Chapter 7: The Price of Devotion
Azrael’s eyes lingered on the dagger for several long seconds. Then they shifted to Seyra’s gaze—she was looking at him with a dangerous glint in her eyes.
Taking a steady breath, he asked, "How do I show my devotion?"
"Start by taking the dagger," she replied.
He raised an eyebrow but did as she said. The weight of the weapon was solid in his hand.
’Incredible,’ his black pupils widened with awe. This wasn’t some cheap blade; it was a proper weapon, one he had never had the privilege to hold until now. The blade was spotless—not a single mark on it—and it looked so sharp it could easily slice through stone like butter.
Feeling Seyra’s gaze still fixed on him, he shook his head with a cough.
"Your finger," Before he could speak, Seyra interrupted, "Cut it."
His confusion faded, replaced by caution. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as he tightened his grip on the dagger, a subtle gesture Seyra immediately noticed.
"Don’t worry," she said, her earlier sharp smile softening to a simple grin.
"The blade isn’t laced with poison, toxin, or any harmful substance. I can assure you that you won’t suffer any side effects."
"That’s good to know," Azrael said, staring intently at the woman before him not because he was captivated by her beauty, but because of the danger she barely concealed. "But why should I cut my finger?"
"That’s the test," Seyra sighed, leaning back in her chair. "The first phase is to see if you can push your body until it breaks down and beyond. This is the most important quality of a Chosen. No matter your Inborn Trait Rank, if you don’t have the will to push past your limits, sooner or later you’ll become nothing more than a nuisance—dead in a Rift or a monster’s maw."