Addicted to murder?

The onlookers were frozen in shock as Azrael effortlessly shattered the sword with his bare fingers. The guard stepped back, clearly intimidated by Azrael's display of strength. Azrael spoke calmly, "I don't plan on causing any trouble, I'll be out of this town soon enough." The guard took a long look at Azrael before storming out of the tavern with his companion.

The old man let out a hearty laugh, clearly amused by the situation. "What an interesting fellow! On second thought, I think it's best that you join us," he said to Azrael. "No need to pay a thing." Azrael graciously accepted the offer.

"We leave at first light tomorrow at the town gate," the old man informed Azrael.

"OK, I'll be there," Azrael said before making his way to the innkeeper to get his room.

As they watched Azrael walk away, one of the men who had been sitting with the old man spoke up. "I can't even sense any ki from him. Don't let him fool you, he is not strong."

The old man turned to him with a look of disbelief. "What would you know about strong people?" he asked.

"Listen old man, if a truly strong person were to come into this place, everyone here would feel it. No one would even dare question him," the man replied.

The old man simply smiled. "I have an eye for people, and I'm sure that man is strong," he said confidently.

"Sure, old man," the other man scoffed as he downed the remaining beer in his large cup before shouting for another jug of beer.

Azrael was led by the Innkeeper to his room, which was located on the second floor of the tavern. The room was small and sparsely furnished, with a single bed and a small wooden table.

The walls were painted a faded yellow, and there was a small window covered with a thin curtain that let in a soft glow of moonlight. The floor was made of creaky wooden planks, and there was a small rug at the foot of the bed.

The room was quiet, with only the sound of the wind outside and the occasional creaking of the floorboards underfoot. Despite its humble appearance, the room was clean and tidy, with no signs of dust or dirt. Overall, the room was simple but comfortable, providing a peaceful place for Azrael to rest after his encounter in the tavern.

Azrael sat on his bed, whispering "Mortimer" under his breath. As usual, there was no response. After the incident at the soulless temple, he had lost his connection to Mortimer and the Watchers gate.

As Azrael tried to get comfortable, he heard loud voices coming from the bar downstairs. He remained calm, he had felt them coming already. He wondered if he should just go with the guards and try to explain, but he knew they probably wouldn't listen to him. He had learned in his short time in the army that power was the only way to earn respect and make people listen.

In the bar, the old man and his companions watched as the guards insisted on going to Azrael's room, despite the innkeeper's attempts to stop them. "Should we help?" the bearded man asked. "No, let's watch and see how it plays out. This might prove me right," the old man responded. Suddenly, one of the guards barged into Azrael's room, breaking down the door.

The noise of the guard breaking down Azrael's door and the subsequent commotion was heard by everyone in the pub downstairs, including the other guards and the two men who had brought them. Suddenly, everything went quiet, and they could hear footsteps and a dragging sound echoing through the hallway. As the footsteps got closer to the staircase, all eyes were on the top, waiting to see what would appear.

Azrael emerged at the top of the staircase, dragging the unconscious guard behind him. The room was silent as everyone watched in shock, listening to the guard's body bouncing down the steps. Azrael stopped at the bottom of the stairs and threw the guard's body at the onlooking guards, saying, "You should have left me alone."

The guards were stunned, and one of them finally shouted, "Apprehend him!" The remaining three guards rushed at Azrael with their swords, but he dodged every swing with ease. It was as if he had been waiting for their attacks. Finally, with a single blow that echoed through the entire pub, Azrael sent one of the guards flying out the door with enough force to crack his armor.

"I'll say it again," Azrael said calmly. "Let me stay here for this night only. I'll be out of here in the morning."

The guards surveyed their fallen comrades, one unconscious and the other sent flying. "Just for tonight," the guard managed to stammer out. "But we better not see you here tomorrow."

Azrael nodded in agreement. "I understand," he said and watched as the guards attended to their comrades.

Azrael walked over to the table where the old man sat. "I'm sorry for causing such a scene. If you no longer wish for me to travel with you, I understand."

"Nonsense," the old man replied. "Young ones like you should stand up for themselves. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you for understanding," Azrael said with relief. "I'll retire to my room now."

Before he could leave, Azrael turned to the innkeeper. "Here is some money for the damages," he said, handing her a few gold coins. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

The innkeeper hesitated, but Azrael insisted she takes the money. "Thank you," she said, leading him to another room.

As Azrael lay in the new bed, he let out a long sigh. His mind was filled with thoughts, but what troubled him the most was how difficult it was for him to resist killing the guards.