《Azrael, The Strongest Slayer》


 Prologue: The Shadow without a Master

    ---Nocturne, Age of Twilight---


    Legends are not born from nothing.


    They are forged in blood, steel, and the darkness of endless nights.


    Some men become kings. Others become martyrs.


    But only a few become legends.


    Among all the tales whispered under the cloak of night, there is one that has never died.


    A name spoken in fear by vampires, a shadow feared even by those who lurk in the abyss.


    A name that should not exist.


    A name that refuses to fade.


    Azrael Noctis.


    The Slayer Without Magic.


    The Executioner of the Night.


    The Man Who Never Falls.


    The human angel of death.


    Everybody in this world knows this name.


    Some people say it''s a fake, others say that he really existed.


    But despite that, only one truth is still remembered:


    His legend has been told since centuries.


    ---Stormy Night ¨C A Forgotten Tavern


    The wooden beams of the abandoned tavern groaned under the weight of the storm outside.


    Wind howled through shattered windows, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant blood. Inside, a handful of men huddled around a dying fire.


    They were not noble knights or wealthy lords.


    They were hunters, mercenaries, men who had seen death and laughed in its face.


    Hunters of the night, people with no family, who made the art of killing their job.


    They were all part of the same organization, known as "The Undying Night".


    That night, in that tavern... the mood was very unsettling.


    They used to laugh, to have fun, to rest...


    But that night, no one laughed.


    No one drank.


    An old man, wrapped in a ragged cloak, spoke in a low, cracked voice.


    "You felt it too, didn''t you?"


    The others exchanged uneasy glances.


    Finally, one of them¡ªa man with a scar splitting his cheek¡ªmuttered, "The shadow in the woods?"


    The old man nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he held them near the embers.


    "He''s back."


    A shiver passed through the room.


    One of the younger men scoffed, forcing out a nervous chuckle. "Ridiculous. Azrael Noctis died centuries ago. Just another ghost story for cowards."


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    "So... why did you immediately think about him...?" The old man said.


    The young hunter laughed in a nervous way and repeated the same words.


    "Come on, old man. That man died, and nobody believes about his story. It has... so many incongruences." He said.


    The old man shook his head. "No. He never died. He is like the night itself... he always returns."


    Silence.


    "Who was he, really?" someone finally asked, voice hushed, as if fearing the answer.


    The old man wet his lips and began to speak.


    "Be ready, boy. This is gonna be... a long story..."


    ---Six Hundred Years Ago---


    He was born neither king nor prophet. Not a chosen hero, nor a divine warrior.


    Azrael Noctis was born without magic, without a sacred blessing, without fate on his side.


    Yet he became the most feared being among those who ruled the night.


    From a young age, he displayed a strength beyond reason, a mastery of the sword no ordinary human should possess.


    They said he could fight for days without faltering.


    They said his heart beat so slowly that even death forgot to claim him.


    They said he was not a man, but a force¡ªone that no magic could bind, no darkness could swallow.


    But there was one truth above all others.


    Azrael Noctis did not kill humans. Only Vampires.


    Not because he was merciful. Not because he was a hero.


    But because he knew that humans, in their weakness, would destroy themselves without his help.


    "I slay vampires, not demons," he once said. "Demons will be destroyed by the weight of their own sins."


    And so his legend was born.


    A legend that never ended.


    Present Night ¨C Nox Eternum Forest.


    A lone man ran through the forest, his breath ragged, his legs burning with exhaustion.


    The torn fabric of his cloak snagged against branches, but he didn''t stop.


    Because behind him, there were things.


    The sounds of guttural snarls. The rush of air as something moved unnaturally fast through the trees.


    Vampires.


    They were hunting him.


    They wanted his dirty blood.


    The beasts were hungry...


    He stumbled forward, spotting an opening in the trees ahead.


    A chance.


    But the moment he broke free from the suffocating shadows of the woods, he froze in place.


    Someone was already there.


    A tall figure stood at the edge of the path, motionless.


    His black cloak, tattered and heavy, barely moved in the wind. His wild black hair caught the faint silver glow of the moon.


    But it was his eyes that made the man''s breath catch in his throat.


    Cold. Unwavering. Glowing blue in the darkness.


    Like twin stars, burning with something ancient. Something unstoppable.


    The figure took a step forward.


    The runner swallowed hard. "No... it can''t be you."


    The warrior said nothing.


    Then, finally, in a voice deep, quiet, and absolute, he spoke.


    "Stop running."


    The man choked on his breath. "The vampires¡­ they''re coming¡­"


    The warrior did not blink.


    "I know."


    And in that moment, the man understood that he was safe.


    This wasn''t a nightmare.


    It was him.


    It was Azrael Noctis.


    And for the first time in centuries¡­


    the night itself began to tremble.


    -------


    Back to the tavern-


    "This is one of the great legends that this country has to offer.


    After that night, the man said that Azrael destroyed all those monster in only one single hit before disappearing into the moonlight.


    But, of course, nobody knows the truth.


    Voices, voices and voices.


    His legend is enveloped in darkness and lies.


    Some even says that his bloodline continued and became cursed after falling in love with a vampire.


    Legends are born when people are in the right places at the right time...


    And every single legend becomes a lie when people stop caring about.


    Who knows...?


    It''s up to people to believe those words... but me?? I''m 100% sure that Azrael Noctis truly existed...


    Why, you ask? Oh... well... the answer is simple.


    How could a simple human man literally create a cult that lasted over 600 years? Nobody could...


    And why are so many hunters inspired by his legend? Why is his blacksword still being kept as a relic ?


    A legend? HAH! Not true! That man existed for real! I''m 100% sure about that."


    ---


    The old man kept talking and talking, with people at his table looking at him with a confused look.


    They didn''t believe his words.


    They only thought that the man in front of them was crazy.


    Crazy.


    What a beautiful word to indicate someone who thinks with his own head...


    The young hunter spoke.


    "Then, why are vampires still hurting people? Didn''t the legend say that he had destroyed them all? Why would an immortal legend like him even allow people dying?" He asked, with a mocking tone of voice.


    The old man stopped smiling.


    "Why do you allow people dying ? The corps... are corrupted. They are creating new monsters... otherwise they would lose their job... Azrael never killed a single man, that''s why..." The old man said.


    The people sat on the table kept thinking that the man was nothing more than a crazy person.


    And that''s why they suddenly left him alone with the younger one.


    "You see, young man? Only sheeps won''t listen." He said, while drinking a glass of beer.


    "I''m sorry... but I think that I also need to-" The hunter tried to say, but the man interrupted him.


    "No... the best part is about to come... just listen to me..." He said...

 The Awakening of the night

    Azrael


    "Azrael Noctis..." Just the sound of that name made the night itself tremble...His figure could even eclipse the moon.A man, a deity, a monster¡ªno one truly knows what Azrael was.


    The only certainty is that his name will echo through eternity, a warning to all vampires.Even today, many hunters are inspired by his legend, training relentlessly to fight in his style.


    They train for hours, days, weeks, even years¡ªonly to try and be like him.


    --------


    That night, Azrael''s figure appeared before a man desperately fleeing from vampires.Those monsters had slaughtered all his companions.He had survived purely by luck.


    A pack of rogue vampires had ambushed their group of hunters that very night. But something was off.Something didn''t make sense.


    Their camp had been shielded by a magical barrier¡ªit should have been invisible¡­ and yet, they had been found.


    The man kept running, clinging to a hope that seemed to fade with every step.Fortunately, he was a hunter, well-trained for such risks... but the vampires he had encountered were different.They acted with flawless precision, coordinated, strategic¡ªas if someone were guiding them from the shadows.


    The man gripped his silver katana tightly, his knuckles white.


