Prologue

The world around him was filled with people mindless, easily manipulated, and not a lick of entertainment because all it took him was a simple glare and the rest of the lambs would huddle together trying to appease him and if he was going, to be honest. It's all pointless and tiring to even pursue anything due to how his minions being incompetent fools that won't speak their minds and add things or at least question him, of course, he wouldn't let them get away with it but he just wants a challenge.

With a shake of his head, Alexander Marvolo Cyrus, the greatest Dark Sorcery of his time was undoubtedly tired with the backwash ways of the magical community and how the opposing side was so deadset on the fact that Light is good, he scoffed and decided to just call it quits.

He was just because people don't want any kind of change, with his coat on and sentimental values in the pocket dimension, he walked out the manor doors before teleporting away to an unknown location where he could just begin a mundane life, a life he thought he wouldn't get to have with all the hectic life he had himself going. 'You really that running away from your path is going to erase all the lives you've killed?' He glanced at the shadow-like appearance of a wolf that appeared beside him. "I am not afraid of what I've done, I regret nothing for pursuing something in the name of Magick." He said tiredly while the wolf just walked beside him. 'If that's the case then why did you run away in the middle of battle?' Alexander looked at the wolf with a half-lidded look and shrugged. "I felt like it wasn't working anymore." He said in a bored tone but the wolf saw right through him and scoffed. 'Someday, your own words and actions will come back and bite you in the most unexpected way.' He said before disappearing back into the shadows while Alexander was left alone with his thoughts and the uncomfortable feeling of his emotions.

He approached a road long forgotten, hidden by ancient trees and wards to keep any unwanted wayward passersby, he left the base during night time while over here was an approaching sunrise that gives this sense of peace. The days of the war was something he hated, a constant of paranoia and uncertainty, barely distinguishing which people were friends from foe and how everyone seems to want a piece of his time just to validate their concerns. They were all lambs, pieces in his game of chess. The manor in front of him was a gift from his Uncle that was unfortunately lost in the causality of war, he hated it, the only person that cared for him, dead while those who don't deserve to live.

He growled in annoyance before he knew it, he threw a spell at the unsuspecting tree and it exploded. One, two, and several more trees exploded from the wrath of the tired Lord who only wanted to change the old ways because of how backwash they are, he respected the tradition but all the other things such as the laws, how if you weren't a descent of the noble family you weren't allowed to claim your inheritance or anything at all and the moment they find that you have the Blood of the Profane in your system everything you ever worked hard for disappeared, the friends you thought would stay at your side gone, the love of your life that promised to accept you no matter what ends up leaving you, and your hard-earned reputation utterly destroyed. He was infuriated from losing it all and decided to hell with the lot of them.

Alexander brought chaos on them from a simple open-minded opinion that called people to his side, each having their story of loss due to the backwash system of the Magical Council. Nobles and Ancients who weren't pleased with the system backed him up, they rallied and brought the war to the doors of the Magical Council but the Council won't let them win easily. He remembered all those innocent lives that the Council sacrificed, in that very trap he was marked as the Dark Lord but did he care?

He closed his eyes and remembered the ground that covered the ground and the soldiers who were easily slaughtered by him as he saw who was leading the front, he clenched the soil, and magic coiled around him as he grieved the deaths that could have been prevented. With a deep sigh, he grounded himself before he destroys anything else. Sometimes, he wondered who he was when he wears the mask of Azrael, the Dark Lord who was framed by the Magical Council, or was he Alexander Marvolo Cyrus? The man who lost everything for having the Blood of a Profane?

If it was just possible to go back at a certain point in his life where he could just hide everything, he would but then again if he didn't then he wouldn't know the true colors of those who once called his friends. He was going senile and it was just day one of leaving the base, all thoughts and deaths began entering his mind like a relentless tsunami, unyielding and unforgivable as he was constantly drowned in one emotion.

It was pure pandemonium as everyone searched for their missing Leader but one person merely sighed as he watched everyone run around like chickens. "This is bad, Lord Azrael is missing and the Council made a move towards the Western Lands." One headless chicken to another, a silver-haired man frowned. "Johan, it's not like our Lord would abandon us during a crucial time." Jonah, a tanned imposing figure that stands proudly at an impressive six foot three, dark brown tussles and piercing blue eyes with a scar on his left cheek. "He wouldn't, Lucien. You of all people know what Alexander is going through, the bastard is overwhelmed we should take care of these headless chickens before he comes back and hexes us for our incompetence." He drawled while Lucien frowned, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursued at the thought. "I know that he is overworked." Lucien was a man of patience and he understands that even the strongest is prone to be overwhelmed with a stressful situation.

He shares Jonah's impressive height but his skin is pale as moonlight, eyes are in a shade of glittering emeralds, he had an angelic or androgynous appearance that makes people mistake him for a tall woman, it didn't help that he had silky long platinum blonde hair that was braided and put at the side. "Besides, his heart needs to heal after..." Jonah shared a look with him before they both stared at the night sky.

What Alexander didn't expect was that everything in the manor was still intact, clean, and very livable but it lacked food which made him slightly annoyed because he even left his servant at the base. With a shake of his head, he looked at the mirror where he changed the color of his hair from its midnight black shade it turned to a horribly bright blonde shade which no one would associate him with, and his piercing coal-black eyes turned to a light brown shade. He double-checked his appearance before steeping outside, as the wards within the manor prevented it, teleporting to the nearby town. It was a quaint little town, people who knew everyone else and have the tendency to gossip like children, if he wanted to blend in he would have to mingle and...socialize, he shuddered at the thought before entering the market place.

With everything just beginning to start, there were, fortunately, fewer people but that didn't stop how people still stared at him. He forgot that these people were out of the main battle, they only know of the war but they were far from the battlefield. "What can I get you?" The straightforward question of the person selling him vegetables was something he admired and pointed at the several selections of vegetables that he still fortunately recognized to make a simple stew for the night. "Is that all?" He gave a curt nod before leaving, less interaction that way and less chitchat that won't grate his frail nerves.

As he was about to exit the town, he passed by an alleyway where he heard someone shout.

"Get away from me you bloody perverted sorry excuse of a male!"