Kailan, bundled up against the relentless snow, was trudging with purpose through the thick blanket that covered the dense forest floor. Each of his breaths materialized as misty ghosts, disappearing as quickly as they came. He was on the hunt, but for what, perhaps not even he was sure anymore.
'Can't really see much, but I feel like I'm being watched. Gotta be ready for anything. That dumb serious loyal knight Kelgade told us not to engage, does he mean not to attack him first, or what? This is so fucked!'
Meanwhile, Zabriel, blending with the snowfall, moved with otherworldly grace. His movements were fluid—effortless even—as he darted from tree to tree. The snow seemed to part ways for him, his footing silent against the soft-covered ground. His eyes, sharp as the edge of his scythe, scanned the environment, always aware, always hunting.
Kailan paused, a sense of unease creeping upon him. Something was amiss; the forest was too silent, the usual chatter of wildlife stilled by more than just the storm. It was then he decided, perhaps out of exhaustion or the unnerving quiet, "Yep! I give up. My bad. You're doing too much assassin stuff." He dropped to his knees, the cold seeping through his clothing, numbing his skin. "Go ahead and do whatever. Not in a weird way, of course. I don't roll like that—."
Without a sound, Zabriel erupted from beneath Kailan, the suddenness of his assault matched only by the brutal grace of his attack. His scythe sang a deadly arc through the air, slashing across Kailan's chest. Blood sprayed in a stark contrast against the pristine white of the snow, a scarlet bloom heralding violence.
Kailan was sent sprawling back, the force of Zabriel's strike throwing him like a ragdoll. He hit the ground hard, the back of his head making contact with a solid thump. Groaning, he managed to lift his head, squinting through the blizzard, expecting to lay eyes on Zabriel. But the assassin was gone—vanished as if swallowed by the storm itself.
Panting heavily, Kailan thought, 'I didn't even sense that or anything! And that slash..it was similar to what I saw back then..the cult members' wounds…it was in the same area and direction..could Zabriel be the one who killed that cult member? If he is, he's stronger than I thought.'
Yet, before Kailan could process, a cold touch pressed against the nape of his neck. Zabriel was behind him, silent as death, his fingers cold and calculating. Kailan's heart raced, panic flooding every vein.
Kailan said, "Waitttt! Waittt! Slow down, slow down, let's all calm down here! I'm a friend! Y-yeah!"
'It's no use! He's gonna brutalize me! My perfect humanoid wolf body—!'
Just as fear gripped him tighter, Zabriel twisted around, his cloak billowing dramatically in the icy wind. He faced Kailan, whose eyes were wide with a mix of fear and confusion. Zabriel then extended his hands, the air around them shimmering with a strange, green glow. Slowly, the gash across Kailan's chest began to close, the skin knitting itself together in a dance of miraculous healing.
Kailan, bewildered and still reeling from the sudden violence turned mercy, managed, "Errr…you're not gonna end me?"
'He's healing me?'
The shadows on Zabriel's scythe seemed to writhe with life, a dark essence flowing from the weapon. With a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes, Zabriel simply said, "Thanks."
In disbelief, Kailan shot back, "D-DID YOU JUST TAKE MY POWER?! AND YOU HAVE THE GALL TO SAY THANKS RIGHT AFTER?! WHAT KIND OF SENSE OF HUMOR IS THAT?!'
With a flick of his scythe and a cloak that fluttered like wings, Zabriel replied coolly, "Didn't take. Borrowed." And just like that, he was gone, vanished into the blizzard, leaving Kailan alone with his thoughts and a healed chest, surrounded by the harsh whispers of the wind.
Kailan sat there for a long moment, the snow collecting around him, his mind racing to make sense of the encounter. What game was Zabriel playing? And more importantly, what did he plan to do with 'borrowed' power?
'I'm gonna follow him. He's a badass like me. Definitely gonna try and recruit him to our vagabond group.'
As Zabriel darted away, 'Gained his trust, and his power temporarily. I'll need it. All power I borrow is multiplied in strength by a lot when used by me.'
…
Tazmel, heart aflame and soul brimming with reckless fury, tore through the blistering blizzard with the ferocity of a unleashed storm. His heavy boots sent snow spraying in wild arcs as he moved, relentless and unbowed by the biting wind. Each swing of his massive elemental hammer fell upon the trunks of towering trees, splintering wood and ice alike. "Come on out, Zabriel! I wanna fight! To hell what the knight said!" he roared into the howling wilderness, his voice a ragged thunder against the cloak of winter.
