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Year: 2043, Month: October, Day: 9
Demonic Realm
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Waking from his slumber before the new day calls upon him, Azathoth opens his eyes and sees only a faint trace of light as the sun has not risen yet. Hearing the soft sound of the breeze, and sees the city shrouded in darkness. The sun will not rise for several hours yet; the morning seems to have just begun. He stands up slowly and stretches, somewhat easing yesterday's soreness from the training with his mentor while yawning.
"ahh-hhaaa"
His dark room with open curtains provides no view of the sunrise at this time of night. As he walks over to it, he looks around and sees nothing but blackness all around him, save a tiny bit of moonlight seeping through.
{Another day. Another hunt.}
Briefly looking over the city before turning his back. He puts on basic apparel: black rags for pants beneath a tattered black cloak with torn black arm bracers. Azathoth would have exhibited an odd but harmonious look as his red eyes make him stand out like the reaper in the night, but the bruises and injuries from yesterday have not all healed. Especially the injuries on his visible torso.
Though nonetheless, he is ready to hunt.
{Time to go.}
Itching closer to the window, silence fills the air, except for the gentle sound of the breeze. It soothes his mind, preparing him to take the leap of faith.
{This is gonna hurt.}
He can feel his mind sharpening just before he vaults the window ledge and lands on the ground, grunting from the impact as yesterday's injuries are felt anew.
"Urgh!"
{Virzod just had to make it worse on me yesterday. I bet he knew that today is my break and made yesterday's training worse to keep me in check.}
Having no choice but to go on for the sake of his survival, Azathoth walks into a side alleyway to avoid prying eyes and heads toward his destination.
The forest is nearby, and he knows this well enough, having travelled many times to this place due to the abundance of creatures—a perfect sector for hunting.
Weaving his way through the alleyways as he approaches the forest border, he keeps low in case of being spotted. His cloak is pulled over his head and tucked behind his shoulders to hide his face. His hood covers his ears, too, as he moves with purposeful strides.
He soon arrives at the forest's edge and begins making his way inside, staying close to the shadows as he enters.
The moon shines bright through the trees, casting a soft glow as he walks through the woods. His footsteps are barely audible on the soft terrain as the moonlight glitters off leaves and branches. The smell of fresh air fills his nostrils, making it hard to focus on anything else other than
Azathoth's eyes search the shadows, searching for any sign of prey. A few meters away, he catches sight of a figure running, its face hidden in the gloom.
{And the hunt begins.}
Cloaking himself in the shadows, Azathoth waits as his prey nears his vicinity as he prepares to ambush it. The prey is coming.
{C'mon, just a little closer.}
The young demon takes in a deep breath as he prepares to pounce. The prey approaches quickly.
{Got you!}
As the figure draws closer, Azathoth springs, lunging towards it as he closes on his target. The prey is targeted!
Leaping forward, Azathoth attempts to strike the neck. Going for a quick and easy kill. Though it seems the night has other plans for the presumed predator.
"Urgh!"
Azathoth instead strikes the shoulder of the monster, and its arm shoots up to grab Azathoth's leg. Instinctually, he kicks backwards to throw it off, and it falls to the ground with a crash, separating the two.
{If only my injuries weren't so bad!}
"Gnfph!"
The young demon grunts as the pain in his ribs flare up.
{I could have ended this without any problems!}
"Urgh! Hmph! Urgh!"
The young demon attempts to get up, but the creature makes haste and kicks him again. Azathoth stumbles and falls to the ground.
"Urgh!"
The prey is on top of him, and Azathoth struggles to fight off the attack. Its fist strikes the side of his face, and he recoils.
{Shit!}
Azathoth attempts to punch back, but it's weak, and the prey easily dodges the swing, striking him in the cheek.
{Just lie down and die for me!}
The two continue their battle. Azathoth is unable to land a solid hit, and the prey able to do so with ease.
Azathoth is about to take a swing when the creature strikes him in the shoulder. The blow sends him flying, landing hard on his back.
"Grr!"
He rolls across the dry land as he tries to get up, but the creature continues to pound the ground with its fists.
{This stupid fucking thing wants to beat me? I need a plan.}
"Urgh!"
The monster continues to strike him while Azathoth lies helpless.
The moonlight fades out as Azathoth gets battered by the prey. This is going nowhere fast. Maybe he should just take the easy road and run.
"Urgh!"
But he won't. No matter what.
Azathoth notices a sharp stick behind the monster. As well as what he is lying on.
{I can't believe I have to do this.}
Azathoth rolls back unexpectedly and grasps a handful of dry dirt before screaming.
"Take this you ugly bastard!"
Throwing the handful of dry dirt at the monster, it screams in agony as the dirt goes into its eyes.
The monster falls to the ground as Azathoth runs to the sharp stick to use as a weapon while the monster is stunned, but his thoughts are merely wishful thinking.
{What to do?!}
Before the monster regains its vision, Azathoth pulls off a stunt and throws the stick up into the air and waits for the monster as it runs toward him as he knows it has become useless at the moment.
{I may not be a masochist, but it looks like I have no choice.}
Azathoth is taken down by the monster once more as he tries to avoid its battering.