    "No¡­ no¡­ NO!!! pant I CAN''T DIE NOW! I STILL HAVE SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR!" he screamed as he ran desperately toward the edge of the forest.


    The only answer he received was the sound of malicious laughter echoing between the trees.


    Glowing red eyes gleamed in the darkness, his only company as he fled.He was surrounded. Alone. And the scent of his fear made him an easy target.


    The vampires hadn''t caught him yet...Perhaps they were toying with him, savoring his terror.


    There was a rumor that vampires enjoyed playing with their prey before devouring them¡ªjust like cats with mice.


    Creatures of the dark, children of the night and evil¡­ born with only one instinct¡ªto feed on human blood.Pale white skin, lifeless veins, eternally youthful faces¡­


    These were the vampires.Monsters¡ªbut beautiful ones.


    "Where are you going, hunter?" a dark voice whispered among the trees."You do know you can''t escape death, right?" another voice chimed in, this one feminine.


    The man didn''t answer. He just ran, breathing heavily, his adrenaline the only thing keeping him on his feet.His breath grew faster, shallower.He could collapse at any moment.


    The cruel laughter echoed through the trees as countless blood-red eyes followed him.


    Then¡ªhe saw it.


    A glimpse of freedom.


    The trees finally ended.Before him stretched a vast field, with a village in the distance.


    Maybe... he was safe.


    But that night, fate had decided to turn its back on him.


    The village was too far.And his body, pushed beyond its limits, finally gave out.


    He collapsed onto the ground, unable to catch his breath.


    His blood ran cold.Fear took hold of his heart.


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    He knew he was doomed.And yet, even so, he tried to crawl forward, dragging himself with his remaining strength.


    Behind him, a burst of malicious laughter rang out, followed by slow, deliberate applause and the sound of footsteps on the dirt.


    "Well done¡­ you entertained us¡­ but I think it''s time to end this. We''re running late."


    The hunter turned his head.


    Before him stood ten figures, men and women dressed in strange, immaculate clothing.They all wore the same uniform.


    Pure white.


    Their outfits were unnervingly elegant¡ªlike noble attire worn at private banquets.


    But among them, one figure stood out.


    Probably their leader.


    Blood-red eyes, a towering physique, smooth pale skin, long white hair cascading down his back.A strikingly handsome figure, his features both youthful and mature at the same time...


    But despite his beauty, the only thing he radiated at that moment was pure, unadulterated fear.


    Terrified, the hunter clutched his silver katana tighter.


    "S-STAY BACK, MONSTERS!!" he shouted as his blade glowed with a bright white light.


    The vampire leader laughed.


    "Do you really think you''re in a position to call us monsters, human?" he said, taking slow steps toward him.


    "STAY AWAY!" the hunter screamed again, crawling backward and swinging his sword in the air.


    "How pathetic..." one of the vampires muttered from behind their leader.


    "I admire your desperate will to live, hunter... but unfortunately, we have a dream to fulfill. And you filthy humans¡­ are in our way."


    The hunter continued to crawl back.His eyes were wide open, tears of terror streaming down his face.


    Then, the vampire leader crouched down and grabbed the hunter''s sword arm.


    His grip was crushing.The hunter felt his blood stop flowing.


    And in that exact moment, his sword fell from his hand.


    He was completely disarmed.And almost dead.


    With his other hand, the vampire leader grasped the hunter''s chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.


    Then, he stared deep into his soul.


    His crimson gaze was cold, unmoving.The hunter''s body froze.


    His breath slowed.His heartbeat steadied.His fear... faded.


    A few moments later, the vampire let him go.


    "You are not a bad person... just a soul led astray. The only mercy I can offer is a painless death..." the vampire leader whispered.


    Then, he stood up, leaving the hunter motionless, still under the effects of his hypnotic gaze.


    "Gravil... finish him quickly, without pain. Then you may feed."


    From the group of vampires, a younger one stepped forward.His face was gentle, almost pure¡­ with short, tousled hair, crimson eyes, pale skin, and the stature of a young prince.


    "Yes, Lord Gudras. As you command." he said with a bow, then approached the hunter lying on the ground.


    From Gravil''s hands, a strange magic formed.


    It looked like flames, rising into the air.But it wasn''t fire.


    It was blood magic¡ªa forbidden art that transformed the power of blood into anything.


    The flames took shape, forming a magic projectile.


    Then, the young vampire raised his arm, aiming directly at the hunter''s heart.


    "Consider yourself lucky that Lord Gudras showed you mercy, hunter." he whispered.


    He charged the spell.Then, just as he was about to strike¡ª


    A sound echoed across the ground.


    Footsteps.


    But not ordinary footsteps.


    The vampires froze.


    One by one, they turned toward the source of the sound.


    For some strange reason, they all felt something deep within their undead hearts.


    A sensation they hadn''t known in centuries.


    "What''s wrong, Gravil?" Lord Gudras asked, seeing his hesitation.


    "I-I don''t know... my arm is trembling... on its own..." Gravil whispered.


    At that moment, the air around them grew heavier¡ªas if the night itself had begun to tremble.


    And then, from the shadows¡ªa figure emerged.


    Someone had arrived.Or perhaps¡­ had been waiting.


    A black cloak, tattered and heavy.


    Wild black hair, swaying in the wind, reflecting the silver moonlight.


    Before the vampires stood a young man¡­ perhaps in his early twenties.A massive black greatsword rested on his back.


    For the first time in perhaps hundreds of years, the vampires felt fear creep down their spines.


    But not ordinary fear.


    A fear that had always lurked within their rotten souls.


    The vampires all fixated on him, instantly recognizing the threat.


    But what stood out the most¡­ were his eyes.


    Cold. Unwavering.


    Glowing with an intense blue light.


    Lord Gudras took a step forward, intrigued.


    "Who are you, human?" he asked challengingly.


    The man remained silent.


    He scanned the vampires.


    The surroundings.


    Then, he finally spoke.


    "Me? I''m just a human."


    he answered, his voice cold.


    Lord Gudras stiffened, knowing that the man in front of him was a real threat.


    "No¡­ you are much more. What is your name?" Gravil asked.


    The young man unsheathed his greatsword.


    "Since you showed mercy to that human¡­ I''ll tell you."


    He raised his blade.


    "My name is¡­ Azrael. Azrael Noctis."


    And in that moment¡ªthe vampires knew they were in danger.

 The night is trembling...

    The vampires froze.


    Silence fell like a funeral shroud.


    The air had grown heavy, almost oppressive, as if the night itself had stopped breathing.


    Azrael Noctis'' eyes glowed with an unnatural blue light, piercing through the darkness. There was no fear in his gaze.


    No rage.


    Only a glacial calm... a harbinger of death.


    Lord Gudras maintained his composure, but his once elegant smile had stiffened.


    His group of vampires stood still, waiting for his command.


    He was still thinking about who this man was until something snapped inside of his head.


    The vampire lord had finally remembered where he heard that name.


    Gravil, still trembling, swallowed hard."Impossible¡­" he whispered, with a drop of sweat falling from his face.


    His followers looked at their leader in an almost shocked way.


    He was trembling.


    He was showing a glimpse of fear towards a lower life: A Human.


    Azrael lowered his gaze to the hunter lying on the ground.


    The poor man, still under the effects of vampiric compulsion, could not move, but in his eyes, a desperate glimmer of hope flickered as he moved his eyes towards his savior.


    Gudras was the first to speak, his voice steady, but laced with caution.


    "Azrael Noctis¡­" he repeated, savoring the name."A living legend. Or perhaps¡­ just a legend? My Lord said your name multiple times... he said to be careful towards you... but I thought it was a lie..."


    Azrael took a single step forward.


    The ground beneath him cracked.


    It was just a step.