Beside him, silent as the grave, a shadow flickered into being. Zabriel, clad in the dark vestments of an assassin, ran with ghostly grace, his presence a stark contrast to Tazmel's rampaging. His feet barely touched the snow; his breathing was even and controlled, a predator pacing its prey.
Tazmel, caught off guard by the sudden company, gasped, "What the hell?!" Instinct took over. He pivoted, an impressive feat in the thick snow, and swung his elemental hammer with all the force of a falling mountain towards Zabriel.
But Zabriel was no mere brigand to be felled by brute strength. Vanishing at what seemed like the speed of light, he reappeared poised on the head of the swinging hammer, balancing on one finger with the poise of a seasoned acrobat. In a blur, he twisted his body elegantly and delivered a devastating kick straight to Tazmel's face.
The world spun wildly for Tazmel as the force of the kick sent him hurtling through the frigid air, crashing into a large boulder with such impact that the stone exploded into a cloud of ice and debris.
Laying amidst the shards of frost and stone, Tazmel felt a trickle of warm blood seeping from his mouth, his internal organs screaming in protest. Struggling against the sharp pain that wrapped around his ribs like iron bands, he pushed himself up, spitting blood mixed with defiance. "Damn you! We're super strong vagabonds—," he managed, his voice broken but fierce.
But just as Tazmel prepared for another charge, a soft, green glow enveloped him. Zabriel, who had moved as swiftly as the whispers of winter wind, now stood over him, one hand extended, the glow emanating from his palm bathing the wounded vagabond in a gentle light.
"Huh?! Why are you healing the enemy?! I'm your enemy!" Tazmel protested, confusion etching his rugged features even as his body began to mend under the uncanny ministrations of his opponent.
Zabriel, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood, simply patted Tazmel gently on the head, as if comforting a wayward child. All the while, his scythe, strapped across his back, began to hum softly. The weapon came alive, aglow with elemental power, swirling with an aura vibrant with the colors of the earth—emerald, sapphire, ruby, and gold dancing together in a mesmerizing display.
Tazmel gasped, "He…he's using my power?"
Zabriel saw Kailan approaching as well, and said, "You two head back to the cabin. There's three new auras I sensed, strong, powerful. Something or someone else is out there. I'm gonna kill them. Goodbye."
Tazmel yelled, "Wait!"
Without a word, Zabriel stepped back, his healing task completed. The swirling colors around his scythe brightened, casting eerie lights on the snow around them. Then, as abruptly as he had appeared, Zabriel vanished into the storm, leaving behind only the mystery of his actions and the faint echo of elemental magic, lingering like the scent of ozone after a lightning strike.
Tazmel said, "He didn't kill us, he just healed us. I feel great! Better than before!"
Kailan replied, "I have eyes ya know. But it seems like he takes the power from those he heals."
"I have eyes too, Kailan."
"Someone as brutish as you wouldn't have deciphered that. Admit it."
"Silence fool. Did he strike you?"
"Yes. Each strike he did was intended to not kill, he planned to heal us from the start. Maybe to get us to like him? He's too generous for an assassin."
"It kept us alive, we gotta be thankful. He's earned my trust, but that doesn't mean I don't want to duel him."
Zabriel, dashing away, felt overwhelming power in his scythe, saying to himself, "New aura, it's different, powerful. On a different level than Arga's. It's not the one I chased in the sanctuary, no..this is something else. I'll leave Gill to fight that annoying man Kelgade, who's always had it out for me since we were kids, he hated that I was the most accomplished assassin and most loved by the leaders. At times, I was left alone to deal with things by myself to get stronger, so I will leave Gill alone this time."
He kept running and running, but flashbacks and memories of Arshan, Holt, the maids, and Ellie kept popping up in his kind rapidly, their dead bodies tormenting his mind.
'I let them die..only if I hadn't left ... .I'm a failure…a failure who only wants…only wants true happiness. I wanna feel it. If I let someone else in my care die..I won't have it.'
Zabriel stopped, clenching his scythe, and looked in the sky, heading Gill and Kelgade battle still.
Zabriel turned around, darting towards their battle, saying, "I left him the first time to let him experience this…and to kill the others I was sensing…it was a mistake. Just like back then at the castle of Kenshire…I wanted to get rid of the strongest threat…fuck. Gill wasn't born like we were, he grew up weak, where we grew up strong. He's still not prepared for anything heavy, and I took advantage of it."
'I have to stop making mistakes…stop being a fucking screw up…but I have a higher change of winning now, since I have extra power to combat Kelgade's blood arts.'
