#ozmanthus

What if Of the Devil but in the Namiverse?

Bonus

Ozriel is a fascinating character because he is essentially the ultimate Mary Sue, and characters that are superficially similar to him are generally... poorly executed (pun intended).

I've seen some readers just absolutely not vibe with this characterization, they find the fact that Ozriel is simply the best—full stop, literally better than everyone else at the Sacred Arts and beyond—to be very off-putting, because they are used to character like this being flawless, perfect, shallow, two dimensional, poorly written characters, and as such they miss out the actual depth of Ozriel.

Ozriel's superiority is his character flaw. It is the source of all of his problems. It defines his entire lived experience and colors every interaction he has with everyone else, and the fact that it is actual superiority instead of a superiority complex makes it worse.

Inktober day 2 - Ozriel the Reaper

He's so perfect

He'd thought his descendants weak. Not a pleasant thought, but one that made sense. Family could often be a disappointment. That none of his children's children could reach the heights he himself had was always a possible outcome, after all, none could keep pace with him in life, why should they be any more capable without his direction?

But this...

To learn that they had not merely failed, but had rejected his invitation? Placed it on a literal pedestal in a Tomb for the Patriarch who had only ever died by his own will, and then returned even stronger for it? It was enraging.

This Tomb held no corpse other than the dessicated remains of the ambition of his descendants. It was a shrine to a man whose name they spat on with each breath. Tools and gifts he had left behind that they were unwilling to pick up, safe and forgotten under the veneer of reverence and respect.

This place of "honor" had been kept clean, but was otherwise untouched, likely for centuries if not thousands of years. Ozriel picked up the marble and closed his eyes as his modified invitation washed over him, and accepted the bitter reality that no one had ever even seen it.

His eyes opened once more and he firmed himself. Cowards though his children may have once been, these who lived today could be forgiven in their ignorance.

He would simply have to instruct them himself.

Ozriel allowed his veil to slip and waited as the attention of multiple sacred artists washed over him, the bloodline ability he had left them quickly discovering the intruder in their midst. Amongst them, he felt the attention of the Monarch, Tiberian. An unfortunate name for certain, but not everyone got to choose the best part of his name.