    A simple shift in weight.


    And yet, all the vampires felt something stir deep within them as they instinctively moved on guards.


    Instinct.


    An ancient, primal terror.


    Gudras clenched his teeth. "Tell me, human. What are you really?"


    Azrael lifted his gaze, and for the first time, a faint smirk appeared on his lips.


    "Didn''t you already say it?" he replied coldly."I''m just a man. A human. A miserable, lower and insignificant waste of air..." Azrael added , while holding his immense sword with only one hand.


    Gudras'' smile widened, almost amused.


    "A man, you say? And yet your presence¡­ is no different from that of the Angel of Death itself." He said, trying to regain his composure.


    Azrael did not respond immediately.


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    He took a rapid look around him and slowly inhaled and exhaled some air.


    "I am not a God. I''m your ruin." Azrael whispered in a low growl while tightening the grip on his sword.


    You could feel a glimpse of disgust when he spoke to the vampires in front of him.


    The hatred he held for those creatures was palpablea dn yet, his face didn''t show any kind of emotion.


    He was cold, almost neutral.


    Even a single movement of air brought a shiver of fear into the immobile hearts of the monsters in front of him.


    Gudras then flicked his fingers in panic.


    One of his men dashed forward, moving faster than lightning.


    A vampire with a slender body and sharp eyes, wielding a long, thin dagger made of blood magic.


    An assassin.


    And he also was a very skilled one.


    Nobody noticed his movements, nobody could.


    Not a single sound, not a single move of air.


    Perfect precision, like someone who was used to do these kind of things.


    He moved with supernatural speed, a silver flash in the darkness.


    In the blink of an eye¡ªhe was already behind Azrael.


    A hiss. A flash.


    "Die, you insolent human-" The monster said


    The blood dagger sank straight into the back of his neck.


    Silence...


    Silence...


    The vampire was smiling...


    He won...? No... not at all...


    The assassin''s eyes suddenly widened as he couldn''t remove the dagger.


    His dagger, embedded in Azrael''s flesh, had not pierced anything.


    Not even a single drop of blood came out from his neck.


    "W-What is this...?!?"  The vampire thought.


    Azrael had not moved an inch.


    Then, slowly, he turned his head.


    His glowing blue eyes flared like fire in the darkness.


    A demonic smile appeared on his face.


    "I told you... I''m a human... with no magic... And your magic has no effects on real monsters..." He whispered, with a malicious voice.


    The assassin tried to pull out the blade again, but something held it in place.


    His arm¡­ trembled.


    His breath quickened.


    He could not move.


    Azrael calmly raised his hand and grasped the vampire''s wrist with an immense speed.


    Not even the skilled assassin could react to his power.


    Azrael looked into the vampire''s eyes for some instants , staring deep into his rotten soul.


    His crimson eyes met the glowing blue flame of Azrael.


    And in that moment...


    ...A crack.


    Then, a sickening snap¡ªlike bones shattering.


    The assassin screamed in agony as his arm was crushed like glass.


    "WHY AM I FEELING PAIN?!?!?" That was the only thought racing through the vampire¡¯s mind.


    Yes, because those creatures couldn''t feel pain.


    Only holy weapons could harm them... but Azrael was different.


    Without even looking at him, Azrael lifted him with one hand and hurled him into a tree.


    The impact echoed through the forest.


    The vampire''s body slammed against the trunk and collapsed onto the ground, motionless.


    Silence.


    Gudras'' smile vanished.


    His men¡­ hesitated.


    Azrael lowered his gaze to his hand, now smeared with rotten blood.


    "If you are truly the leader of this pack¡­" he muttered, shaking the blood off his fingers, "you should have already known."


    He lifted his eyes and locked onto Gudras with a piercing stare.


    "A hunter does not get caught off guard by dogs."


    Gudras bared his fangs. "You¡­!"


    There was no time for more words.


    Azrael moved with a dash at an immense speed towards the vampire laying down on the ground.


    The air exploded.


    The ground beneath him shattered.


    The wind roared through the forest.


    The vampires instinctively recoiled, their survival instincts screaming at them to run away and take advantage of their member''s sacrifice.


    Azrael stood in front of the vampire in front of him.


    The monster, who was crawling and screaming for pain, moved his last glaze towards the hunter.


    His vision blurred... most of his bones were broken beyond recovery. The last thing he saw was Azrael¡¯s silhouette against the moonlight


    His hair were swinging along with the air.


    "You... You are... a.. you are born to destroy us... You''re the real monster... Humans have always be-" The vampire couldn''t even finish his sentence.


    Azrael grabbed the vampire and launched him into the air.


    Then, with an immense force, he jumped to reach him.


    And in that moment, the vampire smiled.


    "It''s finally over..." He said, as last words.


    Then, Azrael''s massive black greatsword swung in a single motion.


    A flash of darkness.


    And in an instant¡­ the first vampire was cleaved in two.


    In a short time, his body and blood both fell to the ground, followed by Azrael, who immediately turned his head towards the rest of vampires.


    The other vampires did not even have time to scream.


    They couldn''t move.


    They were... scared... except a vampire woman.


    She had tears in her eyes as she looked at the death of her companion.


    "My love... no..." That''s what she said, but Azrael didn''t care about it...


    Lord Gudras watched the scene with his eyes open wide while the other vampires hid behind him.


    Azrael''s lips then curled into a small , malicious smile as he whispered only a few words.


    "Who''s next...?" He said...

 Death is only a mercy

    The wind howled through the trees, whispering through the blood-soaked ground.


    Azrael stood motionless, his piercing blue eyes scanning the remaining vampires.


    The edge of his massive greatsword still dripped with the remains of his latest kill.


    Drops of rotten blood were falling from his weapon, a reminder of his dominance.


    The fear in their undead hearts was unmistakable.


    Azrael, on the other hand, had a completely neutral expression with a little smirk, like he did nothing special.


    His blue eyes were still glowing along with the night.


    Gudras, usually so composed, clenched his fists.


    His body remained still, but his mind was racing with a million of different thoughts.


    "He''s faster than I expected¡­ stronger than I imagined¡­ and worse¡­ he feels nothing."


    Moreover, the sword he was using had no kind of magic in it.


    For the vampires, it was nothing more than a piece of steel. Not even silver.


    Behind him, the other vampires huddled together.


    A few of them placed themselves in front of Gudras in order to protect him.


    "We''ll protect you, My lord." A female vampire said.


    The woman who had just cried out for her lover had stepped back, her hands trembling.


    She was the only one who had shown emotion.


    Azrael tilted his head slightly, watching them in silence and spoke a few words.


    "Love¡­? How can a disgusting monster like you have the guts of saying such a beautiful word¡­?" He said , with a cold and menacing whisper, before swinging his sword in the air to make it rest on his shoulder.


    In doing so, drop of bloods reached the vampires'' faces.


    Then, he took a step forward.


    The vampires flinched while the vampire who cried took other steps back.


    Gudras gritted his teeth. "Pathetic."


    Azrael''s smirk widened, just slightly.


    He didn''t need to speak to make them understand.


    He was coming for them next.


    The only thing he did was taunting them by doing the classic "come here" gesture with his hand.


    The vampire lord exhaled slowly, keeping his voice level.


    "Enough."


    He knew that he couldn''t act harshly.


    Azrael was prepared to everything, so he had to thing about a perfect strategy in a very short amount of time.


    At first, the other vampires didn''t move.


    They were too stunned, too paralyzed by the presence before them.


    Then, Gudras'' aura shifted.


    He had to do something to raise up their souls.


    So¡­ he decided to attack first by using a glimpse of his power.


    The fear in his followers was suddenly drowned out by something else¡ªa low hum that vibrated through the air, as if the very night itself was responding to him.


