Chapter 4: He Who Has Nothing
Minutes passed, the entire time Azrael stood frozen, eyes locked on the last place he saw the old man before disappearing.
Everything around him felt off, he wasn’t sure if it was the sour stench of the air in this rundown area or something deeper.
’Born on Judgment Day. Death’s Heir. Raised by a... Skinwalker.’
Was that meant to be ironic? Or tragic? He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to feel.
He had thought that should he ever manage to gain a system, only happiness would await him, yet why did he feel so... hollow?
"Hey,"
A stern voice broke him out of his haze.
Turning, Azrael saw a broad-shouldered man in green military attire. A brown cap sat on his head, marked with a symbol of an angel with a golden crown and spread wings.
"We have received reports that there has been a newly Chosen System User in the area. Looking at you, I presume I have found the person."
Taking a long breath, forcing his mind to calm down by bottling up his emotions as deeply as he possibly could, Azrael replied, "Yes, I am the one."
"Good," the officer nodded. "Grab your things. Anything—items, family members, pets. By law, we’ll make arrangements for them."
Azrael’s eyes briefly flicked back toward the old hut. The place he had once called home.