Confrontation

Azel now on the third floor took steady steps, there was only one door on the third floor and it was at the end of the hall.

Azel arrived in front of the well-decorated door, the door was engraved with Mavoghany a very expensive material, and the nameplate at the door was glistening in silver lustre.

'Vena do a quick power scan for me.'

{Got it.}

Half a second later Vena replied to Azel and gave him the results, behind the door was a…

"What a mid-D-rank Dmitrix doing here?"

{…..How am I supposed to know?}

"It's a rhetorical question."

{I know that anyway what is your plan?}

"My plan is quite simple…I'll..."

Azel moved back a few feet away from the door.

His legs were heating up and his surroundings were shimmering as the heat was messing with the light.

"Jump him."

Azel felt a familiar rush of anticipation. There was a time when he would have hesitated and questioned the morality of his actions, but those days were gone.

 The quest and he all had seen during it had changed everything. Every fiber of his being now thrummed with a singular purpose: survival and dominance.

The whispers of his past self seemed faint, almost non-existent. The man he once was would have sought another way, but here and now, the flames of his determination burned away any remnants of doubt.

BOOOOOMM!!!!!

Golden red flames shot from his soles, and it increased his speed, with this insane amount of speed Azel approached the door and kicked it away.

BAM!!!

In the room were two men; one was stout and was dressed in extravagant robes, and the other was a tall, slender wearing a green and white clothing similar to that of an adventurer, he had a mask covering half of his face.

Reacting quickly the masked adventurer pushed the stout man away, saving him from the incoming flaming debris.

Hovering on the ground Azel turned his attention towards the masked adventurer.

"Why a-"

The stout man tried to speak but was interrupted when he felt something fly past him.

Azel's mind raced, his thoughts sharp and focused. He had learned to read people quickly, assess their threats and weaknesses in mere moments.

 The masked adventurer's quick reaction told Azel everything he needed to know. This man was a fighter, skilled and disciplined. But Azel was no longer playing by the rules of mere mortals. He was embracing his darker, more primal instincts.

//COUGH//

The masked adventurer coughed up a bit of blood, it felt like he ran through multiple Mallhogian bulls.

It was very painful and he wanted to take a time out but that was impossible because the young man was about to strike AGAIN.

Moving out of the way, the masked adventurer dodged a flaming punch from Azel.

He rolled a few more times and brought out his weapons, two curved short swords.

Azel pulled his fist out of the wall and flexed it a bit.

'Let's try this again shall we.'

Azel attacked the masked adventurer, swinging his foot at the adventurer's sides, the adventurer adjusted his center of gravity and weaved the kick smoothly.

The masked adventurer bounced back a little fully collecting himself after the weave.

He observed his attacker deeply and noted a few things about him like his rank.

'Fool.'

He said to himself.

Bringing out his weapons the masked adventurer counter atta-

"Hmm, what underhanded tricks did you perform you vile being."

He felt something was wrong…his body felt light and unbalanced.

"I would love to drag out this fight since it's not every day you fight with an Arb elf but am working on borrowed time."

Azel said with a subtle smile on his face.

There was a twisted sense of pleasure in Azel's actions. The Arb elf represented everything he despised about his former life—rules, honour, restraint, naivety.

 He relished in the irony of the situation.

 How many times had he been called a demon, a monster? Now, he would show them just how right they were. He felt no remorse, no pity. Only a cold, burning resolve.

The Arb just kept on staring at Azel tongue-tied, he was very much confused about what was going on.

He was shocked by the fact that the voice was coming from behind and the attacker in front of him vanished, he was shocked again by how the attacker knew he was an Arb elf.

"I guess this belongs to you."

Azel said whilst waving his hands towards him.

The confused Arb elf looked to his sides and finally noticed what was missing.

His arms were gone ripped apart from their very roots.

His eyes rolled back in pain but the agony kept him conscious.

"ARGHHHHH!!!!!"

He screamed at the top of his lungs, his knees buckled and his insides convulsed due to the pain.

His eyes were bloodshot and his gaze towards Azel was nothing but rage and hatred.

"Would you look at that my first fan, don't worry I give you, my signature."

Azel joked with the elf's arms still in his hands.

He moved closer to the arb elf and bent down to be at the same eye level with him.

"I am going to ask you a few questions but am very sure you won't answer me."

The arb elf in morbid fan mouthed a few words of response.

"On that matter, you are correct cause I would rather embrace the darkness than divulge anything to you vile demon born."

"Wouldn't say I did not expect that."

He got up on his feet and went to the shelf hanging off the wall.

"You know for a useless human you sure do have a lot of daggers."

He said while scanning through the shelf.

"This will do."

He quietly muttered to himself.

He picked a sleek silver dagger, the dagger was thin and it looked very sharp, with the edges feeling perfectly optimized for a smooth cut.

"Now, am going to be busy for the next few minutes so it will do you all the good in this world if you don't run, or do anything."

The stout man looked at the Arb elf on the floor then Azel and nodded his head furiously.

"Good, now you."

The Arb elf seeing the dagger in Azel's hands scowled defiantly.

"My flesh has been scarred by the keenest of blades since my youth; your paltry dagger shall inflict no pain on me."

"True, very true but I humbly ask."

Azel paused and proceeded to heat the dagger with his abilities.

"Have you ever been skinned by a hot scalding blade?"

He asked with a wild grin on his face.

"I guess not."

Azel moved closer to the Arb elf, he grabbed his face and placed the dagger close to it.

He leaned closer to the elf, placing his mouth at his ear, he whispered;

"Try not to scream, oh noble Arb elf."

He placed the dagger on his back and began the session.

The arb elf feeling the hot dagger on his back screamed in pain, his screams echoed throughout the room and his mind was in disarray.

He wished it was just that, he prayed to the celestials for his pain to end but, alas it was just beginning, his screams were just starting and his agony was just about to begin.

The screams were music to Azel's ears. Once, he might have been horrified by such thoughts, but now they were a testament to his new reality.

There was no room for hesitation or mercy. Each scream, each plea for mercy, only solidified his resolve. He was beyond redemption, beyond the simple moral codes of lesser beings. In this moment, he was power incarnate, and it felt exhilarating.

...

The stout man scurried away, his body was shivering in fear, he dared not meet Azel's gaze for he felt like he was going to perish if he did.

His embroidered and elegant trousers were soaked with urine, a testament to his fear. A few feet away, a puddle of suspicious yellow-grey liquid, likely vomit, marred the pristine floor.

His gaze settled on the demon and his handiwork.

The demon carried a bright and sunny smile like he didn't just commit an atrocity, he was cleaning his hands whilst admiring his work, his creation and the source of the stout nightmare.

Right behind Azel was a puddle of flesh scarred beyond all understatement, laying beside the puddle were teeth, nails and various body parts, the most common was the perfectly chopped skin on the ground.

The skins were calved out in such a precise and methodical.

"Ki….lll me…I beg…o…ou."

A low and raspy voice pleaded.

Azel looked at the pile of flesh impassively and decided to spare him of his misery.

He summoned a fireball and threw it on the pound of flesh erasing it from existence.

As the flames consumed the remains, Azel felt a fleeting pang of something—regret, perhaps? No, not regret. Satisfaction. He had embraced his destiny and severed the last threads of his former self.

There was no turning back now. Every action, every life taken, was a step closer to his ultimate goal. Whatever that might be, he would face it without fear, without hesitation.