    The blood on the ground stirred.


    Azrael narrowed his eyes slightly.


    "So¡­ he was hiding something after all."


    That''s what Azrael thought, moving his gaze towards the man who was still on the ground, but somehow more distant from Gudras.


    He had to save him, and to do so, he took advantage of the casting time of gudras.


    He knew that the spell he was casting would''ve required an amount of time, and saving that man would''ve also meant that he could fight at full of his capacities.


    While Gudras was channeling his magic, Azrael immediately dashed foward with an immense speed.


    The vampires who were protecting their lord immediately raised up their guards to prevent Azrael''s attack.


    "HE''s COMING! PROTECT LORD GUDRAS!" A female vampire shouted.


    The others followed he orders and immediately formed a circle around Gudras.


    But, instead , Azrael dashed straight next to the man and grabbed him.


    "What?!?" One of the vampires shouted.


    After that , Azrael returned to his starting place and launched the man towards a bush behind him.


    Azrael did all that in the blink of an eyes.


    Meanwhile, Gudras lifted one hand, and the blood pooling beneath their feet began to rise.


    Thick tendrils of crimson snaked into the air, curling around the bodies of the fallen vampire, wrapping around his, pulling him up.


    Moreover, some other bodies, almost 10, appeared from the ground.


    They were¡­ dead¡­ but living.


    Azrael watched as the corpses twitched.


    The bones that had been shattered reset.


    Then¡ªthey opened their eyes.


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    The vampire that he killed just before, returned to "life".


    Not as he had been before.


    But as something else.


    Their crimson irises had turned black, as if all light had been drained from them.


    Their mouths opened slightly, and Azrael could hear a low, inhuman growl emerge from their throats.


    Then, he scratched his chin with his hand in an amused way.


    His sword was resting on the ground, while in front of him a lot of monsters were standing up in a menacing way.


    The blood Gudras had manipulated now pulsed through their veins, forcing them back to their feet.


    Azrael exhaled, shaking some of the blood off his blade.


    "Necromancy?" he muttered, unimpressed.


    Gudras chuckled softly, though there was no amusement in his voice.


    "A crude term. But yes, something like that."


    The undead creatures lurched forward.


    Azrael didn''t move. Not yet.


    Gudras smiled. "You may have been able to kill them once¡­ but let''s see how you fare against those who no longer fear death."


    "Is that how you treat your fallen comrades¡­? No wonder they call you monsters¡­"


    Azrael whispered while lowering his head.


    Then, with inhuman speed, the reanimated vampires charged.


    Azrael moved.


    A single step.


    The ground beneath him shattered.


    Then, in a blur of motion, he vanished.


    The first undead vampire swung its claws. It struck only air.


    Before it could process what had happened, Azrael was already behind it.


    His blade whistled through the air.


    One clean cut.


    The creature froze.


    A second later, its head slid from its shoulders.


    The others didn''t stop.


    Azrael''s body twisted as he spun into the next strike, his greatsword carving through the chest of another enemy, severing it in half with effortless precision.


    A third reanimated vampire lunged.


    Azrael ducked low, sidestepping its attack before driving his elbow into its ribcage with bone-crushing force.


    It collapsed inward, its body bending unnaturally as it flew back, hitting the ground with a wet thud.


    Gudras did not flinch.


    "Fascinating." He whispered , while "admiring" that human in action.


    Azrael landed in a crouch, his fingers briefly brushing against the bloodied dirt before he straightened, completely unscathed.


    He flicked his sword, sending bits of flesh and bone flying.


    "Not enough?" he asked coldly.


    Gudras finally smiled, but this time¡ªit was not forced.


    "Not at all."


    The remaining undead vampires did not hesitate.


    One after another, they fell upon Azrael.


    He met them head-on.


    Blades clashed. Fangs snapped. Blood sprayed into the night air.


    Azrael was a storm of movement, his greatsword cleaving through bodies as though they were nothing but mist.


    A vampire tried to flank him¡ªhe twisted and crushed its skull with a single punch.


    Another went for his back¡ªhe reversed his grip and drove the sword through its throat.


    Limbs flew. Bones shattered. The battlefield became a slaughterhouse.


    Gudras watched the carnage unfold, expression unreadable but somehow "fascinated".


    Then, he spoke.


    "Step aside and leave this to me, my children." He said, while making his way trough.


    The vampires hesitated before following his orders.


    Then¡­ Gudras finally moved.


    Azrael had just driven his sword through the chest of another enemy when, out of the corner of his eye¡ª


    Gudras was already behind him.


    A whisper.


    "Found you."


    Azrael''s instincts screamed.


    He twisted just in time.


    A black dagger sliced through the air¡ªaiming straight for his heart.


    Azrael barely dodged, the blade grazing his side.


    His blood hit the dirt.


    For the first time since the battle started, he bled.


    Gudras took a step back, flipping the dagger between his fingers.


    "Interesting," he mused, watching the red stain spread across Azrael''s side. "So you really can bleed."


    Azrael touched the wound lightly, inspecting his blood on his fingertips.


    His eyes flicked up to Gudras.


    And then¡ªhe smiled.


    "Was that your best shot?"


    Gudras'' smile faded.


    Azrael charged.


    The ground cracked beneath him as he lunged toward the vampire lord.


    Gudras braced himself.


    Then¡ª


    The battle truly began.

 The Angel of death walks again

    Azrael lunged forward, his greatsword slicing through the air like a black comet.


    One of the remaining vampires, a young noble with sharp golden eyes, reacted on instinct.


    Without hesitation, he stepped between Gudras and the charging human, raising his blade.


    "Lord Gudras, step ba¡ª!" He tried to say, raising a blood barrier. But¡­


    ¡­He never finished his sentence.


    Azrael didn''t slow down.


    Instead, he launched a deadly glare to the monster in front of him.


    It was just an instant.


    His greatsword met flesh.


    For a brief second, time itself seemed to freeze.


    Then¡­ a sickening, wet sound filled the atmosphere.


    In the blink of an eye, the vampire''s body split apart from shoulder to hip, cleaved in two effortlessly.


    Azrael didn''t aim to the head.


    He went directly trough his body.


    A perfect , single hit.


    So strong to pierce a magic vampiric barrier.


    Blood sprayed into the cold night air, his eyes still frozen in shock.


    But , at least , lord Gudras was safe¡­ for now.


    The corpse hadn''t even hit the ground yet when Azrael let out a sharp, almost irritated whisper.


    "STAY OUT OF THIS!!" He whispered angrily, while gritting his teeth.


    It seemed like Azrael wanted to end this as fast as he could, like he had to do something.


    The aura from his voice boomed across the battlefield, filled with raw authority.


    The sheer force of it sent chills through the remaining vampires.


    It wasn''t a request.


    It was a command.


    The two halves of the vampire''s body finally collapsed to the dirt as Azrael twisted his body, pivoting into a defensive stance.


    His instincts screamed.


    He barely had time to react.


    Gudras was already in front of him.


    A pale hand, claws extended, lunged for his throat, taking advantage of his dead pawn to hit the hunter.


    Azrael barely dodged again, tilting his head back at the last possible second.


    He dashed back to his starting place, with the greatsword in his right hand.


    Azrael touched his neck, feeling the scratch that landed on him.


    "That was¡­ close." He thought.


    He then looked Gudras again in order to analyze him.


    "Mmmh¡­ this monster is¡­ strong¡­" Azrael thought.


    Meanwhile, his neutral expression faded, replaced by a more serious one.


    Azrael wanted to end the fight.


    Gudras, on the other hand, kept scanning his enemy.


    "So¡­ close¡­" Gudras said, while looking his at him with cold-calculating eyes.


    The vampire lord''s fingers brushed against his skin¡­ just barely missing.


