Chapter 55: Attack(2)
Azael stopped.
His feet came to a halt against the broken stone road, dust still settling around him, flames crackling in the background.
Slowly... he lifted his head.
Behind the mask, his violet eyes sharpened, locking onto the cloaked man in front of him.
The screams, the fire, the chaos everything faded to the background.
Only the enemy remained in his sight. His grip tightened around the sword in his hand. A faint red-golden glow flickered along the blade.
Then, with a cold voice the man, he spoke "Well... it doesn’t matter who you are... you are going to die." The cloaked man smirked under his hood.
Without another word, he dashed forward. Like a shadow tearing through the air.
His speed was terrifying.
In an instant, he closed the distance, his sword slicing forward toward Azael’s neck with lethal precision.
CLANG!!
Azael reacted just in time.
His sword rose, barely managing to intercept the strike. Sparks burst into the air as the two blades collided.
The force behind the attack made Azael’s arms tremble.
’Fast...!’
He immediately pushed mana through his body.
Blue mana surged beneath his skin, reinforcing his muscles, strengthening his bones, enhancing his physical capabilities.
His stance stabilized. But the enemy didn’t stop. The cloaked man twisted his wrist and slashed again, this time aiming for Azael’s ribs.
Azael stepped back, barely avoiding the full impact,
SLASH!
The tip of the blade grazed his side. A thin line of blood appeared, quickly soaking into his black shirt.
"Tch—!"
Azael gritted his teeth.
’Too fast...!’
Before he could regain his balance, the man’s sword came again.
This time the strike came from above, while cutting the air in whistling sound.
Azael raised his blade
CLANG!!
Another heavy clash.
The impact sent vibrations through his arms, numbing his grip. The cloaked man’s strength wasn’t normal.
Dark mana began to seep from his body.
Black energy wrapped around his blade, twisting like smoke, giving off a sinister aura.
Azael’s eyes narrowed. ’Darkness element...’
The man moved again. He was now faster than before.
Azael barely saw it, the way he moved was hard for Azael to follow.
A black blur was there.
SLASH!
A deep cut opened across Azael’s shoulder. Blood splattered.
"GH—!"
Pain shot through his body. Blood spilled, warm and thick.
He staggered back.
The cloaked man didn’t give him time to recover. He pressed forward relentlessly.
Slash after slash.
Each strike was precise, brutal, and filled with killing intent.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Azael blocked what he could, dodged what he could—but he was being overwhelmed.
Once again he was forced to fight someone who was stronger than him.
The difference in power was clear. The difference in speed ... even clearer.
’Damn it...!’
Azael forced mana into his legs and jumped back, creating distance.
The only reason he was able to avoid few attacks were because of his experience. But once again his experience mean nothing when his body couldn’t match the speed and strength of his opponent.
The moment he landed on ground, he raised his left hand.
A magic circle formed instantly.
Intricate, a glowing,red-golden color patterned magic circle.
Heat surged violently around it. Not like how normal fire. It was special, more stronger.
A sphere of blazing fire formed in front of his palm. Larger than before. He had used more mana for this attack.
He had conjured it more hotter and denser.
[Fireball]
The sphere shot forward like a cannon. The cloaked man didn’t dodge this time.
Instead he swung his sword. A wave of dark energy burst from the blade.
BOOM!!
The fireball collided with the darkness mid-air.
The explosion shook the surroundings, flames and black energy scattering in all directions.
It send shockwave through the air, trying to pushed away anything that were beside them.
Azael used that moment. He dashed forward as fast as possible. His sword ignited. Red-golden flames wrapped around the blade, flickering like a living entity, beautiful yet deadly.
After practicing for week he was able to wrapped the flames around blade more better.
His Phoenix Fire blaze beautifully over the blade. They were not like destructive,but it felt like they were filled with life.
He slashed downward. The cloaked man blocked. But it didn’t end there .
CLANG!!
Because this time the fire in Azael’s sword spread. The moment their blades touched, flames crawled onto the enemy’s sword. Faster and furious.
The man’s expression shifted slightly. For the first time, he was surprise.
He immediately jumped back, shaking his blade to disperse the flames.
"...Interesting. You got some moves," he muttered.
Azael didn’t stop. He pushed forward again. This time with aggression. He needs to end this or at least survive this.
His sword danced through the air, leaving trails of red-golden fire behind. The blade in hand was trying to kill his enemy. Yet it looked beautiful and elegant because of fire.
Slash!
Clang!
Thrust!
Clang!
The two exchanged blows rapidly.
Fire against darkness. It felt like Light against shadow. Each clash sent sparks and mana waves bursting outward.
But even with his enhanced body... Even with Phoenix Fire... Azael was still at a disadvantage.
His mana was in small amount. His physical strength was not too much.