At Gill and Kelgade's battle, Kelgade had his red sword pressed on Gill's chest, but Gill was holding it with both hands, slowly sinking into the ground, trying not to make the sword stab through him. Gill was bleeding where, where Kelgade was just fine, forces of rapid powerful winds came from their actions, and Kelgade said, "Hmmm. Gross. Someone that's powerless is able to last this long against me?"
Gill said, "I'm not losing today…!"
"Too bad. You're getting on my nerves. I just want Zabriel, I'm not gonna kill him or anything, but killing you should make him come out and confront me. Why did he leave such a welp behind anyway?"
"AGHHHH!" Gill yelled, sitting up as he forced Kelgade back slowly, blood rushing down his face, his clothes tattered. "I told you I'm not losing..!"
Kelgade said, "How the hell…."
"Zabriel didn't leave me…he called me his brother, and I for one, like to be called that. I'm glad I'm in this situation…goes to show how much I've gotten stronger…because if I was the old me 2 months ago, I would've lost the second I saw your stupid face."
"Yet, you'll still lose here. How does that work?!"
"I know I'm not strong enough to beat you yet, but now I know I'm able to get stronger and I'm not cursed.."
"What a weird welp statement. You haven't landed a single hit on me. I've been bashing you and cutting you up, trying NOT to kill you, for the royal family's sake. But I'll get serious if you are."
"Try me…"
"Alright then."
KATHOOM!
Gill was blasted backwards, his feet sliding back on the ground, and he sat up, saying, "Zabriel.."
Zabriel had his powerful scythe locked in with Kelgade's sword, and Kelgade chuckled, "There you are…Zabriel, the immortal hero those fucking Crow leaders called you. I've come to get you."
Zabriel responded, "And I've come to get you."
"Let's dance then, old friend."
As Raiya dashed through the forest, her blindfolded senses leading the way, she found herself entering a section of the blizzard that seemed oddly calm. The harsh winds and biting snow gave way to a serene clearing, a sharp contrast to the chaos that raged beyond it. In the center of this tranquil area, a striking scene unfolded—a field of flowers, each petal shimmering like the finest diamonds under the muted light of the overcast sky.
'Loud battles happening behind me. Should I turn around? It could be Zabriel.'
In the middle of this ethereal garden, a black sword was stabbed into the earth, its dark blade stark against the brilliance of the diamond flowers. Hovering above the sword, in a display of mystical prowess, was a woman framed in a haunting tableau. She had shoulder-length black hair with tips dipped in gold, enhancing her otherworldly appearance. A glowing yellow rune, shaped like a phoenix, was etched on her cheek, mirrored by similar runes that adorned her hand and forearm. Her attire was as simple as it was dark, a black sackcloth outfit that spoke of a Spartan life, and her bare feet were poised inches above the ground.
As Raiya's senses adjusted to this mysterious figure, she noticed something crucial—the same mark on the woman's hand that Gill bore, the mark of the Crow assassins. This revelation
The woman's eyes, dark and piercing, fixed on Raiya with a stern yet distinctly angry demeanor. She spoke in a voice that carried the weight of a commanding, serious undertone: "Dammit. And here I thought Zabriel would come here. That's boring."
"Who..are you? Are you with the Crow? Those assassins…"
"You seem super tense. You know I'm bad news then. Your heart and soul is telling you I'll rip you in half, right? Will you run or fight?"
"Kill." Raiya answered as her body subconsciously shifted into a fighting stance known as the Rose Blossom—a technique as beautiful as it was deadly, designed to strike swiftly and retreat, mimicking the dance of petals in the wind.
"I led Zabriel to the room to look through the memories. Even I, a Fabel cult member, couldn't get through, Agar wouldn't let me through, he must've seen I've become one with the cult, and took part in the Red Flame. Father was gonna use me to try and get through, but it was no use. So here we are, I need Zabriel."
"An assassin…siding with the enemy.."
"I am Zaeya, former assassin of the Crow. And you're in my way, little girl—"
Interrupting,, Raiya's form blurred into motion, her dance of combat shifting seamlessly into an offensive strike. Her hands shaped into claws, aimed with lethal precision at Zaeya's neck—a move designed to incapacitate swiftly, to end the confrontation as quickly as it had begun.
But as Raiya closed the gap, a wretched grin spread across Zaeya's face, a sign that perhaps the fight would not go as Raiya had anticipated. This smile bore the confidence of one who held mastery over death itself, hinting at hidden depths and skills that might yet surpass Raiya's own.