    If that grip had landed, his windpipe would have been crushed instantly.


    Azrael was still a few meters distant, his boots grinding against the dirt as he halted his momentum.


    For a brief moment, the two warriors locked eyes.


    A single glance spoke more than a thousand words.


    Azrael wanted to kill him.


    Gudras¡­ wanted to test him, despite his unexplainable fears in his rotten heart.


    The vampire lord slowly pulled his hand back, inspecting it.


    His fingers were stained with blood.


    Azrael''s blood.


    The vampire lord stared at it for a moment, then lifted it to his lips.


    He let his tongue flick over the crimson droplets.


    Then¡ªhis pupils dilated.


    A sharp, animalistic gasp escaped his lips.


    His eyes widened in shock.


    "This taste¡­" Gudras said.


    A slow shudder ran down his spine.


    His pawns looked at him, worried.


    "My lord!! Is everything alright?" One of them asked, but he was ignored.


    He remained silent, while his body was slightly trembling.


    Gudras had lived for centuries.


    He had tasted the blood of warriors, kings, sorcerers, and even holy men.


    But this¡­


    This was different.


    This was pure.


    This was perfection.


    His breathing grew erratic.


    His fingers twitched slightly as his entire body tensed with unnatural energy.


    A low, guttural growl rumbled from his throat.


    Azrael narrowed his eyes, adjusting his grip on his sword.


    "I knew it¡­ he''s the one I was searching¡­" Azrael thought, while looking at him and preparing himself to any kind of attack.


    He knew that he was about to act.


    Gudras took a shaky breath. Then another.


    Then¡ªhe laughed.


    At first, it was soft. Then, louder.


    Then, it became a manic, monstrous cackle.


    "Hahaha¡­" the Lord laughed.


    Azrael tightened the grip on his sword.


    "AHAHAHAHA!!" He laughed more loudly and his voice¡­ became different.


    Heavier, Deeper, a monstrous out¡­


    ¡­ a monster was awakening¡­


    ¡­his noble composure shattered as his muscles bulged unnaturally, veins thickening beneath his pale skin.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    His elegant, pristine white coat ripped apart as his body expanded, bones snapping and reshaping.


    His fingers elongated into massive talons, his jaw unhinged as fangs doubled in length.


    His once refined features twisted into something monstrous.


    Gudras was no longer a noble.


    He became a beast.


    Or, to be specific, he showed his true self.


    Vampires around him became more scared.


    Other than Azrael, they also had to fear their lord.


    Gudras'' red eyes, once filled with sharp intelligence, burned with nothing but hunger.


    "H-His Majesty¡­" one of the remaining vampires whispered in horror, watching their once-composed leader transform into a demon.


    Gudras lifted his massive, clawed hand and pointed at them without even turning his head.


    "STAY AWAY FROM THIS BATTLE." His voice was distorted, deeper, almost inhuman.


    Gudras spoke.


    His orders were absolute.


    The vampires stiffened.


    "LEAVE. NOW. OTHERWISE YOU''LL PERISH. THIS MAN IS MINE." He shouted angrily.


    They hesitated.


    Then, they obeyed.


    One by one, they turned and fled into the shadows, disappearing into the forest.


    "Yes¡­ it''s totally him. Maria''s general¡­ he slaughtered entire villages of innocent humans¡­ just for the sake of nothing¡­" Azrael thought, with a feeling of anger raising deep from his soul.


    Maria. The vampire Queen.


    The true descendant of Ludwig the hero who defeated all the demon kingdom in the name of God.


    His bloodline ended with a curse.


    And so¡­ Maria was born.


    A vampire, the original vampire.


    The beginning of everything.


    Azrael was born for the sole purpose of killing her.


    Only a human can defeat a vampire.


    Azrael tightened the grip on his sword and raised his guard.


    He closed his eyes and started thinking.


    Only two warriors remained on the battlefield.


    Azrael Noctis.


    Lord Gudras, Maria''s necromancer.


    A monster against another monster.


    Who''s the good one? Well¡­ it depends on the point of view.


    Azrael exhaled slowly, shifting his stance.


    His body felt lighter. His breath steadied.


    The world around him slowed.


    He closed his eyes.


    And then¡ªhe began to breathe.


    Deep. Slow.


    Deliberate.


    The wind around him shifted, moving in sync with his inhalation.


    The air grew still.


    The trees stopped rustling.


    Even the faint whispers of distant creatures faded into silence.


    Azrael became one with the nature around him.


    Then¡ªsomething shifted.


    The earth beneath him stirred.


    A single leaf, floating down from a nearby tree, suddenly froze in midair.


    The ground pulsed.


    As if something deep within it had just awoken.


    It seemed like the time had stopped for him.


    Gudras'' primal hunger faltered for just a moment.


    His instincts¡ªhis deepest, oldest instincts¡ªscreamed at him one single word.


    Danger.


    Azrael''s body relaxed completely, his shoulders lowering, his grip on his sword loosening.


    And yet¡ªhis presence only grew stronger.


    Gudras felt it.


    Something was flowing into him.


    Not magic.


    Not ki.


    Something else.


    The energy of the land itself.


    It was as if the earth, the air, and the sky had chosen to obey this man.


    Gudras'' lips curled into a mad grin, saliva dripping from his fangs.


    "HAHAHA¡­ SO YOU''RE FINALLY GETTING SERIOUS, HUMAN? I''M GONNA TASTE AND EAT YOU¡­ YOU''RE GONNA BE AN AMAZING MEAL." Gudras said, with a menacing voice.


    Azrael slowly opened his eyes.


    They no longer looked human.


    Instead of irises, they were now two endless voids of deep, piercing blue.


    He took a rapid look at Gudras, noticing his aspect.


    "At the end, monsters reveal themselves for what they truly are¡­ disgusting abominations only guided by an insatiable hunger¡­ living a life based on their instincts¡­ no matter how much someone can be different¡­ a monster is a monster¡­ a crime against nature and his gifts¡­ that''s why you must eliminate them all, Azrael. You were born for this. God gifted you the strength, don''t disappoint him."


    The hunter remembered the words of his dying father on his deathbed.


    He was born. To kill.


    Also him¡­ was a monster, but a good one.


    After thinking about these words¡­


    ¡­Azrael exhaled.


    Then, he stepped forward.


    The earth trembled beneath his feet.


    Gudras roared.


    Then, the two monsters clashed¡­.

 A hunter against a devil

    The air between them vibrated with tension.


    The vampires of Gudras disapperead in the shadows.


    Azrael''s eyes were focused, breathing slow, energy flowing through his limbs.


    Gudras, now a towering monster of muscle, claw and dark magic, let out a guttural snarl.


    He had revealed its true form.


    In such a short amount of time¡­


    Gudras had always been the calculating type of enemy.


    Always analyzing the enemy, to find its weak spots, always calm, mindful¡­ a perfect strategist.


    But in that moment¡­ something inside of him snapped when he tasted the blood of Azrael.


    It seemed like he found a diamond¡­ or¡­ he immediately understood the danger¡­


    Now he was nothing more than¡­ a monster.


    They kept staring into each other''s eyes¡­


    Then¡ªthey moved.


    Azrael''s greatsword flashed forward in a storm of precise strikes.


    Gudras answered with feral swings, fueled by brute strength and inhuman speed.


    Azrael''s greatsword met Gudras'' monstrous claws in a shockwave of raw power.


    The trees around them bent violently, their roots groaning from the force.


    Dirt exploded into the air.


    The battlefield became a crater of chaos.


    They suddenly found themselves face to face , with only their weapons separating them.


    Azrael saw the eyes of a bloodlust monster, with saliva and blood drooling from its face¡­


    On the other hand, Gudras only saw¡­ a true and pure human. Without any kind of magic.


