Azrael raced alongside a road that crossed through a forest, making the best use of [Shadow Step] and blasts of [Wind] to speed along his progress. It had been around three weeks since he’d left behind the chaos of Nova Lux and his use of the skill had grown considerably.

After escaping with Alec the two of them had decided to part ways, both for practical, as well as personal reasons. Holy Empire would most probably be searching for a golemancer and a mage type combatant travelling together. Azrael also wanted to head West, towards home, while Alec was hoping to visit the largest dwarven city in the south-east. In the end they had parted ways, just after crossing through the mountain pass of the first ring.

As a farewell present Alec had gifted Azrael a prototype golem core, while Azrael had transcribed sequences of runes from the ‘rune library’ that his title {Rune Master} granted him. He’d carefully placed the prototype golem core with the mithril handcuffs.

The core and handcuffs were not the only thing he received out of the entire situation. Briefly after leaving the city he’d recieved a single message.

The Trickster wiggles his eyebrows mischievously at you

Azrael was most definitely sure that he hadn’t added a messaging system to his [Status], but then again he hadn’t added the notification function either. However, with the Trickster you never knew. It might have been nice if the message had been something useful. As it was, it made for a brief distraction.

Either way, since leaving the city and parting with Alec, Azrael had travelled both by day and by night. Only briefly would he stop to rest, sleep, eat or log off. He’d checked the game forums briefly, just after he’s parted from Alec, and found it flooded with information and images from the chaos.

Similarly, on television several different stations were broadcasting videos from the event, starting from his battle at the bridge, his stunt at the statue and finally the riots in the city. Thankfully nobody linked all the events to a single person and there weren’t any overly clear shots of him. He had to admit though, he’d looked very brave and heroic in all the shots though. Holy Empire was withholding an official statement.

Due to the chaos he’d caused, he’d decided to put as much distance between himself and Nova Lux, in order to escape Melissa’s inevitably furious grasp. As the journey wore on however, his speed was fuelled by rising excitement and expectation.

He’d taken slightly over a month to reach Nova Lux, the halfway mark of his journey – that was not including his stay with Mors – and he’d travelled another three weeks since then, meaning that his quite cabin in the woods was less than a fortnight away. Sometimes, when the sun set, he was sure that he could see the looming silhouettes of the mountains that marked the second ring.

The sound of a tree shattering startled him, causing him to lose concentration and nearly miss the timing of [Shadow Step]. Azrael stumbled out of a shadow, narrowly avoiding tripping over a root with [Dramatic Flair], before finally landing and dropping into [Stealth].

Again, there was the sound of something shattering, this time decidedly not wood but bone. It was followed a moment later by an extremely loud and pained yelp and the loud baying of wolves.

It was a distinct difference to the constant monotony of trees and shadows that he’d endured so far and curiosity got the better of him. Following the loud sounds, Azrael travelled in [Stealth] while remaining extremely cautious and ready to run or engage as the situation called for.

The closer he got, the louder the sound became. There was the crunch of bone, the sound of wolves and the occasional sound of a tree being exploding into shrapnel.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Something flew in his direction, a grey ball of fur and muscle. Azrael dodged instinctively, ducking into the nearest shadow and appearing a few meters away. He looked back to find a large wolf looking at him with glassy eyes. Its mouth was wide opened, lined with sharp fangs. Blood dripped from multiple deep wounds, dying its grey coat red.

Azrael instantly summoned two daggers, layering them with [Reinforcement] and fell into the basic stance for Mors’ [Footwork]. The wolf didn’t move though, unblinkingly eyeing him off, even as its own blood started to form a pool at its feet. Azrael adjusted his grip on one of the daggers, waiting for it to make the first move. It never came though.

It took a moment for Azrael to realise that it was already dead. The only thing keeping the massive creature upright was the stump of a broken branch impaled through it. The force of its flight had carried it with such strength that it had snapped the branch of the tree it collided with and impaled itself on it. Behind him the sound of fighting continued.

Azrael shuddered as he imagined what manner of creature could have enough strength to throw a wolf of that size with such force. Still curious, but thoroughly cautious, Azrael crept closer towards the sounds, mindful of any other flying bodies.

As he moved the trees began to thin out slightly, allowing him a better view of the clearing up ahead. Briefly, he saw flashes of grey as they fought with an enemy. As to what exactly that enemy was Azrael couldn’t see. They were too well hidden by the forest’s undergrowth and foliage. Azrael scaled the closest tree, gaining a better vantage point to watch the happenings from.

Hoping to peer through the leaves, Azrael crept along a branch. He cast [Search] feeling mana leave him and return with information.

Ahead of him, in the clearing were five life signatures, with two of them very weak. One of them was larger than the rest though – most probably the wolves’ opponent. Finally breaking through the leaves Azrael had his first glimpse of the battle. The scene was absolute chaos.

What he’d assumed had been a clearing was actually a large area of devastation, with all the surrounding trees being smashed into splinters. Two large wolves lay bleeding amongst the wreckage, while their remaining three members fought with… a small giant?

The mountain of a man was unremarkable in most respects, save for his short cropped blonde hair. Dressed in nothing but simple brown garbs his two most defining features were his size and the massive sword he held in his two hands.

Perhaps sword was too much of a compliment for the weapon. It looked like someone had just stuck a handle into a comically oversized slab of metal. From handle to the end of its blade it was nearly as tall as he was. There was no denying its effectiveness, nor the skill of its wielder, though.

Even as Azrael watched, the man swung his blade diagonally, leaving a deep gash in one of the wolf’s sides. If it hadn’t narrowly evaded, then Azrael was sure that it would have been split in two. A second wolf lunged at the man, just as he finished the blow, hoping to capitalise in on the man’s opening.

Its claws found only the cold metal of the sword, as the man used the wide blade as a shield. The third wolf leapt from where it had been hiding behind a fallen tree. The man didn’t miss a beat, his muscles straining and bulging as he swung the massive blade around to catch it in mid-air. He hit it with the flat of the blade, sending it flying into the trees like a ball from a bat. It crashed into a tree and didn’t get up again.

The blade didn’t stop though, carried onwards by the momentum. It came down like a massive guillotine, decapitating the second wolf that was still recovering from crashing into the blade. The final wolf, realising that it had no chance of victory tried to flee. It leapt over the fallen trees, heading for the forest, but stumbled briefly due to one of its injuries.

The massive blade came down, impaling it along its spine, as the man cleared the distance in a single bounding jump. The wolf slid down the blade, its legs no longer able to bear its weight.

Azrael’s breath was caught in his throat. There had been no elegance in that fight, only pure power and savagery.

The man looked up and scanned the forest, his bright blue eyes seemingly piercing through the foliage and undergrowth. For a brief moment Azrael thought their eyes had met, but then the man continued to scan the remaining forest around the bloody scene of destruction.

Azrael shuddered, not because their eyes might have met, or that he feared the man, but because the man was smiling. Despite being heavily injured himself and bleeding, the man was smiling while being drenched in both his own blood and the blood of the wolves.

Azrael recognised him for what he was – a battle craving monster, on par with the likes of The Son of Virtue. The Beast stirred recognising a powerful opponent and it let out a bit of bloodlust, but Azrael didn’t care. He wanted a peaceful life, not one filled with blood and destruction. Battle junkies sought out blood and destruction, so the easiest thing was simply to avoid them.

Though some part of him was curious about which of the two of them would win in a fight, he suppressed the idea. A peaceful life came first.

Loosening his grip, Azrael slid down the branch and dropped into the shadow at the base of the tree, before resuming his journey away from the site of destruction. If possible, he never wanted to see that madman again.