The Fallen!

Azrael raised his arms and the seductress fell chills creeping all over her body. She quickly turned around and was about to summon her magic but the mortal body was too damaged to do anything and the bottle hit her, straight in her forehead, and shattered into millions of pieces.

The water in it, the mixture of holy water and flammable substances, rushed inside her body, entering through the open wounds.

The Seductress shrieked, her form contorting as she came in contact with the liquid. She raised her arm, summoning her dark powers to strike back, but the holy water, the water of purity, was too much for her. It burnt her skin, charred her flesh and the light from the holy water radiated with an unearthly glow.

At that moment, Marcus raised his hand and his voice resonated with power and authority. He uttered a spell, his words infused with ancient incantations. "Ignis!" he called out, his voice commanding the very essence of fire. A ball of flames shot forth, slamming into the Seductress's chest.

The Witch screamed, her shrill cry echoing through the forest as her body was consumed by the infernal fires intensified by the flammable substance. Her skin blistered and crackled, her very form charring under the heat. Azrael could feel the heat of the flames on his skin, a burning sensation that felt both familiar and foreign.

"This is not the end..." She screamed, her sound tinged with an eerie, distorted quality. "I will not die! I shall return! And I will make you mine, child. Remember my name for I am the enchantress of the realm, I am the seductress of souls, Lilith!"

But as the flames engulfed her, her voice changed and was replaced with a wailing of a...normal human. She screamed, her voice filled with pain and agony. And then, the flames subsided, revealing nothing but a blackened spot on the ground where the Seductress had stood.

"It's done." Marcus sighed, leaning against the tree and closing his eyes. "She's gone."

"Gone?" Azrael asked, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and awe. "What do you mean? Even I can tell the Seductress left the woman in the final moments. Doesn't that mean she's alive?"

Marcus took some heavy breaths before answering him. "That is true, but she's wounded. That's enough. She won't bother this world for the foreseeable future." He slid down, clutching his right hand. The hand from which he just summoned the fireball. He coughed throatily.

Azrael walked towards him and crouched down, looking at the man with pity.

'He isn't supposed to be a witch hunter. Poor sod can't even summon a fireball without breaking him.' Azrael understood what Marcus had said in mid-fight about proving his dad wrong. It appears the dad was right.

The fallen Witch Hunter saw the look of pity in the boy's eyes. "Save your pity for another one, boy. I'm not dying today. I need to see Pops first. Just give me a hand and help me towards the witch's shed. There might be herbs I can use." He pressed his chest where the witch had planted a kick.

Marcus looked at the boy, who was looking at him with a complicated gaze. "Boy...?" He felt something was amiss. His heartbeat increased.

"You know, when I returned, I vowed to take revenge on everyone who betrayed me. The whole Legion. My best friends and, of course, obviously, my wife too..." There was no boy in him, there was only the flesh of him but the eyes... they told another story. A distant one.

"What are ya---"

"Then I saw him again and I couldn't do anything. I could've tackled him and plunged my knife through his throat and could've been over with it, but I didn't. I couldn't. I simply froze in place. That doesn't mean I'm weak. That doesn't mean I will forgive them, just like I don't forgive you for betraying my trust."

Marcus could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, could feel the blood rush from his face.

"I am not weak, Marcus. I simply am not." He shook his head and chuckled. "I don't want to end my revenge by killing them. That is an easy way. I want them to feel despair. Feel agony. Feel everything I felt at that moment. I will make them suffer. I will make them writhe in pain. They will wish they had never lived."

"Az-Azrael...look at me. Look at me," Marcus stammered. Cold sweat trickled down from his forehead. "Don't do this. Listen to me."

The young boy, or rather, the monster inside the boy, smiled. "Why? We were supposed to be allies. You were my partner. What made you think my life is lesser and is of use to you?"

"I-I..." He didn't have any words left of him. He had betrayed the boy. For his selfishness and pride, he had turned on the boy. He was willing to sacrifice the boy for the glory of proving his father wrong.

What a fool he was! His father was right. He wasn't fit to be a Witch Hunter. "I don't have any words for ya. I'm sorry." He tried to reach out to the boy, but Azrael took a step back and raised his hand, stopping the man.

"That's all right, Marcus. No need to say anything else." He leaned in again. "I'm not going to kill you. After all, you just saved my life. How could I betray you like you betrayed me." He shook his head.

Marcus released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. It was such a relief. He was so grateful, so happy that he could even cry. "Thank you."

"I'm not doing it for you," Azrael stated, his eyes cold and piercing as he stared at the fallen Witch Hunter. "I'm doing it for myself."

"Revenge won't get you far," the fallen spoke. "You might think taking revenge on the ones who betrayed you will be the best feeling in the world, but you'll come to realize revenge is empty. It won't fill the void inside you.

"My old man always said people whose entire life is based on revenge won't reach far. They are blind. Blinded by their own bloodlust. Don't follow that path, bo- Azrael. It is not for you." He side-eyed the boy, who was listening intently.

Azrael stood up, and Marcus flinched for a second. Despite his speech on revenge, he feared the boy. He had seen what powers the boy held. The way even an Infernal Princess wanted to possess him. Certainly, the boy had some hidden powers.

"If you really want to..." He started. "I could bring ya to my father and the old man can teach you how to be a Witch Hunter. He's a strong asshole and in his prime was said to be the best Witch Hunter this world had to offer."

"You would do that for me, Marcus?"

"Of course, of course. Consider it compensation for trying to use ya." He chuckled a throaty one.

Azrael extended his arm, and the Witch Hunter paused for a second before accepting the hand. "Thank you," he said his gratitude.

With an audible grunt, Azrael pulled the fallen to his legs, steadying him against the tree for support.

Marcus coughed again, and this time it felt like his whole body might burst. His insides seemed to be melting, and his arms and legs wouldn't do what his brain told them to. The pain was so bad he couldn't even think straight. He couldn't hear well, and his vision got all blurry.

He grabbed onto Azrael's shoulder to steady himself and took big breaths. "Something's really wrong," he managed to say, fear taking over. "I think she put a curse on me. That awful creature!"

Azrael just looked calm, like he didn't care at all. "Don't go blaming her, Marcus. Honestly, the one to blame is you. I mean, I wouldn't have given you that poison if you weren't so scared all the time."

Marcus was confused as ever. "What? What are you talking about?"

Azrael's voice stayed cool and collected. "The poison, Marcus," he said, with an eerie calmness. "The drink you had this morning, the one I gave you so nicely? Turns out it's been a nasty poison from the start."