the bowing Kallias, Kallias froze. "Kallias isn't sure, Divine Azrail. Only Birth Mother knows what is going to happen next." Dissatisfied by this discovery, Azrail didn't allow for it to show and instead nodded his head firmly.

"Of course. Thank you, Kallias."

"Anything for Divine Azrail."

Breathing in deeply as an unexpected uneasiness crept up on his stomach, driving him to have second thoughts about this entire situation. Perhaps he was better off going to wherever the dead go? The title of Birth Mother intimidated him, but not like Death's title—oh no, he has already familiarized himself with the man long ago, so being apprehensive of him was a long-forgotten emotion.

Yet Birth Mother... a chill went down his spine. Noticing this, Kallias attempted to reassure him only for Azrail to brush off his concerns, instead telling him he wasn't afraid nor nervous; just enthusiastic.

"Meeting her would be something beyond imagination, so I must be excited, right? Besides, I'm sure Birth Mother is kind." Lying to him, Azrail strolled around the endless space as he contemplated what would happen next. Should a trail be arranged to secure that he was indeed deserving of the title? Was he to battle some kind of beast or go on a dangerous quest filled with peril? With every assumption, the scenarios only became worse and worse. This instantly made his anxiousness worsen.

What will happen to him if he were to meet Birth Mother? He was becoming certain that it wouldn't be good.

Pondering about this situation for a few more minutes, Azrail nodded, already identifying there was no way around it. "Alright. All I have to do is chant Birth Mother's name three times?" Kallias answered with a nod. Sighing, Azrail nodded.

Releasing his solid grip on his oversize pants, Azrail viewed the universe and its mystical brilliance to bring him some determination.

"Birth Mother. Birth Mother. Birth Mother." Declaring her name three times with a subdued voice, Azrail cautiously glanced around the space where he stood, only to find Kallias still bowing and him still standing, unsure of what to do. "Uh... thought something would happen by now. Hey, Kallias-"

"So you are the next candidate for the position of the God of Death? You don't appear strong." Rotating around in shock, Azrail crumpled to the ground upon feeling the monumental amount of pressure put on his body; beads of sweat rolling down his body as he felt as if he was being strangled by a hand. "I was correct. Your body is weak and fragile-looking, and you barely have any strength to spare. What is that troublemaker trying to play at, bringing you here!" Hearing Birth Mother let out a puff of exasperation Azrail felt timider.

Afraid of what? Afraid that the hands that were squeezing on his neck would snap his head off. Even when he attempted to struggle, Azrail couldn't even move. Maybe he should have tried in gym class, or even have taken some kind of strength class. Even yoga or cardio would have helped in this situation to at least make him move for a split second.

"Tell me, mortal—why do you deem yourself worthy of becoming the next God of Death?" This question stunned Azrail, as even he was unsure of what the appropriate response would be.

He didn't even want this position, and yet he has to explain to her the reason he wishes to become the next God of Death? Birth Mother has to be bantering, Azrail thought; Birth Mother should know his situation, she knows all! At this moment Azrail felt as if an immense injustice has been put on his shoulders.

The reason his life was nothing but despair was because of the God of Death!