The night starts to arrive with the sun ready to rest. An unsettling awareness settled over Azrael. He couldn't ignore the feeling of being watched, and he sense a couple's presence trailing him from behind.
'Did I get followed?' Azrael's thought reached Jing Qiáng, and the response came quickly, "You are."
With a composed yet vigilant demeanor, Azrael traversed the streets.
He wove through narrow alleyways between looming buildings, attempting to outmaneuver his pursuers. Purposefully avoiding the most direct route to his home.
However, amidst his attempt to maneuver, his path came to an abrupt halt.
At the end of the alley, a group of thugs emerged, blocking his way forward. Their weapons glinted ominously in the fading light—a baseball bat, a wooden plank, a shining knife.
Azrael's instincts prompted him to turn around, only to find other thugs blocking his rear escape.
Within this narrow space, he was ensnared in the middle, trapped between the enemy.
In his surroundings, there's no convenient tool for defense. The only weapon available to him was the steel staff that was stored within his dimensional pouch.
On the opposing side, his enemy numbered eight, split into two groups—four to the front, four to the back.
"Oh, boy, you've messed with the wrong person," said one of the thugs, as they move closer.
Jing Qiang remark, "This will not be easy."
Facing the approaching thugs, Azrael used his skill, 'Eye of The World'.
As the thugs closed in, a distinct calm enveloped Azrael.
Among the thugs, one wore a wide grin that spelled trouble, his voice dripping with arrogance, "You should be a good boy, and take the offer—urgh!"
In a flash, Azrael lunged forward, connecting his knee with the thug's face. The blow instantly rendered the thug unconscious, catching the others completely off-guard.
As Azrael landed beside the thugs, swiftly he retrieved his staff from the pouch, swinging at the next thug's foot with a resounding blow.
"Argh!" a sharp cry of pain echoed as the thug crumbled to the ground. Without pause, Azrael delivered a calculated blow to the thug's head.
Two down, six to go.
The remaining thugs snapped back to reality, rallying with the command, "Surround him!" They quickly closed in on Azrael, cutting off any potential escape routes.
Previously, Azrael had managed a quick scan of their stats, confirming that they were either ordinary individuals or, at most, recently awakened magic users.
Knowing he was outnumbered, Azrael seized the initiative, aiming to reduce their numbers as soon as possible.
The weapons in the thugs' hands trembled—knives, baseball bats, and wooden planks—their grip shaky. Didn't expect Azrael's fierce resistance.
Positioned in the center, Azrael clutching his steel staff in a defensive stance, prepared for their onslaught—swings, thrusts, parries—as he deflected their initial strikes. However, the thugs hesitated to initiate the first decisive attack, wary of his retaliation.
"Get him together!" one of the thugs commanded.
As a unit, they launched an all-out assault on Azrael.
The knife-wielder strike with rapid slices and stabs, forcing Azrael to evade some deadly attacks while absorbing others.
A baseball bat swung menacingly toward Azrael's back, but he adeptly parried the strike. Simultaneously, another thug with a wooden plank hit Azrael's thigh.
Their attacks landed, slashing his arm, waist, and thigh, ripping through his clothing. Azrael's body absorbed their blows, bruises blossomed on his skin as he endured strikes on his back, leg, and arm.
Despite all the pain, he stood on his ground, waiting for the right moment to strike back.
The six thugs continued their relentless assault, each taking turns to engage Azrael. He defended himself, skillfully avoiding their most dangerous blows while still sustaining some hits.
Though they were mere thugs, their coordination was impressive, inflicting constant damage on Azrael. Leaving him little room to counterattack.
Until at last, Azrael discerned a pattern in their attacks, allowing him to dodge with increased precision, resulting in fewer hits landing on him.
The knife-wielder lunged again. This time Azrael swiftly countered, striking the thug's forearm, eliciting a pained grimace.
A baseball bat swung from behind, aiming for Azrael's head. Azrael parried, followed by a sweeping strike to the thug's foot with his staff. The thug stumbled, and in one fluid motion, Azrael delivered a forceful kick to his stomach, sending him crashing against the wall.
Azrael swiftly crouched, spinning his staff above his head, striking all remaining attackers in a synchronized motion, forcing them to retreat.
As Azrael caught his breath, the remaining five thugs struggled to regain their composure as they panted heavily.
