Feeling quite lucky having acquired a good weapon along with some other rewards, Azrael then decided that it is about time for him to go back to the city, possibly sell off all the loots that he got from killing all sorts of monsters and creatures outside and possibly spend all those money to prepare himself for the unavoidable long trip that he must make if he wants to climb to higher floors of the tower.
Now kneeling in front of the canine monster whose life was just taken away by him, the young man starts skinning it and trying to get the most out of its pelt, which is clearly quite damaged from the fight the two of them had, but nevertheless a good loot in his book.
'Mosquito meat is still meat after all…' he said to himself with a smile on his face as if he is already used to doing things like this, his masterful handling of the canine monster's fur making sure that there is minimal if there is at all damage that is added as he removes it away from its body, the old sword in his hand working like a craftsman's prized knife, as if it is not beaten up and near ruin at all.
'Man, that was satisfying…' after finally taking off the entire pelt out of the monster, Azrael then wipe the sweat on his forehead with a satisfied smile appearing on his face, the massive creature being nothing but muscles making an eerie display in the surroundings as if it just encountered something so disastrous that its skin got torn off its own body in an extremely smooth and professional manner.
After taking care of the fur, the young man doesn't even spare the monster's fangs and claws, making sure that he harvested each and every single one of them to sell them later rather than keeping it for himself until he finds a craftsman that can forge them into a proper weapon, thinking that there's no way a growth-type weapon from the tower would be topped by any craftsman that he has a chance of contacting right now.
After taking all that he can from the canine monster, the young man then starts packing them up on his leather bag, hoping that it can all fit there, looking at the remains of the monster in pity as even its bone might be great materials if it were to be sold in the city, but there's just no way for him to carry it all the way back to the city.
'Unless…' having an absurd thought in his mind, Azrael then reveals a brilliant, amused smile on his face as if he just thought of something way too interesting, making him look at the new sword in his hand as he speaks to it as if he is talking to a good friend.
"Looks like you will be baptized quite earlier than expected" he said with a smile on his face, his words seemingly completely understood by the weapon as it once again oscillates excitedly in his hand, the intense emotion of clear thirst for blood being conveyed to him as if there's a connection established between the two of them, making him more and more expectant of what this sword is capable of.
Feeling the obvious joy as he said those words, Azrael shakes his head as he felt like this sword is truly one hell of a troublemaker, the clear desire for battle and blood being conveyed to him making him aware that this weapon is anything but a peaceful one, and yet, he doesn't really care about that, for he thinks that this kind of weapon suits him more than weapons of virtues that are often being coveted by everyone in the tower.
Now kneeling in front of the giant canine monster once again, the young man doesn't even feel a single trace of disgust as he plants his hand on its still warm, damp flesh with fresh blood flowing out of it, the iron-filled stench of blood spreading from the carcass all the way to his body which is already drenched in its remains, his face unbothered as he carries the massive corpse all by his lonesome, humming a joyful tune as he treads the path back to the city in the second floor of the tower.
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As wind blew in the cold of the night, warm blood splashes through the green, grassy path, a clean, black arc of what seems to be light taking lives every time it appears and disappear, as if a phantom or a reaper appears in the battlefield with the sole purpose of reaping lives, and yet, as if they are moths being attracted to the flame, creatures continues to rush towards the direction of this black arc of light, almost as if something there is so good, so beneficial to them that the risk of losing their lives is more than worth it if in exchange they can acquire whatever it is that is pulling them there.
"I told you, you would get baptized quite early, and a fairly good baptism at that…" swinging at the approaching creature once again, a figure said with a tinge of glee in his tone, almost as if he's talking to someone, someone who is not there as the only thing near him is a canine monster's carcass being carried by all his lonesome, and a jet-black single-edged sword drenched in blood in his hand, the blood staining the weapon seemingly seeping towards it rather than dripping down to the ground.
With his words, the weapon in his hand couldn't help but release its emotion once again, one that is filled with excitement and gratitude as if it felt like it is doing what it is really supposed to do, reaping lives of its master's enemy, and taking away their strength to nourish both its master and itself.
A nourishment that this figure just realizes this new weapon of his is capable of, as the guide's screen appears in front of him once again.