Astia jolted awake in terror, her heavy, rapid breaths filling the room. Her gaze was fixed on a corner, almost as if she expected something to emerge from the darkness. She had inadvertently fallen asleep on her couch, and now, upon waking, her mind was a torrent of memories from the past. All the events that had unfolded in recent days rushed back to her like a haunting nightmare.

There was only one thing Astia wanted: the return of Arks. He was her only hope, the one person in this vast empire who truly needed her. Arks was the only individual she felt she could rely on, and his absence had left a deep wound in her heart.

She pushed herself off the couch, her shoulders slumped, and her eyes heavy with fatigue. She wandered aimlessly, silently slipping out of her room. The halls, dimly lit by flickering candles and stretching shadows, felt cold and lifeless to her. Her footsteps were soundless, yet each step drew her deeper into thoughts that troubled her.

As she walked, she unconsciously stopped in front of a door. Glancing around, she suddenly realized she stood outside Arks’s room. Her breath caught; a swirl of conflicting emotions churned in her chest. Could she find Arks inside? Or would the heavy silence be her only answer?

With a trembling hand, she slowly opened the door to Arks’s room. The stillness hung thick in the air as she peered into the cold, empty space. The dark and gray decor remained unchanged, just like the haunting past that revived in her memory. Every corner of the room radiated a sense of stability and stillness, as if time had never touched it.

This room still held the mysterious and heavy aura that Astia recalled from her previous life. She wasn’t surprised; Arks had never shown any desire to change his room's decor. His commitment to the room's appearance mirrored his own character—a person who embraced the darkness as part of himself and felt no need to hide it.

Standing in the doorway with wide eyes and a mind racing with memories, Astia felt the space before her pull her into the past while also reminding her of the loneliness and absence of Arks. 

Astia knew well why she felt this way: guilt. Every time she recalled Arks’s face, that heavy feeling would rise within her. To her, Arks symbolized torment because every thought of him unleashed dark, bloody images from their shared history.

One image she could never escape was the moment she had plunged a sword into Arks's core of energy. Everything in that instant had felt both terrifying and unreal. She had lifted her head and found herself just beginning to grasp her surroundings. She couldn’t even recall what had caused the complete destruction of the angelic royal palace. But one thing that would never fade from her mind was Arks’s gaze.

Despite the pain and suffering etched across his face, Arks had offered her a kind yet painful smile. That smile struck her heart with more force than any words ever could. Then, with a soft, unintelligible whisper, he had murmured, "It’s not your fault."

That simple sentence pierced her heart like a dagger. She couldn’t understand how Arks had managed to comfort her even in that life-threatening moment.

Astia found herself staring at her blood-stained hands, as though the spots were etched not only on her skin but also on her very soul. Her gaze filled with terror as she looked at the person standing before her, yet her mind struggled to understand the chaos surrounding her. Everything was cloaked in a haze of confusion and uncertainty.

She didn’t know what had happened or how she had reached this point. The only clear memory remaining in her mind was of those golden eyes—eyes that seemed to speak to her, eyes that shined in the dark and dragged her back to a bitter, unforgettable past.

Yes, the golden eyes. Those eyes belonged to only one person—someone Astia vividly remembered from her previous life. The most loathsome angel she knew, whose presence was always accompanied by pain and darkness. That memory loomed over her like a heavy shadow, sending tremors through her heart.

Astia muttered to herself, her voice filled with anger and frustration. Her now fierce gaze revealed that she was recalling exactly where all this suffering had begun. Her mind quickly wandered to one person, the one who had brought all of this turmoil into her life.

That person was none other than **Elkin Ralinus**, the current aide to the Supreme Angel, who was destined to assume the position of the Supreme Angel in the not-so-distant future. Just hearing his name stirred waves of hatred and rage within Astia.

With bitterness in her voice, she whispered, "Ralinus, mother was wrong." These words flowed from her, born not only of anger but from the depth of the wounds she carried in her heart.

The position of the Supreme Angel was akin to that of the High Priest among angels, but in Heaven, this role held unparalleled and absolute power. Following the Emperor, the Supreme Angel had full authority over heavenly matters, and even the Emperor had to heed his advice and commands. This position was a dream and incredibly valuable for any angel who could demonstrate sufficient divine power to attain it.

However, there was one rule among angels: the position of the Supreme Angel remained secure only as long as no one reached the level of the Angel of Death. The Angel of Death possessed a power beyond imagination, but no one had ever achieved it. The reason wasn’t due to a lack of ability but rather the fear to venture into the Netherworld—a place where the great secrets of the Book of the Universe lay hidden, in room number 999, one of the twelve gates of the immortals.

This magical and mysterious room had no key for entry or exit. Anyone wishing to enter this gateway had to confront a hard choice: to select between death or endure eight years of grueling hardship. This decision was the heaviest trial any being could face, and so far, no one had been willing to accept such sacrifice and risk.

Astia slowly moved toward the window of Arks's room. The dark night and heavy sky filled with black clouds gave her a strange sensation. She gazed at the lightning that suddenly ripped through the sky. At that moment, something sparked in her mind—an idea that made her heart race. A whisper escaped her lips: "Why didn’t I think of that?"

This idea seemed to offer her a Plan B, a backup option she could turn to if her Plan A failed. Now, that thought formed clearly in her mind: **becoming the Angel of Death.**

Astia paused for a moment, trying to reflect on the past. When had this concept first appeared in her life? Her mind quickly returned to her last moments with her mother. That day in the cottage, before the villagers stormed their home. Her mother, with worried eyes and trembling lips, had told her, "Go find… the Angel of Death..."

This memory fitted into her mind like a missing piece of a puzzle. Now that she recalled it, she asked herself: What did her mother mean? Who was the Angel of Death? More importantly, he didn’t exist in Heaven. So, what had her mother meant?

The sound of footsteps in the hall pulled Astia from her thoughts. Curious yet anxious, she moved toward the door and opened it. At that moment, Atila, one of the castle’s servants, rushed past her room, breathless. When he saw Astia, his eyes lit up with excitement, and he shouted, "Princess… Princess!"

However, Atila, still catching his breath, paused momentarily, making his words barely understandable. Astia, now worried yet curious, said firmly but softly, "Take a breath, Atila. You’ll choke! What’s going on?"

Atila, struggling to regain his breath, said, "The young master has returned." Those words were enough to make Astia’s heart stop for a moment in excitement. With a tone filled with doubt and hope, she whispered, "Arks?…"

Atila beamed and replied, "Yes… and…" But before he could finish his sentence, Astia darted away before he could complete his thought. Excitement and joy surged through her, and she couldn’t wait to hear the rest. All she wanted was to see Arks.

With fervor and impatience, Astia rushed toward the grand staircase. When she spotted Arks standing in the center of the enormous hall, a wave of happiness washed over her. But that feeling didn’t last long. Her expression suddenly changed, and her gaze widened in shock as a scene unfolded before her.

Next to Ryan stood a man who, at first glance, appeared to be a mirror image of him. The same stature, the same powerful presence, but one thing set them apart: the expression in his eyes and the style of his hair. Astia found herself momentarily speechless, a quiet and disbelieving whisper escaping her lips: "What…?"

The man standing there was completely unfamiliar to her, but as she took in every detail, a realization flickered in her mind. This man was none other than **Rayman Carnilimos**, the Emperor’s younger brother and the former Emperor of Heaven. A name that had once been synonymous with both glory and darkness now added a new layer of meaning to this mysterious night.