Marvel: Son of TOAA

Chapter 2: The Life of the Creator's Firstborn

Azrael, the First Son of the Creator, was a being unlike any other. While the multiverse trembled at the mere thought of him, he spent his days indulging in the luxuries his boundless power afforded. To him, creation was a playground—a vast canvas on which he painted his whims and desires.

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Azrael's arrogance was unparalleled, yet it was not without reason. From the moment of his birth, he had been revered, feared, and admired. Planets bowed to him, and the stars themselves seemed to brighten in his presence. He reveled in his superiority, considering all others beneath him.

"Do you not know who I am?" Azrael would often say, his voice dripping with disdain. "I am the Firstborn. The universe bends to my will. Show me something of value, or be gone."

He traveled from one corner of the multiverse to another, visiting worlds both grand and humble. In his wake, civilizations trembled, for Azrael's moods dictated the fates of entire planets. If displeased, he might extinguish a star with a mere wave of his hand. Yet, if amused or intrigued, he might bestow gifts of unimaginable power upon the worthy.

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Azrael's one passion, besides asserting his dominance, was collecting. He sought rare artifacts, unique creations, and treasures that embodied the beauty of existence. From shimmering crystals that sang melodies of creation to ancient weapons forged in the fires of dying stars, Azrael's collection grew with every journey.

In one corner of his realm, he built a gallery—an infinite space filled with his prized possessions. Planets encased in glass, celestial weapons, and murals painted with starlight adorned the chamber. To Azrael, this collection was more than just a hobby; it was proof of his superiority, a testament to his ability to shape and acquire the finest things in existence.

Occasionally, he created artifacts of his own—items imbued with fragments of his immense power. These artifacts were works of art, their beauty rivaled only by their destructive potential. Sometimes, Azrael would gift these creations to those who pleased him, sparking legends across the multiverse of a benevolent yet unpredictable god.

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Despite his grandeur, Azrael could not escape the faint pangs of loneliness. He was the First Son of the Creator, but he was alone in his existence. The other cosmic entities either feared him or kept their distance, unwilling to confront a being whose power rivaled their own.

One day, amidst his vast collection, Azrael decided to create something new—not a weapon or an artifact, but a companion. With a wave of his hand, he shaped her from the fabric of creation itself.

She was a being of elegance and grace, her form shimmering with a soft, radiant light. Her eyes held the wisdom of the cosmos, and her voice was soothing yet authoritative. She knelt before Azrael, her head bowed.

"What is your will, my creator?" she asked, her voice echoing softly in the endless chamber.

Azrael regarded her with a satisfied smirk. "I am Azrael, and you shall serve me. I have created you because even I tire of solitude. You will be my assistant, my confidant, and my voice when I deem it necessary."

He named her Liora, meaning "light of my realm." Liora quickly proved invaluable, managing Azrael's ever-expanding collection and offering counsel during his fits of boredom or frustration. She was the only being who could speak to Azrael without fear, her existence tied to his whims yet guided by her own innate wisdom.

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Azrael's travels across the multiverse became the stuff of legend—and terror. On one occasion, he visited a golden world whose people were known for their arrogance and decadence. Intrigued by their audacity, Azrael descended upon them, his radiant form darkening the skies.

The king of this world, unaware of who Azrael was, dared to challenge him. "What gives you the right to trespass on our lands?" the king demanded.

Azrael's laughter echoed like thunder. "What gives you the right to exist in my multiverse?" With a flick of his hand, the planet's sun dimmed, plunging the world into darkness. "I suggest you reconsider your tone."

The king fell to his knees, begging for mercy. Azrael, bored with the display, created a magnificent crown made of stardust and placed it on the king's head. "Let this remind you of your place," he said, his voice cold.

As Azrael departed, the people whispered prayers of gratitude and fear, knowing their lives had been spared by the whims of a god.

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Despite his indulgences, Azrael could not escape a growing sense of dissatisfaction. His collection was vast, his power unparalleled, yet something felt missing. He often confided in Liora during these moments.

"Why do I feel this... emptiness?" Azrael asked one day as he sat on a throne carved from the heart of a dying star.

Liora, ever patient, replied, "Perhaps it is not your power or possessions that define you, but your purpose. You were created to be free, my lord, but even freedom requires meaning."

Azrael scoffed, yet her words lingered. For the first time, he began to wonder if there was more to existence than domination and indulgence.

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(A/N): comment/ give power stones for new chapters. Also feel free to give your opinions of the story.