Suddenly, from his blind side, a thug wielding a wooden plank struck Azrael's left arm with a brutal blow. In response, Azrael thrust the tip of his staff into the thug's chest, sending them both crashing back.
The impact shattered Azrael's arm bone, sending waves of pain through him. He glanced at the broken plank on the ground, sensing a faint aura of mana leaking from it.
Gritting his teeth, Azrael shook off the pain, and charged at the remaining four thugs with unwavering determination, denying them a chance to regroup.
Blows were exchanged, fortunes shifted, and the tides turned repeatedly as both sides fought with escalating desperation. Even with his left arm broken, Azrael's relentless drive remained unbroken.
The thugs struggled to match Azrael's tenacity, and fatigue weighed heavily on their shoulders.
Inevitably, Azrael began to gain the upper hand with increasing certainty, he deftly disabled each opponent, systematically breaking their bones until they lay unconscious.
Emerging victorious from the brutal confrontation, Azrael breathed heavily, he held his left arm gently with caution due to the fracture. While the thugs lay sprawled and unconscious on the ground.
Returning his staff to the dimensional pouch, Azrael's focus shifted as Jing Qiáng's words resonated, "There's still another one."
Before Azrael could react, a chilling voice cut through the air, "Where you think you're going, little rat?"
**********
At the end of the alley stood a man, a figure of imposing stature.
His posture exuded arrogance. Dressed in a long gray coat that cascaded to his knees, the man's bare chest showcased well-defined muscles. Metal gloves with menacing spikes on both of his hands.
His gaze looked down on Azrael, annoyance shown across his face, clearly irritated by this trivial matter.
"Where you think you're going, little rat?"
— Eye of The World
------------------------------------
André Dubois
Race: Human – Class: Mystic Brawler
Title: B-rank Magicia
Potentials: None
Health Point (HP): 3700/3700 (+400)
Mana Point (MP): 2730/2730 (+230)
Stats:
Strength: 37 | Agility: 30 | Vitality: 33 | Intelligence: 25
Skill: 15…
------------------------------------
'Fuck,' Azrael's heart raced as he turned around and flee while clutching his fractured left arm. He couldn't take on André, not in his current state.
Their power gap was too big; André was a B-rank Magicia, and fighting him would be nothing short of suicide. For a Magicia above F-rank, their power was already breaking the human limits.
With a surge of mana, André kicks a small stone near his feet aiming at Azrael, striking Azrael left foot and forcing him to his knees.
"Try, imagine the surrounding mana, light as a breeze," Jing Qiáng's voice offered guidance.
Sensing the danger he was in, Azrael followed Jing Qiáng's instructions. he sensed the subtle currents of mana around him.
"Now merge it with your inner mana," Jing Qiáng continued, "then channel it to your foot." Azrael complied, and a transparent whirlwind started forming at his feet.
"Now, run."
Azrael shot out of the alley, weaving through the maze of buildings.
With his speed rivaling that of a C-rank Magicia, he caught André off guard.
"You rat!" André's feet turned a furious red, veins pulsating as they emitted red smoke. In an instant, André vanished from his original spot, chasing after Azrael.
Attempting to escape into the bustling crowd, Azrael found his every path swiftly blocked by André's uncanny movement.
He pressed on, dodging and weaving as he tried to evade André's grasp.
However, his sprint gradually lost momentum as his inner mana dwindled.
Buzz! Buzz! Azrael's phone vibrated relentlessly in his pocket. "Behind you," Jing Qiáng warns. Before Azrael could react, André's shoulder slammed into him.
Bam!
Azrael crashed to the wall, his head absorbing the impact and blood trickling from the wound. His body crumpled to the ground, his bones shattered and broken.
André closed in on the fallen Azrael.
Azrael's phone was discarded on the ground and still buzzing, drawing André's attention to it. Deliberately André crushed the phone beneath his boot.
"How is it?" Theo asked.
"No answer," Luna replied, her worry evident as she perched on the edge of a sofa.
"Try it again."
Luna dialed Azrael's number once more, only to find the call unable to connect. She shook her head, a sense of foreboding gnawing at her. Her hand pressed against her chest as unease settled in.
**********
Beneath the night sky, in the dim alley, André's grip tightened around Azrael's neck, hoisting him into the air, a helpless puppet in his grasp.