    "Maria has told me about a special human I should be worried about¡­ I remember that she was even scared to say its name¡­ but I now know that she meant you¡­and I know why I''m feeling strange sensations¡­ again."


    The monster said, before pushing the hunter away.


    But Azrael didn''t hesitate for a single second.


    Instead, he went directly to attack again.


    Azrael moved with inhuman precision, striking in patterns no warrior could predict.


    Every hit was fatal.


    Azrael was literally slashing his sword in a deadly way.


    He wasn''t fighting.


    He was trying to kill his enemy.


    His blade sang through the air, each swing sharp enough to cleave mountains¡ªbut Gudras endured.


    "How can a human be so¡­ strong¡­?" Gudras thought, during his exchanges of hits against Azrael.


    The vampire lord, now a snarling beast with bulging muscle and blackened skin, blocked strike after strike, his own strength seemingly endless.


    Steel clashed with claw.


    Muscle with mastery.


    Azrael''s blade nicked Gudras'' arm¡ª


    Gudras'' fist grazed Azrael''s shoulder¡ª


    A counter, a dodge, a spin¡ª


    Each strike shook the battlefield.


    The trees trembled. Rocks split open.


    Azrael twisted mid-air, delivering a spinning slash¡ª


    Gudras ducked low and responded with a brutal uppercut, sending Azrael flying backward into a broken tree.


    CRACK.


    Azrael landed hard, rolling once before rising.


    A smear of blood marked his cheek.


    He wiped it away, calm but with a small smirk on his face.


    But Gudras was already chanting.


    From his outstretched arms, glyphs formed in the air¡ªtwisting, ancient, red like cursed blood.


    The earth beneath them ruptured.


    And then¡ªthey rose.


    Dozens of reanimated corpses, warriors, vampires, monsters long forgotten.


    Rotten, twisted bodies surged toward Azrael with hollow eyes and broken blades.


    Gudras roared:


    "Let''s see if you can fight me¡­ while drowning in the weight of death itself!"


    Azrael didn''t blink.


    No sign of emotion, until he spoke a few words.


    "Oh¡­ other useless puppets¡­?" Azrael thought, while an electrifying feeling was raising in his body.


    He was starting to enjoy the fight.


    He was having fun.


    So, his smile widened and became more "crazier".


    He then bursted into a malicious and psychopathic laugh.


    Gudras remained stunned, but he didn''t care.


    He only thought: "this guy is crazy."


    "Let''s end this now¡­ shall we?" Azrael said , while crouching like he was charging something.


    Azrael closed his eyes and held his sword, preparing for what it seemed to be a dash.


    Then, he inhaled a lot of air and then exhaled, before opening his eyes.


    A crack in the air was sensed by Gudras when he saw Azrael''s eyes.


    "IT''S TIME TO DIE, MONSTER! HAHAHAHA-" Azrael shouted.


    Gudras immediately felt a shiver down his spine.


    Azrael then dashed forward¡ªinto the horde.


    It seemed like he disappeared into the wind.


    He moved like a ghost.


    One step¡ªthree heads flew.


    One spin¡ªfive bodies fell.


    One upward arc¡ªthe sky turned crimson.


    Blood was everywhere.


    But they kept coming.


    He cut, dodged, weaved¡ª


    But the numbers grew.


    For every one he cut down, Gudras raised two more.


    The air around Azrael became red.


    He kept slashing every single monster that came to him.


    "Your blade is fast," Gudras hissed, advancing through the mist.


    "But my death is endless!"


    Azrael was surrounded¡­ or not.


    One of the undead grabbed his leg¡ªanother clawed at his back.


    Then Gudras appeared behind him, moving with terrifying speed¡ªfangs bared, claw aimed for Azrael''s throat¡ª


    A perfect kill.


    But¡ªhe missed.


    Or rather, he struck an afterimage.


    The Azrael he had attacked shattered like glass.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    "What¡ª?!"


    Another Azrael appeared to his left¡ª


    Another behind him¡ª


    Another in front¡ª


    Five. Ten. Twenty identical Azraels, each standing perfectly still in the fog of the undead.


    Gudras'' eyes widened.


    "An illusion¡­? No¡­ these feel real¡ª"


    "HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!" AZRAEL LAUGHED!


    Each image was breathing.


    Each one radiated the same killing intent.


    Gudras swung wildly, destroying one¡ªthen another¡ª


    But every time he did, two more appeared.


    "Show yourself!" he roared.


    Then¡ªall of them moved.


    Like a tidal wave of shadows.


    Each Azrael slashed from a different direction.


    Gudras tried to block, defend, roar, retaliate¡ª


    Too slow. Too confused¡­ Too human.


    Steel bit flesh. Again. And again.


    Azrael''s true self dropped from above, sword raised.


    "This is the end, Monster."


    "NOT SO FAST, HUNTER!" Gudras shouted, trying to cast some other kind of magic¡­ but he couldn''t.


    Lowering his defense would''ve meant dying.


    He was struck in Azrael''s WIND OF STEEL.


    He couldn''t break free. He could do nothing.


    The vampire looked up, his monstrous form still trying to process the impossible.


    SLASH.


    A blinding arc.


    Azrael''s blade cleaved down¡ªthrough Gudras'' chest.


    All the images vanished at once like fog under sunlight.


    Gudras staggered.


    A long, deep gash ran across his chest from shoulder to hip.


    His claws fell limp.


    In the blink of an eye, both arms and legs separated from Gudras'' body.


    His mouth trembled.


    "So¡­ fast¡­" he muttered, a smile of admiration twisting his lips.


    "So¡­ beautiful¡­"


    Gudras collapsed on the ground, his monstrous body broken, his chest split open from Azrael''s final strike.


    Blood poured from his wounds in rivers, soaking the soil beneath him.


    Azrael stood tall, his blade lowered, his breathing calm.


    The wind moved softly around him, tugging at his tattered black cloak.


    For a long moment, there was nothing. No sound. No movement.


    Then Gudras, still grinning through cracked fangs, gasped out:


    "That technique¡­ it''s¡­ monstrous¡­"


    Azrael didn''t answer at first.


    Instead, he raised his eyes toward the pale moonlight, then looked back at Gudras, cold and quiet.


    His voice was almost detached.


    "I wasn''t fighting seriously." Azrael spoke, with a cold voice.


    He usually slayed vampires in silence.


    But this time, he felt like he had to speak.


    Gudras blinked. His bloody lips trembled.


    "¡­What?"


    Azrael stepped back slightly, as if dusting himself off after a light exercise.


    "This entire time¡­" he continued, "I was only playing around. Testing. I wanted to see how powerful one of Maria''s generals truly was."


    Gudras froze.


    Not from pain¡ª


    but from realization.


    "Y-You weren''t even trying¡­?" Gudras asked in shock.


    He didn''t even use all of his tricks.


    He didn''t have the time.


    Azrael tilted his head, calmly reflecting on it. Then, with a faint sigh:


    "You''re strong. But not enough. I had to be sure¡­"


    Gudras'' monstrous form began to tremble, not with rage¡ªbut with dread.


    He hadn''t been defeated in battle.


    He''d been evaluated.


    Measured.


    And found lacking.


    He let out one final, broken chuckle, coughing blood with every syllable.


    "Ha¡­ haha¡­ Then¡­ she was right to fear you¡­"


    "You truly are¡­ the end of us¡­"


    "Lady¡­ Maria¡­ I''ll always¡­-" he exhaled, his voice broken.


    Azrael turned his back, and Gudras became silent to the ground behind him, lifeless.


    Azrael stood above him, his breathing steady once more.


    The technique had taken much from him...


    But it had ended the battle.


