The delivery man!
The soldier holding the torch stepped forward, his eyes scanning the crowd. The crackling sound of the fire echoed throughout the town square, causing some to flinch.
"Today, we rid ourselves of evil!" he declared, his voice loud and clear. "This witch has caused nothing but pain and destruction to our town for too long. Her reign of terror ends now!"
The crowd cheered, some even stomping their feet in excitement. The witch stood bound to a stake, her eyes closed in resignation.
"This witch has been accused of using dark magic to bring harm to our people," the soldier continued, raising the torch high above his head. "She has been found guilty by a court of her peers, and her punishment is just."
The witch opened her eyes, looking up at the soldier. She had been accused of crimes she didn't commit, but she knew there was no point in trying to plead her innocence. The townspeople had already made up their minds.
"May this fire cleanse her soul and bring peace to our town," the soldier declared before bringing the torch down to ignite the wood at the base of the stake.
The flames quickly spread, engulfing the wood and rising up around the witch. She cried out in pain, but her voice was soon drowned out by the cheering of the crowd.
The soldier watched the flames dance around the stake, feeling a sense of satisfaction. He had done his duty to protect the town from evil, and he had succeeded. The witch's reign of terror was finally over.
Azrael watched the scene with a wicked smile on his face.
Witch hunting!
It was an old and odd profession that is chosen by the outcasts and the orphan ones who do not have anything to lose. Those who couldn't find work elsewhere usually ended up as witch hunters. Their job consisted of finding witches and killing them. If they failed to catch them alive, they would burn them instead.
The damned and cursed souls were often thrown into dungeons or caves within the forest to rot away. Sometimes they were killed in front of the villagers, sometimes tortured until death.
Magicians deal with the matters of the other magical beings, soldiers defend and police, and witch hunters hunt witches.
Witches, who's said to be cursed and controlled by the beings outside of this world. Due to the nature of the job, where hunters can end up dead or cursed for life, or worse, most of these practitioners tend to be solitary creatures.
Those who seek employment as a hunter must first undergo training under experienced individuals. In exchange for their knowledge, trainers demand a fee, of course.
If a person wishes to become a witch hunter after having undergone proper training, then he or she may work alone without any help or support from the guilds, as no guild wants someone who associates and fights with cursed and damned creatures.
Even though, they're feared and hated across the world, there is this basic respect that comes along with the job title.
Often times, due to their solitary life and strange ways, they were never happened to see on any political events happening in the kingdoms like mages, knights or heroes. They also rarely appeared during wars between countries. Most of them prefer to stay hidden while others hide behind masks when necessary.
They get good commissions from the kingdom for their work, and that was enough for creatures like them.
In his previous life, he only had managed to meet one of these kind of people. A certain man named Thrawn, who lived on the mountains. He was an old man with a life full of experience.
Azrael decided then and there that he's going to become a Witch Hunter rather than a mage or a knight like in his previous life.
Due to their dark and cursed nature, nobody would bother to monitor him, and that was a plus point.
The wooden cross collapsed in seconds, leaving the witch burnt and lifeless upon the ground.
***
He bought a good room for eight coppers.
The conversion of money was simple here- hundred copper is equal to one silver. Likewise, hundred silver is equal to one gold.
Gold being the highest currency used in this realm, silver being next, and then copper.
He looked at his reflection in the wooden water tub.
"Is this how I looked like?"
It was the first time he was getting conscious about his looks. At this age- on the original timeline- the young Azrael would've made some makeover to appeal to young ladies.
His long black hair fell freely past his shoulders. His crimson eyes were sharp, yet dull. Though his features weren't ugly or beautiful either, they looked fine.
Twenty years old, that was his age.
"I should meet him," He said, clenching his fist. "Thrawn can help me. That is what my next destination is!."
There were still a lot of things that he needs to learn. Magic, swordplay, stealth, archery…
He quickly finished his bath and ordered a good plate of food with berries, breads, hot butter and honey.
At night, he heard a knock on his door.
"Mr. Azrael?" A large bulky man asked, his voice was heavy and deep.
Azrael stood up and answered the door.
The man was wearing a white shirt tucked into a pair of blue pants. On his back was strapped a longsword and a dagger.
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you so late in the night," the man bowed deeply. "My name is Darryl, I am here to deliver your good from Ms. Bertram."
"Ahh! Thank you very much," Azrael replied. "Please come in."
Darryl entered the room, carrying a big brown paper bag. He placed the bag on the table and removed the top part. Inside was a finely stitched clothing, black and white, neatly folded and wrapped in soft fabric.
"Thank you, Darryl." He said. "Tell Ms.Bertram her work is amazing."
"Oh yes sir, thank you again for choosing us." He replied with a bow and turned around.
Azrael took the shirt in his hand, feeling the texture and smell of it. It felt smooth and silky.
But suddenly he heard a whoosh sound behind him. With his instinct from previous life screaming, he lurched to the side just as the long blade came down on the bed, slicing through the mattress and cutting off a chunk of wood.
Before Azrael regained his stance, Darryl's foot perfectly connected with his mid section, sending him flying across the room.
He crashed hard onto the floor, gasping for air. Pain shot through his chest as he lay on the wooden floor.
He checked for his knife, but it was near the table Darryl was standing.
"Fuck!" He growled, wiping the blood flowing from his mouth he stood up.
Darryl was not a mage, he's just a large beast with raw strength and power.
He could use his speed for advantage until he grabs the knife on the table.
Without waiting, Darryl charged towards him. Raising his sword high above his head, he brought the weapon crashing down on Azrael's skull.
He evaded the attack like he did it for several years. He used the momentum and brought his legs high up, kicking the large beast where it could hurt; his balls.
As expected, Darryl dropped his sword and screamed in agony.
Azrael used the distraction to run to the other side of the room. Grabbing the knife in his hand, he lunged at the kneeling man. Plunging the knife through his back.
Daryll screamed again as Azrael twisted the knife in his hands, pulling it out and stabbing once more. Blood spurted everywhere, covering his face.
Then he pulled the knife and distanced himself, just as the big man turned around to grab him.
"You bastard! How dare you!" Daryll bellowed and ran towards him with rage and fury filling his eyes.
That was the moment when Azrael jumped side ways, making Darryl miss his target and slamming against the wall, cracking the drywall.
With that move, he lost balance and fell backwards, hitting the bed. Before Darryl could regain his footing, Azrael stabbed him thrice on his stomach and chest, pushing him further on the bed.
Darryl turned to stand up, Azrael spun around and attached himself to Daryl, grabbing his neck on his forearms. Then he brought his knife and drove it in to Darryl's throat, twisting it and tearing apart flesh and veins.
Blood poured out of his wound, splattering all over the place. Darryl gurgled in pain and tried to push him away, but it was useless.
Azrael let go of him, watching him bleed profusely.