"Someone in class 1A has betrayed us," mutters Arthur. "But who?" Alora squirms within his arms and he smiles, "Well, I guess that matter can wait until I speak to Azrael." He looks at Rasui's corpse and his expression turns grim. 'The Sleeper' Rasui is dead. And in her moment of weakness, that person took control over Alora's mind. He clenches his hands, "To take advantage of someone like that... I won't forgive you."
"Ar...thur..." Arthur looks down at Alora, thinking she woke up but realises she is still fast asleep. "Arthur..." she repeats.
Arthur's face turns red, "Is she dreaming... about me?" He smiles, "The person controlling Alora may have escaped but Alora is safe—that's all that matters." I'll have to explain to Azrael that my abilities were discovered when we meet up later.
—Chasrol City, Northern Entrance
Azrael reinforces the muscles in his legs, heart and lungs using nether energy, enhancing their strength. This enhancement method allows him to run at superhuman speeds as long as he keeps burning through his life energy. After passing through the northern entrance, with Marchioness Atalante following close behind, he disperses his mana in waves. These waves act as a sixth sense, separate from the physical body but connected to the spiritual body. When expanded, the waves touch physical objects and relay their magical makeup to the originator of the energy pulses. This method of echolocation is an advanced skill called Detect.
With his current nether energy supply, Azrael can spread his life energy across twenty metres diametrically. At this moment, Azrael receives the makeup of every little thing around him—from the air blowing gently across his face, to every grain of sand on the ground below. His mind sorts through each minute detail, categorising every magical makeup he receives into differing sections in mere seconds. This informational influx is too much for the human mind to bear, and experts in the field of magic would reinforce their brains with mana to withstand this influx; however, Azrael's abnormally fast natural healing factor and his prior understanding of the magical makeup of every living and non-living body in the observable and unobservable universe protects him from this detriment.
Marchioness Atalante, who also uses Detect but at a much greater scale, says, "Lord Azrael, I found three life forms in a cabin east of here. And—"
"One life form running in the opposite direction," he interjects. "I felt it too. The three presences in the cabin are Alora, Arthur and someone I can't recognise. As for the fourth life form..." He goes silent and says, "They're an enemy."
With these words Marchioness Atalante turns east and heads towards the cabin. I want to ascertain the safety of Arthur and find out whether Alora has betrayed us or not. But I have a feeling that is of secondary importance right now. He runs west in the direction of the unknown escapee and reaches them in due time.
A woman dressed lightly in linen ninja wear runs at incredible speeds through the thick forest. Hmm? She stops after noticing a presence running towards her from a different direction than where she came from. What's with this freaky presence? she thinks as she runs away faster than before. She looks behind her as she runs and the presence closes in on her. No way! How fast is this person? Agitated she exhausts her mana to escape Azrael but considering the mana she spent on controlling Alora and running away, she runs out of mana faster than Azrael.
As she breathes heavily, she hides behind a massive tree and curses her lack of mana when she needs it the most. A chill runs down her spine and tears pool in her eyes. This woman is a professional assassin. In all her years of killing for money, she has never encountered a situation where she is the hunted and not the hunter. Her inexperience in this event induces panic and her mind instantly sifts through various scenarios to escape safely but as Azrael closes the distance between the two of them, her instincts scream one conclusion—"I'm dead."
Coming to terms with this conclusion, she sits behind the massive tree, calming herself. Azrael stops running when he comes to the tree. "Why are you hiding?" he asks, staring at the tree she hides behind.
Realising her choice of hiding has failed her, she laughs. "Why? I'm an assassin, hiding is in my DNA."
"I see."
A brief moment of silence ensues. Azrael does not step forward and she does not show signs of standing up to escape—It's pointless, she thinks. I've been in this business long enough to know that in this situation, I am utterly powerless.
"What's your name?" he asks.
"My... name?" she responds, surprised. A smirk crosses her face as she notices a chance for escape opening itself. "I don't have a name. We're not allowed to have those."
"We?"
"Assassins. We discard our names because we don't need them."
"I see. Then what do I call you?"
"Me? Well, I go by many names—Bastard, murderer, heartless, bitch... and so on and so forth. You can call me what you like."
"Assassin," he responds. "I will call you Assassin."
"I've been called that before," she sighs. "It's not a very original name."
"Do you want originality?"
"Do I want originality? In a name? Sure, why not?"
"How about... Apostle?"
"Apostle?"
"Yes. It means 'one who is sent off'. For you, this name is quite fitting."
"Apostle..." she says, forgetting about the opening she sought. "Apostle," she repeats, "has a nice ring to it." She smiles brightly, "I like it, thank—"
Azrael whispers a chant and says, "Sever." The air whirls ominously around Azrael and compresses into a thin blade that fires off in a crescent moon, slicing through the massive tree with ease. The blade does not stop at just the tree. It cuts through the surrounding trees, sending every one of them tumbling down. Needless to say, the air blade cuts through Apostle, mercilessly decapitating her and ending her before she could realise it.
"Apostle," says Azrael, "means 'the one who is sent off'. It is a fitting name for an assassin sent off into the afterlife." He closes his eyes and offers her a moment of silence. "May your soul enter the great cycle of rebirth, Apostle."