    Azrael then took another look at the dead body in front of him.


    A small wave of anger enveloped his heart , remembering flashbacks from other fights he had.


    Azrael walked close to the body to scan it.


    The wounds were still open.


    His limbs were still on the ground.


    His eyes were dead.


    But¡­ to be sure¡­ he chopped off his head.


    After that, he spit on the vampire lord and then looked at the village in the distance before moving his glaze again on him.


    "He was too weak¡­ he''s certainly not a general¡­" Azrael said to himself, before putting his great sword away, sealing it on his back.


    The mist cleared. The reanimated corpses collapsed. The forest slowly exhaled.


    Azrael still had things to do.


    And he knew that the fight was way too easy for him.


    A general of Maria couldn''t be that weak to him.


    Moreover, there also was a bunch of vampires who had escaped him¡­


    Then , he moved his glaze towards the man he had saved.


    He passed out.


    He was laying unconscious on the ground, next to the bush where he was launched.


    Azrael walked close to him and picked him up.


    "Let''s go¡­ I need some informations¡­" Azrael said, while starting to sprint towards the village¡­


    ¡ª-


    Far away, a pair of ancient eyes opened in a dark castle.


    Maria.


    She turned her gaze toward the sky.


    "He used it again¡­" she whispered.


    "The mirror technique. So he''s grown into it at last."


    She smiled.


    "You''re getting closer, Azrael. But you still can''t reach me."

 Freya Valken...?

    *Before he ran away*


    The scent of blood still lingered in the air.


    Azrael stood motionless for a moment, eyes narrowed, as the wind shifted.


    Beneath the iron tang of Gudras'' corpse, he caught something else¡ªfaint, but real.


    The scent of vampires.


    It wasn''t over.


    Without a word, he turned toward the unconscious hunter lying nearby, still breathing shallowly but clearly injured.


    Azrael knelt, slung the man over his shoulder like a sack, and bolted.


    He moved like a shadow.


    His feet barely touched the ground.


    Trees blurred past.


    Leaves and dust trailed in his wake as the black cloak behind him snapped in the wind.


    Then¡ªhe saw it.


    The small village.


    Wooden palisades surrounded it, smoke curling upward from a central fire.


    The scent of grilled meat, burning pine, and soil saturated the air.


    When Azrael emerged from the trees and stepped into the clearing, the people around the fire turned quickly.


    A mix of alarm and fear passed through the crowd.


    Hands drifted to blades¡ªuntil someone recognized him.


    Only one person in that small crowd did nothing.


    A woman... a very attractive woman.


    "A hunter¡­!"


    "It''s a vampire hunter!" another cried, almost in disbelief. "They listened to us...!"


    In moments, the fear turned to cheers, murmurs of awe.


    Some even clapped.


    Hunters were quite rare to see.


    One arriving bloodstained and alive? That was a blessing from the gods.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Seeing a hunter in those conditions could only mean a single thing: That he emerged victorious.


    Azrael approached the fire, gently lowering the wounded hunter to the ground.


    "He''s alive. Broken bones. Blood loss. Take care of him." He said, with a direct tone of voice.


    An elderly man with a thick white beard stepped forward and nodded firmly. "We will. He''s safe now."


    Azrael gave no thanks.


    He turned , ready to leave¡ª


    ¡ªwhen a soft, smooth voice stopped him.


    "Hunter¡­ come with me." The voice whispered in his ear.


    He turned.


    For some reason, Azreal always lowers his guard when he''s around humans.


    A young woman stood nearby, her golden hair glowing in the firelight, amber eyes calm and deep.


    She wore a simple dress, clean and modest, but there was a presence about her.


    An energy.


    Something beneath the surface.


    Azreal heard the villagers calling her "Aurea". But he didn''t need confirmation.


    This was surely a mask.


    He followed her silently as she led him through a narrow path toward a secluded house near the outskirts of the village.


    The moment the door shut behind them¡ª


    She changed.


    Her blonde hair darkened, flowing like ink.


    Her amber eyes flared to a brilliant violet.


    Her dress morphed into combat gear: black leather laced with holy runes, pouches of blessed powder, gleaming silver daggers.


    Her presence sharpened like a blade.


    Azreal knew that she was... a special person, and for some reason, he felt like she already seen her somewhere.


    "Freya Valken," she said, her voice now firm and commanding. "Elite-class hunter. Second only to the Commander."


    Azrael''s eyes narrowed."Didn''t expect to see you here."


    Freya smirked."I could say the same. I thought the ''Rogue Hunter'' was just a violent loner who killed for sport to mask his killer nature."


    Azrael''s gaze sharpened."And I thought elite hunters preferred to let the rest of us die while they held debates in glass towers."


    Their eyes locked.


    A small moment of pure tension.


    Freya stepped slowly around him, her gaze analyzing him like a weapon , with a glimpse of amusement.


    "I saw your little dance with Gudras. The laughter was unexpected. You''re... entertaining..." She said, while leaning close to him. "... and also... fascinating in some ways..." Freya whispered, while leaning even closer and tracing a small line on his chest with her finger.


    "Why are you here?" Azrael asked, his voice low and wary, while gently pushing her hand away.


    "You''ll find out soon enough," Freya said, tone playful, almost flirtatious."But relax. I didn''t come to kill you. Not yet, anyway." She said, with a teasing tone.


    Azrael didn''t lower his guard, but deep inside, he felt the weight of her presence.


    Freya Valken.


    The Lady of Light.


    Famous for her lethal precision, master of twin daggers and holy bombs.


    Her most feared ability by vampires and demons? Divine Blessing¡ªan invisible barrier that disintegrated any vampire foolish enough to touch her.


    The presence of such a skilled hunter in a small village like this could mean only one single thing : DANGER.


    A sudden knock on the door interrupted them.


    "Excuse me! The village elder invites you both to share a meal by the fire!"


    Freya glanced at Azrael, a mischievous glint in her eye.


    "Well? Shall we eat?" Freya said, transforming back to her "Stealth" form.


    Azrael exhaled slowly.


    "I don''t like dinners." He said, in an annoyed voice.


    "What about... surprises~?" Freya whispered into his ear.


    But Azrael seemed not to care about her "Flirt".


    "Only the kind where the monster dies at the end." He said, with still a cold voice.


    Freya chuckled. "Then I promise this one will be delicious." Freya said, in a flirty tone of voice.


    The two stepped out together, back into the firelight.


    The village had calmed.


    Plates were being passed.


    People smiled.


    But behind every smile, Azrael saw it¡ªsomething wasn''t right.


    And the night was far from over...

 Dinner

    The crackling of the fire danced with the beautiful light of the moon, as the villagers gathered around long tables made of raw wood.


    The scent of roasted meat, warm bread, and spiced broth mingled with the crisp evening air.


    Freya made her way to the central square, her steps relaxed, the smile still painted on her face.


    She left Azrael behind, just for a moment.


    He, instead, walked away in silence, toward a small stone fountain on a part of the village where no one was.


    He knelt, letting the cold water run between his fingers.


    Azrael''s soul calmed down when he felt the cold feeling of water flowing trough his skin.


    That feeling made him feel human.


    He loved water.


    His hands were still stained with the blood of battle.


    He washed slowly, then splashed water onto his face, closing his eyes for a brief moment, enjoying every single instant.


    It looked like he was washing everything bad from him.


    But still, the bad sensations hadn''t left him.


    The scent of blood was still in the air.


    The aura of vampires.


    The danger wasn''t over.


    But for now¡­ he had to blend in.


    When he returned, the square was packed.


    Men, children, mothers and elders were seated along the wooden tables, ready for the feast.


    And also... Hunters.


    They were dressed with armors, printed with a wolf mark on their chest, sign that they were part of the "Shiroi Okami".


