Early the next morning, before the first rays of sunlight peeked above the horizon, the selected group prepared themselves for battle after training tirelessly all day.
Azrael walked down the empty hallways of the big mansion, fixing his sword, dressed in all black, and checking his hair in a mirror when he bumped into Vespra, who was also heading to meet with the rest.
"How is the old man?" Azrael inquired, turning to face her, concern etched on his face.
Vespera sighed, adjusting her own equipment. "He's still recovering. Hopefully, he'll get better in a week," she replied. "But, knowing the stubborn old goat, he'll probably be ready on his feet tomorrow, ready to take down an army of a hundred," she added, a small grin on her lips, and Azrael also couldn't help but grin.
The group moved together, keeping a distance between each member, walking silently through a thick and quiet forest, keeping their footsteps as silent as possible.
