Chapter 1
Angel of Death.

Everything would change when a certain Demacian child was born. At first glance, the child would appear perfectly healthy. 2 arms, 2 legs, 10 fingers, and a pair of beautiful azure eyes. The problem lied within. The child could not see, could not hear, could not speak nor could he even move. He had no means of surviving.
But the child was not afraid. He did not cry because he could not use his throat. But even if he could, he probably wouldn't have.
The child knew. That even without any means of survival... he would survive.
The people around him treated him like a treasure. They realized that by touching him, parts they were missing would gradually be filled.
Those with ailing lungs saw their lungs healed. The lonely had their hearts filled. The timid were filled with courage. Even those who lost their legs slowly regained them.
What the child had was the power to impart his soul.
His soul would be bestowed whenever he was touched. Wounds that could not be healed on their own would be healed. At the same time, while their wounds were healing, the knowledge they'd gained, abilities they'd acquired, talents that blossomed, all of it... were ingrained in the pieces of the child's soul given to them. And all of that would return to the child when they died.
Those who touched the child did not live for long. A few years. A few months. Some would die after only a few days. Yet the people kept flocking to the child.
Every time a piece of his soul returned... the child's unmoving arms and legs... and his eyes that could not see, would slowly heal. Eventually... as his unhearing ears were hearing... he realized the people were calling him by a strange title.

Angel.

The boys' parents knew that they could make a fortune off of their child, so they charged every stranger who would come and greet the proclaimed messiah.
Years went by, and the abilities of the child were vanishing. As if they voluntarily became dormant. Thus the people who were glued to him like a moth to a flame disappeared. One could say, this was done unconsciously by the child.
Leaving the child and his family, alone.
The news of the masses dying didn't go unnoticed by the child's parents, they would recognize the faces of those who had met their child.
Cripples, nobles, commoners, peasants. They all died the same.
Eyes wide open, with shock visible in their eyes, the father and mother looked at their child and vowed to each other to never tell their child of the truth.
The child, who at the time was still nameless, was finally given a name.
Azrael, meaning
Angel of Death.

Present:
After a long walk to his destination, the boy finally arrived.
The place was called District 1. The supposed haven for the remaining humans. The place looked modern and ancient, hopeful yet melancholy, a fitting place for the last remnants of humans and Vastayan.
Gazing to his left, Azrael could discern a dimly lighted cafe with a huge sign which said, Chrysanthemum, managed by what seemed a Vastayan and a Noxian.
That's right, Vastayans and Noxians at the same place, working together. A couple of years ago that would've been a sight from a dream, and yet here it is. A reality.
A loud noise strayed Azrael away from his thoughts, his stomach was growling like a wild beast, unfed for days. Deciding that the place seemed cozy enough for a little bite, Azrael approach the cafe.
The Vastayan girl, who at the time was cleaning the tables with a low-spirited expression, noticed Azrael approaching. She was able to quickly change her expression from gloomy, to cheery in an instant, a mask, so to say. Though as good as she was, it did not go unnoticed by Azrael.
He noticed the facade but kept silent.
"~Hello, dear customer!~," Said the girl, "Welcome to Chrysanthemum, at the end of the world!"
"An interesting name," thought Azrael.
"Hello," greeted Azrael, " Espresso, please."
"Right away!"
The girl sprinted away, and while doing so, Azrael could notice the rusty and old tables of the cafe.
"Barely any customers, huh?" He thought.

It wasn't a surprise to be quite frank. A cafe was the least of one's priorities in these dire times.
And yet.
It seemed to bring hope to some, to even have a cafe, was a reminder of the good old days.
Before the portals opened, before the screaming started.
Before the heroes of humanity fell.
Years ago whenever I'd feel small or lonely. I'd look up at the stars.
Wondered if there was life up there.
Turns out I was looking
in the wrong direction.
When alien life entered our world it was
from deep beneath the sea.
A portal between dimensions.
The Void.

"Here ya go~!" Said the girl, which brought Azrael back from his thoughts.
"Thank you."

The girl turned to walk away but decided to cure her curiosity.
"Y-You don't look Ionian, are you from the west, stranger?" Asked the girl in a curious tone.
Azrael's eyes opened slightly, he didn't expect her to ask him a question.
"Azrael."
"Huh?" Replied the girl. "That's not a place I've heard of!"
Azrael raised his eyebrow.
"That's my na-" Before Azrael could finish his sentence, the girl interrupted him by shaking his hand aggressively up and down.
"Pleased to meet you stranger from Azrael! Oh my, to think I sucked this much at geography!"

A question mark was all that could appear inside Azrael's mind.

After a couple of minutes of introduction, the boy quickly downed the coffee and left the cafe. The girl truly was sweet, though very weird.

Not even 50 steps and he would finally arrive at his destination
The reason for his journey here was to fight in the frontlines, any man or woman, no matter the background, was obliged to fight.
"Company 8, huh?" That was the company Azrael was assigned to.
Walking by the various Companies, he would notice the different insignias assigned to the divisions. The 1st division's insignia, which was led by the commander Kai'sa, was a strelitzia, which signified the Bird of Paradise.

The 4th division's insignia, which was led by a woman whose skin was purple, was for example a bellflower, which meant Respite to the fallen, it served as a medical division.
Finally arriving at the doorstep of his division, Azrael discerned the insignia of his division.
It was an Iris, which signified,
Hope.

End.