The Elven baggage!

Azrael could feel her. Following him, hiding from tree to tree.

He left the hut immediately after freeing the Elven girl. He didn't want to linger anymore lest she join him. It wouldn't be beneficial to him. He would be compelled to feed her, protect her from anything and everything, even humans.

This village, this kingdom itself, was too backward. No other species had walked these roads for over four or five centuries. It was a place of ignorance and prejudice, where different races were met with fear and hostility. Azrael knew it would be dangerous for the Elven girl to be seen here, for her own safety and for his sanity.

He darted forward from time to time, trying to shake off the Elven girl. But she was persistent. Even though he felt like she was thin and fragile, she was keeping up with him.

'Damn Elves and their agile bodies!' He cursed.

It was darkening already, and it will take another four or five hours to reach the village. 'Damn it.' He understand the only way to survive the night was to camp in the woods and leave tomorrow. He wasn't too keen on fighting a pack of wolves or any other creatures at all.

He stopped in his tracks and took a deep breath. Then shook his head.

Fifteen minutes later, he selected a suitable ground and cleared the area of any weeds and grasses. He even checked for any footprints or claw marks on the trees so as not to attract unwanted attention. Water was safe as there were two water skins, courtesy of the late Witch Hunter.

He lit up the firewood using magic and started warming the food that he took from the witch's hut. The hut was a treasure trove of knowledge, yet the food and equipment were less than desirable. The fruits were cold to the touch as the night was chilling everything.

"Tasty," he smiled, feeling his stomach growl. This won't do him any better. He understands that, but for now, the fruits have to suffice.

Azrael settled down by the crackling fire, his eyes scanning the surrounding darkness for any signs of movement. The forest was alive with nocturnal creatures, their sounds creating an eerie symphony that echoed through the trees. The Elven girl, still keeping her distance, watched him cautiously from the shadows.

As he nibbled on the warm fruits, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving her behind. He knew firsthand the hardships and dangers that awaited her in this unforgiving world. Yet, he also understood the weight of responsibility and the sacrifices he would have to make to fulfill his mission.

"Survival comes first," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "In this world, only the strong endure."

But even as he uttered those words, a flicker of compassion ignited within him. He had witnessed enough suffering and injustice to know that strength alone was not enough to navigate the complexities of life. There had to be a balance—a harmony between power and empathy.

'Have I become that deprived? No compassion to even those who need help!'

For all the rage he had in him, he was, foremost, a hero in his previous. Someone who helped the poor and needy without asking for anything in return. Someone who saw genuine care and love in those who he saved. The last moments of his life were cursed, he admits, but other than that, he was a good man.

'What has become of me?' He sighed. He understands that the girl was not even aware of his betrayal, maybe even doesn't know him or the Legion and he was punishing someone innocent for a few ones who wronged him.

At the same time, he heard a growling sound from behind. He chuckled.

"I can hear your stomach growling," he said looking at the fire. "And you'll freeze to death if you stay there with that tunic. You can join me if you want to."

The girl was taken aback by the sudden invitation and was hesitant. She knew he was a good man, he did not even know her name, yet he saved her and took her away from the clutches of the evil. Though he left her in the woods, all alone, he at least didn't try to take advantage of her.

Azrael's words hung in the air, and the Elven girl hesitated for a moment before cautiously stepping out from the shadows. She approached the fire by walking around the fire, her eyes still filled with wariness but also a glimmer of gratitude. She warily sat on the ground opposite to him and watched him.

Neither of them spoke anything.

Her breaths stabilized as she was near the fire. She sighed in relief and opened her palms, welcoming the soothing warmth of the fire.

"I... I don't even know your name," she spoke softly, her voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

"Good."

"..."

After another two minutes, she spoke again. "Aren't you curious about me?" She furrowed her brows, then her stomach growled again. Her face quickly reddened and she snapped her face to the side.

Azrael took an apple from the basket and tossed it to her. The apple rolled through her hand, and the Elven girl scrambled to catch it. She caught it with a grunt, her face red as she bit the apple with a loud crunch.

Azrael observed her as she devoured the apple, a small smile playing on his lips. In the midst of ravaging the apple, she saw his smile.

"What? I'm just too hungry," her words were non-coherent as she was chewing. "That Witch didn't even feed me well."

"That apple is hers," he responded.

She stopped chomping for a second and held his gaze before continuing to devour it. He took two more apples and a tangerine and gave them to her.

"Here," he said, and she grabbed the fruit.

"Thank you," she spoke with a slight smile, her cheeks puffed with the fruit in her mouth.

He watched her with curious eyes wondering how she came to this kingdom. But he didn't need to know that details. In fact, he doesn't want to even know her name at all. It was too much hassle. She didn't have any roles in his previous life and he doesn't want her to have a role in this life.

The crackling of the fire filled the silence between them as the Elven girl finished eating, her hunger slowly subsiding. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up at Azrael.

"Are you not going to tell me your name?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of vulnerability.

Azrael's gaze met hers, his eyes unreadable. "Names hold power," he replied cryptically. "It's best if you don't know mine."

Her brows furrowed, a mixture of confusion and disappointment evident on her face. She had hoped for some connection, some semblance of trust between them, but it seemed that Azrael was determined to maintain his distance.

"I suppose I should be grateful for your help," she said softly, her voice filled with resignation. "But I still don't understand why you saved me. And why you're being so... closed off."

"I just saved a fellow being, that's all," he replied. "And I'm not closed off. Humans are like this."

"Really?" She furrowed her brow, a mix of surprise and unease crossing her features. "But that witch was loud and cackling. Her laughter often kept me awake at night." She shuddered, recalling the haunting memories. "Oh, and the Oranges was actually quite nice. Even better than the apples."

Azrael's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of recognition passing through them. "Whisperwind kingdom," he said, his tone laced with a hint of curiosity. "You are from the great Whisperwind kingdom of the Northern Continent."

Her breath caught in her throat, and her body tensed as if caught in a trap. "How do you know that?" she asked, her voice betraying a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

Azrael's expression remained stoic, his gaze unwavering. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words and guarded secrets. The crackling fire seemed to grow dimmer as the tension grew.

"Oranges," he finally spoke, his voice carrying a weight of significance. "I have only heard citizens of the Whisperwind kingdom refer to tangerines as oranges."