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The Rise Of The God Of Death
*Chapter 6: The Love That Never Lasts*
Daimon approached Jarul with a gentle but hopeful request. "May I take Lucy with me for a while? I want to buy her some snacks and spend some time playing."
Jarul smiled warmly and nodded, sensing the unusual bond forming between the god of death and his daughter.
Holding Lucy's small hand in his, Daimon asked softly, "What kind of snacks do you want, Lucy?"
Her eyes sparkled as she cheerfully replied, "Uncle Daimon, let's go get some *candyyyyy!*"
Daimon felt an unfamiliar warmth flood his chest, and a faint blush colored his cheeks. The way she called him "uncle" made him feel something he hadn't in centuries—happiness.
"Alright, little Lucy. Let's get you some candy," he said with a rare smile.
Together they wandered the lively streets, laughter echoing between them as they picked out sweets of every color and flavor. Their connection grew deeper with every shared smile and joyful moment.
When they finally headed back toward Lucy's home, their happiness was suddenly shattered.
A dark plume of black smoke spiraled into the sky nearby, casting a menacing shadow over the peaceful street. Lucy's face crumpled in fear, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Daimon's expression hardened. Without hesitation, he scooped her up and sprinted forward with every muscle straining, his speed and power pushing beyond limits.
Ahead, two figures cloaked in black stood amid the smoke, flames flickering in their hands. Their power level was around Commander rank—dangerous but nothing Daimon couldn't handle.
Yet Daimon's eyes narrowed in recognition.
With quiet fury laced with cold calm, he growled, "It seems he sent you here, right? Omniverse 10 scum."
"These lands aren't yours."
The two assassins stiffened with fear. Daimon's knowledge of their identities terrified them beyond measure.
Before they could react, Daimon moved with blinding speed—almost teleporting. His palm slammed down onto the first assassin, sending him crashing into the cracked earth, a huge crater forming beneath.
The second begged for mercy, eyes wide with terror. Daimon ignored him completely, advancing without hesitation.
The desperate assassin whispered, "Who… who are you?"
Daimon smirked darkly. "I am the god of death… Daimon."
"I defeated death itself to come for you again."
His voice was chilling, a prophecy of doom.
With a swift swipe of his hand near the assassin's head, half of it was gruesomely severed, splattering blood onto the ground.
"Everyone's time is coming…"
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