A dim glow flickered in the underground chamber, casting long shadows against the cold stone walls. The air was heavy with the scent of herbs and alchemical potions. It had been two weeks since Azrael Kaelthorne's battle with the Death Knight God—two weeks since his body had been pushed beyond its mortal limits.
A low groan escaped his lips as his golden eyes fluttered open. The ceiling of the cavern blurred into focus. A familiar weight pressed down on his chest—pain, deep and unrelenting, a reminder of the hellish war he had waged alone. His body felt like it had been torn apart and stitched back together with agony itself.
But he was alive.
Azrael inhaled slowly, the action sending sharp jolts of pain through his ribs. His entire body screamed in protest, the aftereffects of his injuries magnified by 300%, a side effect of his insane regeneration ability mixed with the lingering echoes of his past curse. His limbs were stiff, each movement like dragging a boulder bound to his soul.
His senses sharpened, picking up muffled voices nearby.
Then—
A gasp.
"AZRAEL!"
Before he could react, something crashed into him, nearly knocking the breath out of his lungs.
"You absolute idiot!"
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOKE UP!"
Elaris Velmira and Veyrin Malzev were both at his bedside in an instant. Elaris, usually so composed, had tears in her crimson eyes, her grip on his arm trembling. Veyrin, normally grinning or making jokes, looked more serious than Azrael had ever seen him.
Elaris' voice cracked as she clutched his hand. "You were asleep for two whole weeks! Do you even understand how scared we were?!"
Veyrin sighed, rubbing his face before muttering, "Damn it, Azrael… You almost gave me a heart attack. I thought you'd never wake up."
Azrael blinked slowly, his mind still groggy. "What… happened?"
Elaris smacked his chest—not too hard, considering his condition, but enough to make him grunt. "You fought a freaking LICH KING alone! And then a DEATH KNIGHT GOD! And you nearly DIED!"
"I won." Azrael muttered.
Elaris' eye twitched. "That's not the point, you lunatic!"
Azrael chuckled weakly. "You're both acting like I planned to die. I had everything under control."
"YOU WERE BLEEDING TO DEATH AND PASSED OUT FOR TWO WEEKS!" Elaris snapped. "That's not 'under control'! That's called being an IDIOT!"
Veyrin wiped an imaginary tear. "Rest in peace, my dear friend. He lived with honor but died an absolute fool."
Azrael rolled his eyes and tried to sit up—only for pain to lance through his muscles like burning steel. He barely stifled a groan, his body shaking under the strain.
Elaris immediately grabbed a potion and shoved it into his hands. "Drink. Now."
Azrael gave her a look. "I can heal on my own—"
"Drink it before I drown you in it."
Azrael wisely obeyed. The high-level healing potion burned as it flowed down his throat, its effects rapidly knitting his torn flesh together. He grabbed another—then another—drinking ten in total until the pain dulled to a manageable level.
His breath steadied. The lingering aftereffects of his injuries faded, the curse's backlash returning to normal levels. His strength began returning, and his body no longer felt like it was on the verge of collapse.
Azrael flexed his fingers experimentally. "Much better."
Elaris scowled. "I swear, you are the biggest idiot I know."
Veyrin crossed his arms. "Same. But at least you're our idiot."
Azrael smirked. "I feel so loved."
Elaris huffed, wiping the last of her tears before standing up. "Come on. You need to move around. We're going to the treasure room."
---
The Treasure Room of the Ancient Dungeon
The moment the heavy doors creaked open, the trio was met with a breathtaking sight. Mountains of gold, artifacts humming with power, weapons crafted by forgotten gods. The chamber stretched endlessly, a hoard worthy of an emperor.
Veyrin's eyes sparkled. "Now THIS is what I call a jackpot."
Elaris, despite her noble upbringing, looked equally impressed. She moved toward the artifacts, scanning them carefully. "Some of these are ancient relics… We should take what we can use."
Veyrin wasted no time, grabbing a few artifacts he had been searching for. He muttered something about a "personal project."
Elaris selected a few powerful artifacts for herself, including a royal tiara infused with lunar magic and a celestial sword.
Azrael, however, was drawn to something different.
At the far end of the room, resting atop an obsidian pedestal, was a suit of armor cloaked in a dark aura. Abyssal energy coiled around it like living shadows.
His golden eyes narrowed as he approached. The armor pulsed, almost as if it were calling him. He could read the inscription engraved into its chestplate.
"Abyssal Crown."
The moment he touched it, a system window appeared.
> [Abyssal Crown Suit Acquired]
+100 Endurance
+50 Agility
Abyssal Aura Resistance
A smirk tugged at his lips. "I'll take this."
He grabbed the suit and headed to a private chamber to change.
---
Back with Elaris and Veyrin
When Azrael returned, clad in his new armor, both of them paused.
Elaris blinked. "That… actually looks good on you."
Veyrin clicked his tongue. "If I stay with you any longer, I swear I'll never get a girlfriend."
Azrael snorted. "You were planning to?"
Veyrin scoffed. "Hey, I'm a charming guy."
Azrael raised a brow. "How old are you again?"
Veyrin smirked. "Fifteen. Same as both of you. Just a few months older."
Azrael rolled his eyes. "Then you have plenty of time to fail at romance."
Veyrin gasped dramatically. "How dare you?"
Elaris sighed. "I swear, you two are impossible."
Azrael smirked, feeling something strange in his chest. It was rare for him to feel at ease—to enjoy simple moments like this.
For the first time in a long time, he wasn't just fighting for survival.
He had people who cared.
---
Exiting the Ancient Dungeon
As the trio stepped out of the dungeon, the warm light of the sun greeted them.
Elaris stretched, her crimson eyes softening as she looked toward the distant capital. "I need to return to the empire."
Azrael nodded. "Be careful. The royal court isn't safe."
Elaris smirked. "I could say the same to you."
She turned, her light blonde hair catching the sunlight appeared sliver, before walking toward her horse. "Don't die, Azrael."
Azrael simply nodded. "I won't."
Elaris smiled one last time before riding off toward the capital.
Veyrin stretched lazily. "Well, that leaves us. Let's go to my place. You need rest, and I need a drink."
Azrael chuckled, following him down the dirt path. For once, he wasn't rushing toward another fight.
For once, he was just Azrael.
And for now—that was enough.