31 Chapter Thirty-One: More dangers lurk.
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~~~Viewpoint: Azrael Jaesyrian, Sixth Moon, 276 AC~~~
As the body of the Dothraki that tried to attack me fell to the ground, silence reigned in the great hut. With everyone looking at me angry and upset.
"What are you doing?!"
"You fucking asshole!"
"I'll kill you!"
Like an open water fountain, those and more insults suddenly rang out, filling the air with hubbub.
For my part, I didn't startle the moment I received that; instead, I stood for a moment as I watched everyone rant about bad omens and curses.
"It amazes me how low the Dothraki have fallen; once they were feared everywhere, now, they are only given spice and horse meat, even the Khal, as they dare to call themselves, only gather in this hut, and... What do they discuss? Ah, yes, what little settlements and villages they will raid, along with what women they will ride and how many horses they will ask for in each city you cannot enter..... They are all small before me".
All of them I mocked, called them weak, men with narrow minds and clouded vision, to the point where they were all already standing ready to kill me.
"None are worthy to lead the greatest Khalasar in the world... But I am."
With that last part said, many laughed, calling me crazy: "Do you think we will follow you? If you think that, you are stupider than I thought.
I looked at him, seeing that this was a young Khal, maybe thirty or younger.
"Hahaha!" I laughed in his face. "No, you're no good to me; you're going to die, simple as that".
Immediately, I spurred a large bucket of lava in front of me, which extremely ignited the thatch with which the hut was lit.
The strong flames, like constricting snakes, hugged the support poles tightly, burning everything in their path and sweeping away the people in the hut. As for me, the fire did not hurt me; instead, it felt like a gentle breeze when it touched my skin.
And no, it wasn't that I had the result of Daenerys in the books when she became momentarily immune to fire thanks to the involuntary ritual created by burning the corpse of Khal Drogo and her half-dragon son.
No, it was thanks to the fire protection potion, called fire potion, and the use of the fire incantation that I managed to survive this experience.
Accompanied by the fire produced by the spurting bucket of lava, the braziers of the Dosh Khaleen temple, which were large and filled with oil to fuel the fire that lit the temple, gave way under the lava that washed over them, and like wood, their supporting pillars buckled, collapsing and spilling their fathoms and oils, causing the temple to burn faster.
While all this was happening, many Khal had already died, their skin melting and their flesh burning, filling the air with rot. Of those who had not yet died, which was a group of eight men, there was also the 'Khal' who had called me a disappointment as a Khal, who was with the other seven men trying to open the temple doors without success, for on the other side, my blood riders would have already barricaded themselves.
Raising myself a meter above the ground, I said to the poor men before me, "Accept death; know that with it, the world will see the greatest Khalasar in the known world, though I am ashamed to know of your sacrifices, especially considering that death is perfect for you."
With that, I levitated up to the wooden beams that were suffering from the fire and the roof they supported, and with a mighty blow, they fell upon the struggling men trying to open the door, killing them on the spot.
Seeing the scene I had caused, I saw how the temple had become a complete beacon, which removed the darkness from the place with the help of its blazing fire.
"It was... Easy," I muttered, feeling that I had no problem taking out the forty-plus men in the room.
~~~~Viewpoint: Third person~~~~
Approaching the genesis of the lava, Azrael banished the mound of lava that continued to emerge, watching as the lava lost strength and was lost to the earth, leaving as its only evidence the burned temple and a faint layer of hot stone on the ground.
At that moment, as Azrael was watching his handiwork, out of the mound of wood and feigning that Azrael had collapsed, emerged the Khal who had faced Azrael earlier; only now his flesh had melted and was missing part of his face, as well as having his right arm attached to his torso, the result when it burned and his flesh joined.
"So the rumors were true," said the Khal, looking at Azrael, who turned in surprise at the sound of the voice.
"What hadn't killed you?" Azrael asked a confused look on his face, his head cocked to the side.
"Killed me?" The dying Khal answered him with a question of his own: "Many have tried, from the children of the forest in the eternal winter, the eternal sorcerers of Qarth, to those sorcerers of Asshai, and I will not die now under the hand of a... Mere human.
Azrael tensed, as he analyzed the Khal with scrutiny. To the naked eye, he looked like a normal man, leaving the many wounds he bore, and, now that he thought about it, said wounds would have killed any 'normal' person long ago.
Deciding to face the... Man, or whatever the being in front of him was, Azrael asked his name, "Who are you?"
"I am Eleyia" was all that was replied, causing Azrael to be left with the same doubt as before. "You know, a long time ago I felt a deep cut in this plane, something new, something... Externally, I thought it was those pesky red warlocks, but that presence, your presence, was what I felt—full of power hidden under human skin, wasting away in that fragile vessel you call a body."
"I don't know what you want, or what you are doing posing as a Dothraki Khal, but, I warn you, you will receive nothing but blood and dust if you are here to be a danger to me or what is mine," Azrael stressed, with a hardened look and tense demeanor.
The 'Khal' stood still for a moment, when suddenly claws began to sprout from his knuckles, and, with the help of them, he began to tear off what little skin and flesh he had left.
At the same time, his entire body transformed, with two large horns sprouting from his head along with another pair on the back of his head, as he grew in size, stopping at six feet.
"Not many have the power to face, especially humans," said the being, now completely changed, with calloused and red skin, thin, with feet like a horse's hooves, and only two small eyes on its face, with no trace of a nose or mouth.
"Even in my home, the shadowlands; they fear me; I am amazed that you do not make it mortal," the being spoke, explicitly curious about Azrael.
"Why should I fear you?" Azrael asked, not taking his gaze from the being, "You said it yourself; I possess powers beyond what you imagine, even I do not know them all, so the presence of a being such as you do not burden me."
The being nodded, as he let out a demonic laugh from inside his chest: "It was a good idea to come then; it's not every day you see a feast like this".
The atmosphere suddenly became extremely tense, to which Azrael pulled his weapon from his inventory—one of the whips Maicol had created for him months ago. "If you think I'll go down without a fight, you're wrong."
The being stared at the whip in Azrael's hand, which glowed shades of purple and red; apparently, Azrael had enchanted the whip. "You possess a good weapon, but it will not protect you."
"No, it was to distract you," Azrael commented, and immediately several beings fell from the ceiling at the same time, a total of eight witches, their faces broken like broken porcelain, carrying whips just like the one Azrael was using.
Without wasting any time, the witches attacked and, with their whips, rolled up the body of the demon, who began to writhe in pain, while the parts touched by the whips burned.
The demon did not stay contained for long, and with the aid of one of his horns, he began to attack one of the whips, though unsuccessfully at first, during which time, Azrael began to throw at it potions of weakness, poison, and damage.
"Crack!"
Surprisingly, one of the whips, made of netherite, cracked, releasing one of the demon's arms, and taking advantage of that, the demon raised his arm, causing spikes of fire to emerge from the ground.
"Siusss!"
The sound of water falling on a hot surface was heard, as a witch failed to dodge the attack in time, injuring herself and causing it to evaporate into thousands of motes of ash.
"Nooo!"
Azrael shouted, filled with rage and hatred, as he ran quickly and, with his enchanted sword, pierced the demon's chest, which let out a miserable scream.
"Die!"
With a final swing, Azrael grabbed the pommel of his sword and slashed to the top, cleaving the demon's upper half in two.
"Aahhhrgg" let out a last choked scream from the demon, until it too turned to ashes. Disappearing from the earthly plane.