"You're quite a nuisance, little rat," André's voice carried a mix of irritation and disdain, his figure barely discernible to Azrael as his senses faded.
Jing Qiáng's figure manifest behind André.
"You should know what's good for you," irritation laced in André's voice as he berated the situation, despising the inconvenience of dealing with him.
"Are you aware of your mistakes?" Jing Qiáng's words echoed clearly in Azrael's head.
Jing Qiáng continued, "You had a solid preemptive plan for her safety, yet you committed a misjudgment. You underestimated your enemy, mishandled the contract impulsively, and failed to mask your emotions properly."
"But above all else," the final resonance of Jing Qiáng's word held weight, "you lacked the strength."
The words hit Azrael like a physical blow, driving home his vulnerability in stark clarity.
Azrael's senses blurred, the world around him fading into obscurity. He struggled to think coherently.
Amid the haze, images of Theo and Luna surfaced in his mind.
From his early years, Azrael had been a lonely child, devoid of companionship. Yet, Luna and Theo had managed to breach through his defenses, ultimately filling the void within his heart.
In his mind's eye, Azrael could see Luna's eyes brimming with tears and hear the quiver in her voice as she learned the news that he was no longer alive.
As for Theo, knowing his personality, he would undoubtedly blaming himself for his inability to help.
And in his mind, Theo's apologies replayed in a relentless loop, each time he said, "Sorry, I'm truly sorry," echoing in his ears.
Azrael heart aches at the thought of their grief. It all intensified by the crushing realization that he'd never have the chance to bid them a final farewell.
Honestly, he didn't want to leave them.
But life had never been fair. He was frail and powerless, and his weakness had become a harsh reality. He needed to accept his situation.
'Hope you two have long-lasting happiness.' Azrael closed his eyes, his heart attempting to come to terms with the situation.
–
–
–
Yet, amid his resignation, his heart roars in protest. He doesn't want to part with them. No matter how hard he tries to accept it, he can't!
If God refused to grant him power because of his trash talent, he would turn to the depths of darkness, selling his soul to the devil. He'd willingly become a slave for the rest of his life if it meant gaining the power to reunite with them once more.
'Give me a chance, a single chance!' Azrael's heart roared in silent desperation.
Azrael's lips parted, the words barely audible, "I... ac... accept."
"It's too late, you fool," André mocked with a sneer.
Hearing Azrael's response, a smile crept across Jing Qiáng's face. "Initiate the transfer."
A surge of warmth enveloped Azrael, a fragment of relief and renewed vitality coursing through his broken form. Energy flowed, healing and revitalizing, sharpening his senses once again.
"Sense the raw, pulsating energy within your body, try channel it into your right hand." Jing Qiáng instructed.
Gaining his senses, Azrael followed suit, compelled by an unyielding determination.
"I can't wait to do a lot of fun things with that girl. She had a quite nice body," Andre said with a grin and twisted face.
Azrael clenched his teeth, his gaze a scorching glare locked onto André.
"What are you looking at, huh?" André taunted, squeezing Azrael's throat tighter. "Do you want to hear what will I do to her?"
Dark energy in Azrael's right hand surged, fueled by the hatred within him, increasing its intensity.
"Release it now," Jing Qiáng commanded. Azrael threw the dark energy directly at André's face.
"Arghh!" André's agonized scream pierced the air as the malevolent flames scorched his face. He desperately clawed at his burning skin, the pain unrelenting.
"Run," Jing Qiáng said.
Azrael fled, while André seethed, aura radiating fury.
"I'll kill you, bastard!" André's voice thundered, as he release a maelstrom mana aura full of murderous intent, while the dark flame still eating up his face.
Azrael stumbled from the force of André's aura but pushed on, his fractured arm throbbing as he held it close.
Intense heat radiated within him as he fled. Azrael ran without looking back. Every step was causing agony to pulse through his body. His legs quivering, but he refused to stop.
His vision blurred, shadows and spotlight-like flashes dancing on the edges of his perception. The world around him dissolved into a chaotic whirlwind of bustling noises.
A shadowy figure drew near from the corner of his eye.
But before he could react, black filled the edges of his vision. Simultaneously, his inner energy was depleted.
Azrael collapsed to the ground.
Moments later, André arrived at a bustling marketplace, with his face marked by burn scars.