Of all the places he thought he'd end up, chained to a rock in Purgatory was not one of them.
The sphere of chains Pestilence had wrapped around him back in the mortal realm was completely gone.
Instead, what replaced it was far less elegant.
Shackles dug into his skull and waist, pressing his skeletal frame against a boulder he couldn't peel himself from. He had tried to escape using his miasma, but each attempt failed harder than the last.
On top of that, both of his arms stretched in opposite directions, each one chained to a jagged slab of rock.
The distance between them was just enough to keep the iron grinding into his exposed bone. Whoever arranged this made damn sure he wouldn't find a single moment of relief.
"Well, isn't this fantastic."
Death sighed.
Pestilence had played him well. He couldn't even bring himself to be upset at the betrayal. But still, one question refused to leave his mind. Who was Pestilence working for to put him in this position?
In the distance, a figure approached through the gray sand. Their long greenish hair dragged across the ground behind them like a trail. As always, they wore a greenish dress of flowers and vines.
Speak of the devil.
"Good evening, Death."
"Hard to call it evening when there's nothing in this wasteland to tell time by. But sure, I'll take your word for it."
Pestilence put a hand to her mouth, holding back a giggle. That was when Death noticed it. Her hand was transparent.
"Your hand. It's see-through. You do realize if you keep wandering around Purgatory instead of going back to Conquest, you'll stop existing entirely. So what are you still doing here?"
Pestilence expression changed as her clouded eyes narrowed at Death.
"You could have prevented that fate four hundred and fifty years ago. After you broke the Second Law, The Law of Forbidden Passage."
Death let out a dry laugh.
"You're still hung up on that? You want me to be honest with you? Fine. I could have helped you. The concealment cube would have protected me. But who would i be if i spend that kind of time and effort, when I had just stolen a title? Ridiculous! Helping you was never my priority."
Pestilence didn't respond at first. She just stared at him with those empty, pupil-less eyes. Then said,
"Do you remember what happened after you fled to the mortal realm? War and Famine were ready to drag you back to the Sovereign themselves. They wanted your head."
Death said nothing as Pestilence continued her barrage of words towards him.
"It was I who traveled to each of their realms and stood in front of them. All so you could remain hidden on Earth, living out your pitiful life."
Pestilence crouched down to his level, her transparent hand resting on her knee.
"I sought nothing more than a vessel. A human one, strong enough to contain my spirit. So I could leave my sanctuary without fear of ceasing to exist. And you declined to help."
The silence that followed pressed harder than the chains around him.
Eventually, Death's mind wandered on its own, pulling him back to when he first claimed the title of Horseman of Death.
***
Four hundred and fifty years ago, right after claiming the title of Death, word reached him that Lucifer and the rest of the Demons of Sin were coming after him.
He had promised Lucifer both Azazel and Conquest's rings. Instead, he kept them for himself.
He knew he needed to vanish from the unseen realm. But requesting the Sovereign's permission to descend to the mortal realm was out of the question.
The moment he stood before the Sovereign, the archangels would start asking questions.
Questions about how he had driven two Horsemen to annihilate each other, forcing them to break the Third Law, The Law of Mutual Annihilation.
And once those questions started, the trail would lead straight back to him. He was certain of it.
Which left him with only one option. And without a doubt, it was the riskiest plan he had ever committed to.
He would have to break the Second Law, The Law of Forbidden Passage. The law itself was simple to understand.
All it stated was that no Horseman of the Apocalypse shall descend to the mortal realm without the Sovereign's permission.
However, there were ways to break the Second Law without getting caught.
Back when he was still a Demon of Sin, he possessed the ability to conceal himself from higher entities.
But the moment the Sovereign appointed him as Death, every demon ability he ever had went dormant.
Which meant he needed someone who still had theirs.
That demon's name was Mazikeen. She wore a worn-out brown cloak with the hood pulled low over her face.
She was the former high-ranking subordinate of the Demon Sin of Lust, the same demon who was murdered by Conquest.
Mazikeen hadn't been present during the confrontation between Azazel and Conquest, which meant it was easy to recruit her.
