บท 7: Meeting the old friend!

Azrael lay there, just watching the stars and the moon.

Their lives were perfect. Just come out at night and illuminate the sky, and people would automatically think they were godsend beings.

Just perfect.

He thought about his next action. After recovering, he was ready to move to the mountains to see the old man. There was nothing else to do.

The earlier he got training, the better.

Bartram was on his list now. He would come back for her when the time came, but until then, she could sleep peacefully.

He took one final look at the tavern. It was silent now. There were no people bustling in and out of there.

He closed his eyes and finally dozed off to sleep.

...

A few hours later, he jolted awake, feeling a sharp pain in his legs.

"Fuck! Bugs!"

A bug, larger than the palm of his hand, was nibbling on his injured leg. With its large and uneven mouth, it sucked on the flesh with great vigour, as if trying to drain all the blood from him before moving onto another limb. The sight made Azrael want to vomit. His hand shot up without any conscious control over what came next. A single finger punched through the insect's head, sending its body flying away into the dark woods behind them.

There was no blood dripping from where it had sucked, but he was sure that, given the size and state the bug was in, he had lost a little too much blood.

He looked around and found it was early morning, even before the rooster's call.

"Perfect!" he thought.

He gathered his items and climbed down the roof. Though it was difficult, he didn't have as much pain as before.

He walked through the intersections and the narrow alleyways. It was quiet and peaceful outside. Only the sound of birds chirping could be heard. In the distance, he saw a group of men carrying crates along the road. They stopped and set the cargo aside, after which two other men started unloading the goods while the rest stood guard.

He turned around to avoid any human contact.

After walking for some time, he arrived at the familiar scenery of waves crashing on large boulders.

The first thing Azrael did was to eat some herbs he stole from the healer.

With a little bitterness because of the lack of sugar, he chewed and swallowed them whole.

As he waited for the herbs to take effect, Azrael surveyed his surroundings. He was standing on a rocky outcropping, overlooking the sea. The waves were crashing against the rocks below, sending up plumes of white spray. He took a deep breath of the salty sea air and felt invigorated.

After a few minutes, he felt the herbs begin to work their magic. The pain in his leg lessened, and he felt more alert.

Now, he could set out on his journey to the old man, but he had to sell most of the loot from the wreckage unless he wanted it to spoil.

He could take the sword and the knife with him, along with the dresses, herbs, and some gold coins.

Dressing nobly would only attract attention and make him easy prey for anyone who might find him, so that was not going to happen.

Only the clothes he wore under the armor remained. That should suffice since it wasn't like he needed anything else anyway.

He decided to train a little, since he felt his mana within himself.

He took the sword out. The black blade didn't even reflect against the morning sun.

He reached inside and felt his mana, the way it brimmed inside his body. The way it flowed through his veins like a river. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the energy coursing through him.

Azrael began to practice his swordsmanship, moving through different forms and techniques. He swung the blade with precision and accuracy, feeling the weight of it in his hand. As he moved, he felt the power of his mana infusing his movements, making them faster and stronger.

He continued to practice for several hours, until he was satisfied with his progress. He then packed up his belongings and set out on his journey to find the old man.

He hid the bottles in the boulder, hoping no one would find them. But he took one bottle with him to keep him company on the way.

Waiting on the boulders was foolishness as people would soon find the wreckage.

As he walked, he thought about what he might learn from the old man. He knew that the old man was a powerful mage, and he hoped that he would be able to teach him more about his own abilities.

He also thought about Bartram and wondered how she was doing. He hoped that she was safe and that he would be able to see her again soon.

As he walked, he took in the sights and sounds around him. The world was a beautiful and mysterious place, full of wonder and danger. He knew that he was only just beginning his journey, and that there was much more to learn and discover.

He didn't think much about anything as he continues his paths. There was only revenge on his mind. Revenge to his old friends, revenge to his old wife for the way they betrayed him.

The last moments of his life played on a loop in his mind. Igniting his mind of whatever embers remains in his mind.

He clenched his fist tightly, making it bleed.

"I'll kill them! Every single one of them!" he cursed them in his mind.

But suddenly on his way, he collided with somebody, a kid, and they both fell to the ground.

"Ouch!" said Azrael.

"Where are your eyes, boy?!" said the boy, rubbing his forehead.

"I'm so sorry--" Azrael sat there, stupefied, seeing the boy.

The blonde locks of hair that fell on his face and those blue eyes, that damn blue eyes. He would never forget that color of those eyes.