The sun was hidden behind a thick layer of storm clouds, casting a dim, gray light over the forest. Tall, twisted trees lined the path, their gnarled branches stretching out like claws. The air felt heavy, filled with the scent of rain and the quiet murmurs of the forest creatures. Azazel walked beside Shadow, his loyal wolf companion, who moved silently, ears perked and alert.
Azazel glanced down at the mark of Valhalla on his chest, a faint glow radiating from beneath his tattered shirt. The bond he had forged with the Sky Serpent gave him strength, but it also came with a sense of weight—an enormous, suffocating responsibility. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I wonder if I'm truly strong enough," Azazel murmured, more to himself than to Shadow. The wolf's ears flicked, and it turned its silver eyes toward him. Shadow's gaze was steady, unwavering. It was almost as if the wolf was telling him not to doubt himself.
"Thanks, Shadow," Azazel said, offering a small smile. "You always believe in me, don't you?"
Shadow gave a low whuff, as if in agreement. The two continued walking, the only sounds the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. The deeper they went into the forest, the darker it became. Shadows seemed to move along the path, and an uneasy feeling crept up Azazel's spine.
"It's strange, isn't it?" Azazel said, glancing around. "This place feels... different. Almost like the forest itself is watching us."
Shadow growled softly, the fur on its neck bristling. Azazel stopped, hand moving to the hilt of his sword, which now carried a faint glow from the power of the Sky Serpent. He listened carefully, his senses heightened. Then he heard it: the distant sound of shouting and clashing metal.
"Someone's in trouble," Azazel said, his eyes narrowing. "Let's go, Shadow!"
They broke into a run, following the noise until they came upon a clearing. There, a group of travelers was being attacked by bandits. The bandits were rough-looking men, dressed in ragged clothes and wielding rusty weapons. The travelers—an older man, a woman clutching a small child, and a young boy—were desperately trying to defend themselves with wooden staffs and whatever they could find.
"Hand over your valuables!" one of the bandits snarled, brandishing a knife. "Or we'll make you regret ever stepping foot in this forest!"
The woman clutched her child tighter, tears streaming down her face. The boy, though terrified, stepped in front of her, his hands shaking as he held up a small dagger.
"Leave them alone!" Azazel shouted, stepping forward. The bandits turned, their sneers turning into looks of surprise.
"Who are you supposed to be?" the leader of the bandits scoffed. "Some hero come to save the day?"
Azazel drew his sword, the blade glowing with a soft, electric blue light. "I'm someone who won't stand by and let you hurt innocent people," he said firmly. Shadow stood beside him, baring its teeth, a low growl rumbling from its chest.
The bandits hesitated, but the leader barked out a laugh. "You think you can take us on? Get him, boys!"
Three bandits rushed at Azazel, weapons raised. Azazel took a deep breath, feeling the energy of the Sky Serpent flow through him. He sidestepped the first attacker, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Lightning crackled along the blade, and the bandit's weapon shattered, sending him sprawling to the ground.
The second bandit lunged at him, but Shadow was faster. The wolf leaped, sinking its teeth into the man's arm. The bandit screamed, dropping his sword as Shadow pulled him down. The third bandit froze, eyes wide with fear as he watched his comrades fall so quickly.
"Run!" the terrified bandit yelled, turning tail and fleeing into the forest. The others scrambled to follow, leaving their weapons behind.
Azazel lowered his sword, the glow fading. Shadow released the bandit it had pinned, and the man stumbled away, clutching his wounded arm.
The older man and the young boy stared at Azazel, their mouths open in shock. The woman was still clutching her child, but her tears had stopped. Slowly, the boy stepped forward.
"Thank you," he whispered. "You saved us."
Azazel sheathed his sword, feeling a bit embarrassed by the gratitude. "I'm glad you're all safe," he said. "Are any of you hurt?"
The older man shook his head, his voice hoarse. "No, thanks to you. We would have been finished if you hadn't come along."
Azazel knelt down to Shadow, patting the wolf's head. "We were just passing by," he said, looking back at the travelers. "What are you doing out here in the forest? It's dangerous."
The older man sighed. "We're on our way to Simpang, hoping for shelter. But... I don't know if it'll be any better there."
Azazel's brow furrowed. "Why do you say that?"
The man's face grew pale, and he exchanged a worried look with the woman. "They say Simpang is cursed," he whispered. "Strange things have been happening there—people disappearing, crops dying overnight, shadows moving where they shouldn't. We were desperate enough to try our luck, but... maybe it was a mistake."
Azazel frowned, the weight of the man's words settling heavily in his chest. A curse? The thought of another village in danger made his heart ache. He'd seen too much suffering already.
"I'm heading to Simpang as well," Azazel said. "I'll do what I can to help."
The woman finally spoke, her voice quiet but grateful. "Thank you," she said, her eyes filled with hope. "I don't know who you are, but... it feels like a blessing that we met you."
Azazel gave them a reassuring nod. "Stay safe," he said, and then he turned to Shadow. "Let's keep moving."
As they left the clearing, the whispers of the forest seemed louder, almost as if the woods were whispering secrets to one another. Azazel couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into something much bigger than he realized.
---
The path to Simpang grew more treacherous, roots and brambles trying to trip them at every step. Azazel wiped sweat from his forehead, the heavy feeling of impending danger pressing on him. Shadow stayed close, eyes darting at every rustle of the underbrush.
"Shadow," Azazel said, breaking the silence. "Do you think... I mean, with the Sky Serpent's power, do you think we can really make a difference?"
Shadow tilted its head, and for a moment, Azazel felt silly for talking to a wolf. But the wolf's calm, steady gaze made his heart feel lighter.
"Yeah, I guess you're right," Azazel murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. "We have to keep trying, don't we?"
Suddenly, a chilling wind swept through the forest, carrying with it a whisper that sent shivers down Azazel's spine. He stopped, hand instinctively reaching for his sword.
"That's new," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Shadow's ears flattened, and the wolf let out a low growl.
The mist thickened around them, and Azazel felt the hair on his neck stand up. Shapes seemed to form in the fog—vague, ghostly figures that melted away when he tried to focus on them.
"We're almost there," Azazel said, trying to steady his nerves. "Just a little further."
With each step, the forest seemed to grow darker, the whispers louder. Azazel couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching them.
When they finally emerged from the trees, the village of Simpang lay before them. It was nestled in a wide valley, surrounded by rice fields that were eerily still. The houses looked normal at first glance, but there was an unsettling quiet. No laughter, no chatter, no signs of life.
Azazel swallowed hard. "Well, here we are," he said. "Let's find out what's really going on."
Shadow barked, and together, they walked toward the village, ready for whatever awaited them in the heart of Simpang.