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.
