Azrael land on the floor swings his scythe back and forth while his black wings fold back. He hums a softly melody while reaping out the left remaining souls from the sinners

"The smell of death... I don't deny it aint a delicate fragrance, hahaha! You demons think can take me on? You'll be dead with the blink of an eye..."

he speaks placing one hand on his hip and leaning his elbow over his scythe, his voice smoothly and smug