Morvathos soared through the air, leaving a thin trail of black mist at full speed. Yet despite his velocity, the sky remained undisturbed; no shockwaves, no tearing winds.
If not for his nature, the world below would have seen a black streak ripping across the clouds, breaking the sound barrier over and over again.
His destination was Kamakura, in Kanagawa Prefecture, right beside Tokyo. With his speed, it took only minutes to arrive. There were two reasons for his visit.
First, as Selene had said, there had been an unnatural rise in nether beast activity across Japan. Though Selene came here to investigate,
Morvathos already knew the reason. In Los Angeles the presence of nether energy had been so faint it was almost negligible—he'd nearly dismissed it as a fleeting sensation, a false impression.
But the moment he stepped into Japan, he felt the nether energy saturating the air, far denser than in Los Angeles.
Nether energy was supposed to be deadly to mortals. Their minds and souls should have withered, twisting them into mindless beasts or killing them outright.
Yet here, nothing happened. The only explanation was that a Divine Laws was at work, suppressing the energy's effect on humans. But suppression didn't stop its nature—it still gathered and gave form to vengeful spirits, turning them into nether beasts.
The second reason was far more personal: Kamakura was where he had grown up, and where his parents were buried.
His parents had died when he was twenty, in a car accident. He hadn't been there when it happened.
His father, a Tibetan immigrant, had come to Japan and married into his mother's family. The man had been a giant—six foot seven, bulky, yet terrified of his small five-foot-six wife.
Morvathos had inherited his habit of drinking green tea with chicken momo from him.
He landed silently in the graveyard, black mist dispersing around him. Two gravestones stood before him: Tsukasa Itsuki and Shion Itsuki.
For a long moment he simply stared at them, still and silent. Old memories surged, crashing down like a tidal wave.
His fierce mother. His timid father, who could intimidate anyone just by standing near them, yet became a nervous wreck in front of his wife. Their bickering, their laughter.
He'd moved out as a teenager to grow up independent. And when he heard of their deaths, he'd been shattered.
The next few years of his life were blank spaces filled with pain. If not for his best friend, he might not have survived at all.
Morvathos crouched down. His eyes stung, but he did not cry. His pride wouldn't allow it, and he knew his parents wouldn't want him to, either.
Though he had changed, he was still their son. Even his godly pride—his claim to kingship of Hell—didn't make him reject his mortal parents. Instead, it deepened his gratitude. He felt proud to call them his parents.
He brushed away the fungus coiling around the stones and smiled bitterly. Then he began to speak, recounting what had happened to him.
He didn't remember his own death clearly, but he recalled fragments from the year it happened. He told them about his new life, his new duty.
"Can you believe it, Mom? I can punch through walls, fly through the sky, even rip souls. I've become a true anime protagonist, Mom."
He murmured in a low voice.
His mother had been an otaku through and through, an anime geek to her core. His father never understood her enthusiasm but still followed wherever she dragged him—exhibitions, screenings, manga shops, everything.
And she had dragged young Morvathos along, too. That was where his secret love of anime had begun. Very few people knew about it now, but it was a part of him—thanks to her.
He could almost see her now, jumping up and down, hugging him in excitement if she could witness his powers.
Morvathos stood, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply, letting the emotions settle. Morning sunlight spilled across the graveyard.
People were only just waking up, heading to work. Few visitors wandered among the stones.
He walked from the cemetery to the beach and let himself become visible to mortal eyes. His shoes dissolved into black mist, bare feet sinking into the sand and cool surf. He stared at the rising sun.
A fire of determination burned in his chest. Before, he had acted out of survival and duty. Now it was personal. He had to save the Earth—not just as God of Death but as their son.
Somewhere in this world, his parents' souls might have reincarnated and be living new lives. He couldn't let them down.
This time he would protect them—not directly, but by saving the world itself.
He opened his eyes, resolve sharpening. It was time to investigate the true cause of all this.
The density of nether energy here was far higher than Tokyo. He could feel its origin: a crack in space, a rift connecting the underworld to Earth. It was leaking nether energy and spawning nether beasts.
According to the Divine Rules, no higher beings were allowed to step into mortal worlds unless they were native to them.
But since the Divine Laws allowed nether energy in, he could only guess that they were planning something big and if he was not prepared before that happened, him and Earth will be done for.
But first, he needed to fully grasp the situation. Although he was sure on what all this was about but he wanted to confirm first. He could be wrong. And he hoped he was.