Angel

When the Gods abandoned our world, they didn't just strip away their blessings—they stole Death itself. Humanity was left to rot. Afflicted by a cosmic curse known as the Ever-Blight, humans no longer die. Instead, their souls are trapped in decaying, immortal vessels, transforming cities into screaming purgatories of Hollows—mindless, breathing corpses driven by eternal agony. Elijah lost everything to the Blight. Forced to wander the ashen wastelands alone, his only goal was survival. But when the black veins of the Blight finally crept up his arm, he didn't turn into a Hollow. Instead, an Angel of Death descended, tore his soul from his rotting flesh, and cast him into the Crucible of Genesis—a savage, fractured dimension where rogue gods, celestial horrors, and primordial demons wage an endless war. Here, true death is a luxury, and the "deceased" of Earth are reborn as Vanguards, immortal soldiers forced to fight for the very deities who cursed their world. But Elijah didn't awaken as a mere soldier. He awakened the Akashic Mandate, an ancient, forbidden cosmic law etched into his soul. It grants him a terrifying power: the ability to permanently devour the souls, magic, and lifespans of any monster, demon, or god he slays. In a universe where true death is extinct, Elijah becomes the Reaper. To break the curse on Earth and avenge humanity, he must carve a bloody path to the throne of the Gods. But as he devours the divine and the demonic alike, Elijah faces a horrifying choice: will he restore the cycle of life and death, or will he become a calamity far worse than the Gods he seeks to destroy?

"Ma, Samson promises. Samson is going to repent; I won’t be a thug anymore. I'm going to find a real, honest job. So please, Ma, don't come back to haunt me, okay?" Samson knelt, tears streaming down his face, though his expression still looked like someone ready to pick a fight with the Angel of Death. Bejo held out an umbrella. "Boss, it’s almost sunset. We need to go collect the 'protection money' from the cafe owner," he said. "Hey, Bejo! I just promised Ma that I’ve repented. You little devil! Do you want my mother to rise from her grave because of what you just said, huh?!" Samson stood up. His towering height, nearly two meters, made Bejo instinctively jump back three steps. "But Boss, our stomachs aren't exactly followers of the repentance movement," Bejo squeaked, trembling. Samson wiped his fierce face. "From this second on, call me Samson the Protector. I’m going to find honest work. Anything! As long as I'm not shaking people down anymore." A wealthy woman looked Samson up and down, scrutinizing him. "Your body is quite large. It just so happens I need a new guard dog. I just fired the old one because he was afraid of cockroaches." Samson was ready to explode. "Hey, lady! You think I—" "Fifty million a month. Meals are provided, and you get an Italian suit for a uniform. Interested?" the woman interrupted, handing him a gold-plated business card. Samson fell silent. He then whispered under his breath, "Ma, this is honest work, right? Just being a guard dog for a billionaire."