And more importantly, as a former high-ranking demon, she still possessed the ability to create a concealment cube that could shield him from the Sovereign's gaze.
The binding contract was straightforward. Mazikeen would protect him at all times and follow his commands.
Though he gave her enough flexibility to act on her own judgment in situations where it was high stakes.
The contract would only be considered fulfilled once he had located Conquest's reincarnation and placed her under his control through the Deathmark.
In return, Mazikeen wanted one thing. The key to Hell so she could see Lucifer, the Demon Sin of Pride.
It was a simple exchange. And just like that, a partnership was made.
Using Mazikeen's concealment cube, he slipped past the Sovereign's watch and descended to the mortal realm.
When he arrived in the mortal realm, it was the year June 1569, in the early morning. Specifically, it was the late Sengoku period in Japan.
The concealment cube had landed right in the middle of a battlefield where two factions were locked in bloody combat.
But the moment he touched down, both sides froze.
Swords hung mid-swing.
Arrows stayed drawn. Every soldier on the field stared at the cube in silence, unable to comprehend what had just fallen from the sky.
As The Horseman of Death he carried one ability no other Horseman possessed.
He could inhabit the body of the recently deceased and wear it as his own, which in turn made him invisible to the sovereign. All he needed was a corpse.
"Mazikeen. Your first order of business is to find me a suitable dead body. I'll be using it to hide my presence in the mortal realm. Go hunt."
She walked through the wall of the concealment cube without breaking it, stepping onto the battlefield.
Then she paused, picked up a broken stick from the ground, and scratched words into the dirt at her feet.
"Is it necessary for me to kill these humans in my pursuit?"
One of the soldiers, a man in full samurai armor with his katana aimed at her throat, found his voice before Death could answer.
"Who are you? Some kind of witch? Answer me!"
Death laughed from inside the cube.
"Her? She isn't a witch. She's a demon. A very strong one at that."
He put a hand to his chin.
"No, don't kill them. Unless they attack you, then you're free to do what you want. Oh, and Mazikeen, do not open your right eye. It will expose our location."
The samurai soldiers closed in around Mazikeen, their armor rattling as they tightened the circle.
Mazikeen's weight shifted to her back foot, one hand raised with her fingers bent like claws, the other hanging loose at her side.
The leaders of each faction locked eyes across the battlefield.
Whatever grudge had brought them here was put on hold the moment they saw what stepped out of that cube.
Without a word exchanged between them, both faction leaders drew their blades and screamed in unison.
"Slay the demon!"
That very same morning, not a single soul on that battlefield survived to tell the story.
***
A sharp tap against Death's skull yanked him back to reality. Pestilence had flicked his forehead with her semi-transparent finger.
"You drifted off. How rude of you."
"Ah, forgive me. I was taking a trip down memory lane. But let me save you the trouble of asking again. I can't help you. Even if I wanted to."
Pestilence took a step back crossing both her hands.
"And why might that be?"
"Well, for starters, I'm chained to a boulder in Purgatory. And unless you plan on waiting for five hundred years, I'm not going anywhere."
"Let us assume I were to free you from these chains. What then? Would you have any more reasons to deny my request?"
Death took a moment before responding.
"Well, the second reason I can't help you is even better. Let's say you do get me out of here and I do help. There's no guarantee I'd be free from the consequences of my own crimes. So, with all that being said, I won't do it."
Pestilence had a wide grin on her face as she showed her rotting teeth.
"Do you know how the chains of Purgatory came to my possession? The very chains forged by the Sovereign to bind countless souls to this forsaken place."
"Uhm, Let me guess you got it from the Archangels?"
Pestilence couldn't help but giggle as she said,
"No. It was Azazel who carried a fragment of those chains. Azazel had came to me with an offer I had no reason to refuse. Deliver you to Purgatory, and in return, they would grant me what you never did. A vessel, through Soul Binding."
What?! Azazel still holds the ability of soul binding? Even after no longer being Death…
"Well then, it seems my time here has run its course. I must return to Conquest and settle the remaining matters before I receive my new vessel."
"You're making a big mistake, little sister. I hope you know that."
A portal opened up as she glanced back at him.
"Goodbye for now, big brother."