    The White Wolf.


    A very strong clan of hunters.


    There were a few of them.


    The village chief, a short, broad man with eyes full of faith, stood up, raising a cup of wine.


    "Let us pray!" he said solemnly. "Let us pray the gods protect our village, and keep the monsters of the night at bay! And let us give thanks to our saviors¡­ to the Hunters!"


    "Praise the Hunters!" everyone shouted in unison.


    Azrael took a seat in a table that was "distant" from other people, his greatsword still strapped to his back¡ªimmobile, like a shadow.


    He didn''t want to interact with other humans.


    He didn''t join the prayer.


    Didn''t move his lips.


    His gaze was fixed in the distance¡ªdetached.


    Naturally, Freya sat beside him.


    The smile still on her lips, her eyes curious.


    "Not praying?" she whispered, leaning toward him.


    Azrael didn''t answer.


    He crossed his arms.


    "Praying is useless. The gods don''t answer, and vampires don''t wait."


    Freya chuckled softly.


    "Still the same stone-hearted man¡­" She sighed.


    She rested her elbow on the table, placing her chin on the back of her hand as she studied him.


    Freya and Azrael knew each other since a long time, but they didn''t interact a lot outside from their missions together.


    Both of them were part on the team of young talents when they were very young.


    "You know¡­ I think I''m really lucky, Azrael. After all these years, to find myself right here¡ªsitting next to you..." She teased.


    Azrael remained still, his eyes locked on the others, as if watching the entire village through a hunter''s lens.


    Freya watched him closely, then added, more provocatively:


    "What do you say we relax a little after dinner? Just you and me. Maybe next to that fountain¡­ alone." She whispered,


    Azrael immediately understood that she observed him.


    Silence.


    Then, in a cold and measured voice, Azrael replied:


    "A skilled hunter like you should stay alert every second. The night isn''t over."


    Freya raised her brows, still smiling.


    "Your paranoia¡­ is oddly charming." She said with a flirty tone.


    She placed a hand gently on the table near her plate.


    "But don''t worry. The village is protected by a magic barrier. No vampire can cross it without us knowing."


    Azrael lowered his gaze for a moment, then slowly looked up at her.


    "No barrier could resist against a general of Maria, you know... and I have a strange feeling about the Gudras I fought... He didn''t seem... too strong." Azrael said, with an almost worried tone of voice.


    "Oh come on... Azrael. I saw everything. He didn''t even have the time of react. And his magic aura was enormous... I saw it with my spirit eye... Come on... just relax now." Freya said, with a soft tone of voice.


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    Azrael, however, became more serious.


    "The vampires who followed Gudras¡­ they''re not dead.


    They''re still out there.


    And they probably know we''re here." He said.


    For the first time, Freya didn''t answer right away.


    Then, she nodded with a sigh.


    "Then I''ll stay awake tonight. But only because you asked." Freya said.


    "But please, just relax a bit for now, okay?~" She added, with a smile.


    She knew that if Azrael said something like this, it would''ve probably meant that the threat was real.


    Azrael didn''t reply. His eyes returned to the flames of the great fire in the center of the village.


    The village chief raised his voice again:


    "Now, hunters¡ªeat! Drink! Tonight, thanks to you, we live! Praise the Hunters!"


    "Praise!" the people shouted again.


    Cutlery clattered, wine flowed, laughter filled the air.


    The White Wolf hunters were clearly enjoying their time.


    Two of them were youngsters, probably around 18 years old.


    Other two were adults, and more expert.


    And another one was a woman.


    A mage, to be specific, and a very powerful one.


    She had a three star tattoo on her left shoulder.


    That mark was an undeniable sign of a high grade.


    They were having fun with everyone.


    Laughing, drinking... normal things.


    But Azrael¡­ did not laugh.


    And deep within his eyes, there was the omen of something yet to come.


    The dinner had already begun.


    Azrael kept staring at the plate in front of him with a blank expression.


    Stew. Warm bread. Potatoes cooked in red wine.


    The scent was inviting¡ªalmost¡­ nostalgic.


    But he didn''t move.


    Beside him, Freya¡ªstill disguised as "Aurea"¡ªate calmly, savoring each bite with elegance, as if she truly were just a simple village woman.


    "Not hungry?" she asked, her voice almost innocent.


    Azrael didn''t respond right away. He eyed the food as if it were a trap.


    "This village is peaceful," she added softly. "I''ve been here over a week. Honest people. Scared, but kind. No signs of corruption or¡­ dark presence. I swear it." Freya said, trying to calm down Azrael.


    She met his eyes.


    "You can trust it. Just for tonight." She said, while gently rubbing his hand.


    Azrael remained silent for another few seconds and didn''t react at her touch, but it didn''t feel uncomfortable.


    Then, slowly, he reached for the spoon with a sigh.


    One bite.


    The taste was strange.


    But good.


    Almost¡­ too good.


    The second bite followed immediately.


    His senses flared. With every swallow, he felt something stir in his stomach. It wasn''t poison.


    It wasn''t magic.


    It was¡­ emotion.


    He had forgotten this taste.


    This warmth.


    That quiet serenity around the table.


    The laughter of the people.


    Children running.


    Plates emptying.


    And then he realized something.


    It had been too long.


    Far too long since the last time he lived a moment like this.


    Freya, watching him gently, noticed the way his face seemed to soften¡ªjust a little.


    "Not bad, right?"


    Azrael nodded faintly.


    "No." He said.


    The real dances began soon after. A tall fire crackled in the center of the square, while a simple folk melody flowed from the wooden harp of an old man seated by the flames.


    Men and women started dancing, hand in hand, spinning and laughing.


    Freya turned to Azrael, reaching out her hand.


    "Come."


    Azrael looked at her like she had asked him to walk on water.


    "I don''t dance."


    "Exactly. Time you learned."


    She took his hand. He didn''t stop her.


    In the middle of the dance, Azrael moved awkwardly. His boots were too heavy for the light steps of a countryside rhythm. But Freya guided him with grace¡ªsometimes laughing, sometimes leaning close to whisper in his ear.


    And for a moment¡ªjust a moment¡ªAzrael smiled.


    Or came very close to it.


    He almost looked¡­ human.


    But deep down, something began to burn.


    This was all too perfect.


    The laughter. The food. The music. The dancing. The firelight.


    Too many coincidences. Too much calm.


    And Azrael was not born for calm.


    The night carried on with singing, wine, and jests. Some villagers drifted to sleep near the fire, others vanished into their homes one by one.


    Freya, a bit tipsy, kept giggling between sips of wine, leaning against Azrael''s arm with growing boldness.


    "You know¡­ you''re much more handsome when you''re not brooding." She said.


    "Shame you only say that when you drink." Azrael replied.


    "Maybe you should drink more. Who knows¡­ maybe that armor of yours might finally crack... Hehe~" She said, while clinging to him in order to don''t fall.


    Azrael didn''t reply. He stared ahead, allowing her to rest against him like a lazy feather.


    His greatsword, however, was still there¡ªstrapped to his back. Silent. Heavy. Vigilant.


    By the end of the evening, the village chief approached, smiling warmly.


    "Hero¡­ Slayer. We haven''t seen a night like this in years. As thanks, we offer you our finest cabin. There, you can rest in peace."


    Azrael dipped his head slightly.


    "I accept. Thank you."


    Freya followed him shortly after, still humming to herself.


    "Did you hear that? Finest cabin. I hope the bed''s wide enough¡­"


    Azrael didn''t answer. But in the darkness¡­ his eyes had changed.


    The warrior was preparing.


    Because something inside him whispered:


    This was not the end.


    It was the beginning.


    The chief already knew that Azrael had fought something.


    There was something deep down that.