{Any moment now.}
As the stick falls back down, Azathoth catches a glimpse of it and makes a quick decision, hoping to end this fight.
{Here goes nothing!}
Once the stick falls past the monster's head, Azathoth grabs it before stabbing it into his prey's neck. Shocking the monster and himself.
{I actually did it?}
As the monster flails on the ground, Azathoth gets up and approaches it. Grabbing the stick logged in its neck before saying.
"Say goodnight ugly."
Kneeling, Azathoth grabs the stick and wrenches it, cutting the line for the monster.
Taking it out of its neck, Azathoth looks at the monster. It bleeds, the blood flowing down from its neck. He sees the mighty limbs of the monster that could have taken his life. Its gruesome face, which no mother could love, looks like a revenant from a nightmare as its mutated body gets colder with every passing moment.
Yet, Azathoth is alive.
His victory over the prey didn't seem as sweet as he had thought. Not one bit, as his previously injured body had become worse.
{It was harder than expected, but I managed to win, even with yesterday's injuries.}
Azathoth gets up, remembering why he came to the forest and begins taking apart the monster to consume it.
***
Rising from the ground, the smell of the monster's blood lingers as Azathoth rises to his feet. Grunting in agony from the battle.
His clothes are stained red from the monster's blood. There are scratches all over his skin, dark bruises, and some bleeding. But they're nothing compared to yesterday.
{Nothing is broken. That's good.}
The young demon wipes his bloody hands against his dirty clothes, trying to clean up. Once finished, he inverts his cloak as the inside is cleaner than the outside and glances around, noticing the surrounding area empty.
Looking beyond the horizon, the sun is beginning to rise, and he watches it slowly grow brighter as it spreads across the sky.
The trees rustle in the breeze, the sounds of creatures filling the silence.
Azathoth struggles as he walks away from the battlefield, moving towards a small creek near the battle to clean himself up before heading back.
Once at the creek, he removes his clothes and hangs them on a low branch as he takes a quick bath, scrubbing the dirt away. He rinses off the blood and other bodily fluids left behind and takes a quick drink of water to help rehydrate himself after the fight.
The water is cool and refreshing. He stands under the stream, letting the water flow over him as he stares at the sky. Washing away the last traces of the monster's blood from his body.
He feels better, though there are still a few injuries and bruises that need tending to.
He looks down at his wounds, noting that they've begun healing, albeit slowly, as the bruises start to disappear. He looks up, watching the sun climb the sky as morning had already begun. As he watches, his eyes start to feel heavy, and it takes a moment for him to realize how tired he actually is.
{I need to get back.}
Taking a moment for the water to dry off before putting on his clothes.
Azathoth then walks back through the woods, passing the clearing as he walks back, leaving the dead carcass of the creature behind as he heads back.
***
Reaching the forest border, Azathoth puts up his hood and slips back into the city.
Although comedic, as his outfit contrasts the city setting, he slips into the alleyways, quietly approaching his dwelling as he tries his best to remain undetected. Trying to be as stealthy as possible.
Several minutes later, he arrives under the window where he jumped out before morning.
Stopping for a moment, Azathoth glances around, seeing if anyone noticed his presence as he steps forward and enters his dwelling through the window above, where he jumped off. Though his injuries hinder him, he manages to make it up without much effort, making it inside and closing the window.
{Finally. Made it.}
Azathoth climbs back onto his bed, lying there as exhaustion takes over. He stares up at the ceiling, taking a breather from everything that happened. The battle with the beast. His victory. The prologue and aftermath.
All of it.
After a while, he falls asleep.
***
A short time passes, and Azathoth awakens.
Looking out the window, he sees the sun has risen above the horizon as the world brightens and a new day begins.
He yawns, carefully stretching as he sits up. Being mindful of injuries that have not been mended from his short rest.
Azathoth gets up and looks out the window at the cityscape. Seeing demons everywhere, the streets are filled with them moving about their daily lives, going about theirs.
Demons carry themselves just like humans. And yet, they are not human. They are their own species as well.
Azathoth sighs, shaking his head.
He stands and walks to his bathroom, wanting to look at himself. Though when he approaches, he remembers that he punched it, which is currently smashed. He grumbles in disappointment as he walks closer, trying to see if he looks any worse than before.
{Let's see, I look just as bad as if I came right from Virzods 'mentoring'}
He sighs again, though when he blinks, he sees the reflection of a human with brown eyes.
{What the!}
Blinking before taking a step back, staring at his face in disbelief.
{What was that?}
Azathoth reaches forward and grabs his face as his features change into a demon's. Nothing changed.
Though a moment after he takes a step back.
A white shock overtakes his vision. His mind flares like a violent storm, feeling like he got drenched by carnivorous acid as he feels his existence melting. He hears a scream erupt in his head before he screams along like a chorus as he collapses.
"AHH!"
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[...Augmenting]
[Target "Lumin Blavatsky"]
[Accelerated Alternative Method: Complete]
[Charged at 100%]
⋈ Alert, Total Status at 100% ⋈
⋈ Initiating ... Activation⋈