10 The Hunter Becomes Hunted!

The journey started early the next morning as soon as dawn broke over the horizon.

By noon they reached a small forest nearby.

This was exactly what Azrael wanted; to observe how witches hid themselves within the woods. He followed closely behind the witch hunter as he strode ahead purposefully, ignoring the trees that blocked his path.

He had watched the hunter preparing for the hunt.

As they entered the forest, Azrael noticed that the witch hunter's demeanor had changed. He was no longer jovial and lighthearted, but rather alert and serious, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of the witch's presence. Azrael couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement, he had never witnessed a witch hunt before.

"Here," Azrael extended the water skin he'd been holding. "You seem rather parched. It's got fruit juice; should be quite refreshing."

The Witch hunter, tense and wary, regarded the water skin for a brief moment before promptly seizing it and downing its contents in one go.

"I—" Azrael began to raise a hand, then hesitated and let it drop.

They walked in silence for what seemed like hours, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves under their feet and the occasional call of a bird. Azrael's eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of anything unusual. Suddenly, the witch hunter held up a hand, signaling for Azrael to stop.

They both stood still, listening intently. Azrael could hear a soft humming sound, growing louder with each passing moment. The witch hunter drew his sword, and slowly made his way towards the source of the sound. Azrael followed closely behind, his heart pounding with anticipation.

As they reached a small clearing, they saw her. The witch was sitting on a fallen tree trunk, her eyes closed in concentration as she hummed a soft tune. She was beautiful, with long, flowing hair and her curves accentuated by the thin fabric of the dress that hugged her shapely form. Her skin glowed softly in the faint sunlight, highlighting the faint blush that painted her cheeks. As they approached, the witch opened her eyes and glanced up at them.

She gave them a smile that sent chills down Azrael's spine. There was something about the woman that was familiar yet alien, as if this creature did not belong among mortals. Yet Azrael knew instinctively that they weren't dealing with an ordinary human, nor was she simply a simple mortal. Something in the depths of her eyes hinted at a deeper mystery that lay beyond comprehension.

The witch looked at the witch hunter first, then turned to regard the boy curiously.

"You've brought a boy like you promised, Marcus. That's good...that's really good."

The witch hunter, Marcus, nodded, his grip tightening around his sword. "Indeed, I have fulfilled my end of the bargain," he responded, his voice steady and resolute. "Now, it's time for you to fulfill yours."

Azrael felt a sudden surge of apprehension. He glanced at Marcus, searching for answers, but the witch hunter's gaze remained fixed on the witch before them.

The witch's gaze shifted back to Marcus, a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Ah, dear Marcus, always the cunning one," she remarked, her voice dripping with a subtle hint of mockery. "But you see, my dear hunter, the terms of our agreement can be... flexible."

Azrael's heart skipped a beat as he realized the true extent of the witch's manipulation. He had been nothing more than a pawn in this wicked game, a means to an end for both the witch and Marcus. The weight of betrayal settled heavily upon him, but he knew he couldn't afford to falter now.

Marcus, his jaw clenching with determination, stepped forward, his sword held firmly at the ready. "I've upheld my part of the bargain," he insisted, his voice tinged with defiance. "Now, leave this area as promised, witch."

The witch chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to echo through the clearing, enveloping them in an eerie aura. "Oh, Marcus, dear Marcus," she taunted, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "Did you truly believe I would so easily abandon these bountiful woods? No, no, my desires extend far beyond a single boy."

Azrael watched as Marcus tensed, his grip on the sword tightening even further. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the anticipation of an impending clash between the witch and the witch hunter reaching its peak.

"Very well," Marcus growled, his voice now edged with anger. "If you won't keep your word, then I'll end this here and now."

With a swift motion, Marcus lunged forward, his blade aimed at the witch's heart. But the witch, agile and perceptive, effortlessly sidestepped the attack, her movements fluid and graceful. She retaliated with a surge of dark energy, sending Marcus staggering backward.

Azrael's mind raced as he watched the battle unfold before him. The witch and the witch hunter clashed, their opposing forces intertwining in a deadly dance. It was a battle of skill and will, of light and darkness, with Azrael caught in the middle.

Determined to break free from his role as a pawn, Azrael gathered his courage and made a decision. He would not let himself be used any longer.

A wave of seething rage coursed through Azrael's veins, fueling the fires of his determination. The weight of Marcus's betrayal bore down upon him, igniting a tempest of emotions within his core. The intensity of his anger manifested as a blaze of ethereal energy swirling around him, crackling with untapped power.

His breath came in short, ragged gasps as he watched Marcus being tossed aside by the witch's dark magic. The pain of betrayal was eclipsed by a surge of righteous fury, compelling Azrael to take action. His fists clenched, his knuckles turning white as his nails bit into his palms.

"No more," he growled through gritted teeth, his voice strained with the raw intensity of his emotions. "No more will I be a pawn in your wicked game!"

With every ounce of his being, Azrael unleashed his dormant magical powers, tapping into the ancient reservoir of his past life. The air around him crackled with energy, tingling against his skin like a volatile storm. Sparks of lightning danced in his eyes, reflecting the turmoil within his soul.

He stepped forward, his steps resolute, towards the battleground where Marcus and the witch clashed. The ground trembled beneath his feet as his magical aura intensified, swirling with an otherworldly radiance. His mere presence seemed to command attention, a force to be reckoned with.

The witch's eyes widened with surprise as she felt the surge of power emanating from Azrael. A flicker of fear danced across her face, quickly replaced by a twisted grin of defiance. "So, the boy has found his own power," she sneered, her voice laced with venom. "But do you truly believe you can challenge me?"

Azrael's eyes blazed with determination as he raised his hands, summoning the ancient incantations of his past. Arcane symbols danced in the air, interweaving with the crackling energy that surrounded him. His voice resonated with an otherworldly resonance as he spoke the words of power, his voice carrying the weight of centuries.

"Fury of the betrayed, grant me strength! Unleash the dormant powers within! I am Azrael, wielder of justice, and I shall vanquish all who stand against me! Fulgar!!!"

As his words echoed through the clearing, Azrael felt a surge of power surge through his veins, filling every fiber of his being. The air crackled with raw energy, swirling around him in a vortex of power. His eyes blazed with an intense light, radiating the strength of his conviction.

With a mighty roar, Azrael unleashed his magical onslaught upon the witch. Bolts of lightning shot forth from his outstretched hands, searing through the air with blinding speed. The crackling energy struck the witch's defenses, tearing through the veil of darkness with a force unmatched.

The witch shrieked in agony as the lightning surged through her, wracking her body with convulsions of pain. Her powers wavered, weakened under the assault of Azrael's unleashed fury. The balance of the battle shifted, the tides turning against the witch.

Azrael seized the opportunity, his gaze locked on the faltering witch hunter. With a determined stride, he closed the distance between them, his eyes burning with a blend of rage and sorrow. In one swift motion, he disarmed Marcus, seizing the blade that had been used to deceive him.

A chilling smile curled upon Azrael's lips as he locked eyes with Marcus, a mix of defiance and anguish in his gaze. "You thought you could use me, betray me," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "But now, the tables have turned. It is you who shall taste the sting of your treachery!"