The Codex's fire roared through Azazel's veins. His stance was sharp, his breath ragged but steady. Head hurt only from maintaining such state.
He lunged first—strikes quick as a storm, pistols drawn but never fired, just bludgeons in his hands.
For a heartbeat, he thought he caught Aurelius off guard.
Then the Grand Master moved.
With one step, Aurelius slipped aside, catching Azazel's arm with impossible speed. A twist, a sweep of the phantom blade, and Azazel was on his knees. The boy spat blood, refusing to fall fully, surging back with another burst. His style was relentless, reckless—total domination.
It lasted less than two minutes.
With a final motion, Aurelius struck him down, pressing the edge of light to his throat.
"You fight," Aurelius said quietly, "like Johann."
Azazel froze.
"Raw. Brilliant. But predictable. Anyone who ever crossed blades with your grandfather would know you are his blood. And you must hide it. Learn another rhythm. Another face. Because among the Church, even among hunters, there are those who wanted Johann dead. If they could not defeat him in life, they will gladly carve vengeance on his grandson."
He tucked back his blade into nothingness.
Azazel's chest heaved.
The Oath thundered from Grandmaster's lips:
"Not for glory nor golden crown
We rise where light and faith break down.
Steel in hand. Fire in soul.
We strike where angels fear to go.
No heaven guides me. No hell can bind.
Not for mercy. Not for might…"
Azazel froze, he knew these familiar words. Too well.
The dimension shuddered. Cracks spidered across the vaulted sky.
We ask no thanks. We leave no name.
Our legacy: eternal flame.
One creed we hold, from then to now—
To hunt the dark. This is our vow."
Light poured in. The air twisted, folded—then collapsed.
Azazel blinked. They were no longer in Aurelius's hidden space, but standing within the Codex's dimension. The stone arches burned with symbols, alive with memory.
And there, from the other side of the chamber, stepped Johann Weyer.
He smiled as if he had been waiting.
"Aurelius."
The Grand Master's severe expression softened.
He let out a short laugh.
"Johann."