For some reason his stamina had increase since he awakened the Phoenix Fire. Azael mostly thought it was because the fire was filled with life. Since it belongs to Phoenix.
For others it might be hot, destructive and dangerous.
But for Azael the flames were like a part of him..he didn’t felt any destruction from it.
The cloaked man suddenly stepped in closer than before. He was too close.
Azael’s eyes widened. The man’s knee drove into his stomach.
"UGHH!!"
The air was knocked out of him instantly. Before he could recover.
A punch came to Azael.
Straight to his stomach..
CRACK!
Azael’s body turned into bow, as was shot backward.
His body was sent crashing to the ground loudly.
THUD!
Pain exploded through his skull. His vision blurred. Blood trickled from his lips.
"Tch! Good talent...but you are still weak ," the cloaked man said coldly as he walked toward him.
Azael tried to get up. But his body screamed in pain.
Still he forced himself. He pushed against the ground.
Stood up again. His breathing was heavy. His clothes were torn.
Blood stained his body.
Yet his grip on the sword didn’t loosen.
"...I’m not done yet," he muttered. A smile formed under his mask.
The cloaked man tilted his head slightly.
Then he vanished again.
Azael barely reacted.
SLASH!!
A deep wound tore across his chest.
"ARGH!!"
Blood sprayed from his new wound. Azael staggered back the the attack.
Another strike came. And another.
Each one landing. Each one cutting deeper.
His body was reaching its limit. His mana was fluctuating. He could still fight but his mana was running out, and he was losing lot of blood.
His movements were slowing.
Yet he still stood. Still fought. He still resisted.
The flames around his blade flickered weaker now... but they didn’t disappear.
Because he refused to fall. Because he refused to run. Because this he didn’t liked that.
This was not him,he had fought more hard battle. He had seen death closer to him many times.
And he would not let it burn without a fight. The cloaked man raised his sword again. Darkness gathered around the blade.
The other cloaked figure was wreking havoc on other side. He was clashing against two citizens who were trying to fight him. Trying to control him just like how Azael was trying to do.
Just then another strike came to him. This strike was meant to end it.
His blade was covered with black darkness. It was deeper and more dense than before.
Azael raised his sword one last time. His vision blurred. His body trembling.
But his eyes still burned with determination.
The two moved at the same time and their blades collided once again.
The collision sent shockwaves through the air.
Azael staggered back, his boots scraping against the broken stone as he struggled to hold his ground. His arms burned. His chest heaved. Blood dripped steadily from his wounds, pattering softly against the dust below.
His vision swam. But something stirred inside him.
"AAAARGH—!!"
The scream tore from his throat raw and ragged, not from despair... but from something else entirely.
Something that refused to die. The flames on his blade responded instantly. They didn’t flicker. They didn’t fade. He used all of his mana to attack the man.
A violent torrent of red-golden fire burst from the sword, roaring outward like a living inferno, wild and blazing and furious. The heat warped the air around him.
The ground beneath his feet scorched black. The light was blinding, consuming everything around Azael in a wreath of brilliant, raging fire.
It wasn’t controlled. It wasn’t precise.
The cloaked man’s eyes went wide.
For the first time... he felt it. He felt danger.
He moved fast, throwing himself backward with explosive force. His instincts screamed at him and he trusted them completely.
But not fast enough.
The flames chased him like a living thing, hungry and relentless. The edge of the blaze caught his cloak, latching onto the fabric instantly.
Phoenix Fire didn’t behave like normal flame.
It didn’t simply burn. It spread rapidly.
Within seconds, the fire crawled up the cloak in long, snaking tendrils of red and gold. The man clicked his tongue sharply, wasting no time.
His hands moved and he ripped the cloak from his shoulders in one fluid motion, hurling it aside before the fire could reach him fully.
The burning cloak crumpled to the ground in a heap, blazing brightly against the dark road.
Silence settled between them for a brief moment.
Azael stood there breathing hard, sword still raised, flames still licking at the blade in quieter, steadier pulses now. His body was wrecked. His wounds still bled. But his eyes... his eyes were sharp behind the mask.
And slowly, for the first time tonight... He saw the man’s face.
He was younger than Azael expected. Late twenties, perhaps. Sharp features. Dark eyes that carried something cold and practised in them, the eyes of someone who had seen violence for a long time and had stopped flinching at it long ago.
And running down the line of his jaw...
A scar. Long and deliberate, like a signature left by someone else’s blade.
The man reached up and ran a hand briefly through his hair, glancing once at the burning cloak on the ground beside him. Then his gaze returned to Azael.
Something shifted in his expression. Not in fear nor it was respect.
But something close to it.
"...So that’s what you’re hiding," he said quietly.
"Well you look okay. " Azael said while smirking behind the mask.