Nathanaël watched Azraüs devour what was left of the bird he had caught mid-flight. The young warrior had built a fire and simply tossed the bird into it. After a while, realizing that half of it had already burned away, he hastily pulled it out—yet that didn't stop him from eating it.
He had even offered Nathanaël some, but Nathanaël politely refused.
"How is that even possible…?"
Nathanaël couldn't understand how such simplicity could exist.
But Azraüs was far too focused on his meal to care about the stranger's confusion.
"I still don't understand a word you're saying, foreigner. So stop talking. Especially when I'm eating."
"Okay."
Azraüs continued to eat the completely charred bird while Nathanaël wondered why he had ever decided to follow him.
Yet, the young warrior didn't seem to lose energy—in fact, he looked even more enthusiastic. He lifted the bird's blackened head to peer into the distance, his eyes shining like stars, and pointed in a direction.
"We're almost there. Two good days, and we should reach the hills."
Nathanaël didn't understand a single word. But watching Azraüs eat like that made him not want to.
"We'll sleep here tonight," Azraüs continued, stretching his arms. "I hope you remembered the words I taught you during the trip. If not, they might kill you out there."
However, Nathanaël did catch one word "kill."That one wasn't hard. He'd heard it more than enough times since the start of the day.
Azraüs swallowed the rest of the burnt bird and turned toward Nathanaël, his mouth still full.
"All right, let's go over it. My name is…"
Nathanaël didn't like his tone. It made him sound like a child, and that irritated him. If he could, he would've unleashed his aura just to remind Azraüs of his place. But he doubted the warrior would even see it.
So instead, he sighed and played along.
"Azraüs."
"Very good."
"I am a…"
"Warrior."
"And not just any warrior."
"The greatest warrior of all time."
"That's right."
Nathanaël quickly memorized the few words Azraüs had taught him—and just as quickly learned how arrogant the man was.
Even if it might have been true, such arrogance made him unworthy of both his strength and his title.
"My weapon is a…"
"Club."
"Yeah."
The Norde was nothing like Zvenne. Not even close.The language spoken in Garida was similar to Zvenne's, but the North and the southern lands were completely different.The cultures, too, were worlds apart.
Nathanaël realized that quickly. Nevertheless, it was not insurmountable. It should actually be an obligation. If he wanted to have it, he had to at least learn to speak Norde.
"That's a…"
"Tree."
"And that's a…"
"Bird."
Even if it made him look like a child in front of Azraüs—who seemed delighted to have someone to teach.
"And this? What's this?"
"Muscles."
"Of course, my dear Nathy!"
Somehow, Azraüs had taken to shortening his name in the most ridiculous way possible. And Nathanaël did not find it amusing.
"My name is Nathanaël," he said sharply. "You can at least say Nath. My friends call me that."
"No, no, no. I'll call you whatever I want. And for me, you'll be Nathy."
Over time, Azraüs had learned a little about Nathanaël. He'd picked up his name, but finding it too long, decided to shorten it immediately.
Azraüs lay down on the ground, hands behind his head, staring up at the stars.
"You know, Nathy… soon they'll call me Obu, too. And I'll be the strongest man in the world. No one will ever be my equal. When that day comes…"
His eyelids grew heavy. His voice faded into a whisper.
"I'll have avenged Azra."
Nathanaël watched the young warrior fall asleep. It must have been their fifth or sixth night together by now—he was used to it.
He took his bag, which carried only the bare essentials, and pulled out a sleeping bag. Azraüs had once questioned why the stranger needed something so "soft," but Nathanaël had simply ignored him—both because he didn't understand, and because he was sure it was nonsense anyway.
"Well then," he muttered quietly. "Didn't think things would start like this. Still, I've found myself an incompetent guide who catches cadillacs with his bare hands and eats them burnt. He'll do for now… but I'm not looking forward to what comes next. I should probably review my Norde before morning."
Nathanaël slowly drifted to sleep, repeating the few Norde words he had learned that day under his breath.
**
"Omrir… Omrir. Why do you close your eyes to what is happening?"
**
Nathanaël woke with a jolt, as if something had violently pulled him out of his sleep. A heavy, crawling sense of dread gripped his chest.
He sat up, breathing hard—only to notice that Azraüs was awake as well.
He wanted to ask the young warrior what was going on.
"Azra—"
But he froze mid-word.
Azraüs's eyes told him everything. They were cold, fixed on something in the darkness. His expression was calm, yet filled with a predatory stillness that sent chills down Nathanaël's spine. It was the first time he'd seen him like this—completely serious, a shadow of bloodlust quietly emanating from him.
Anyone sane would have backed away. And yet… someone was foolish enough to try their luck.
The sun had yet to rise. The fire had burned out, leaving them surrounded by a pale, heavy darkness. It made Azraüs's presence even more terrifying, his figure outlined like that of a beast waiting to strike.
And then, Azraüs murmured :
"Careful, Nathy. We've got company."
Nathanaël remembered where he had set foot. The nation of chaos: Nozras. And it had been far too long since he had wandered around peacefully without having this feeling. This feeling of eternal war where peace was dead.
And just like that, his fragile peace shattered.
At great speed, an arrow pierced through the air, straight towards Azraüs, who was still standing.
"Azraüs!"
Nathanaël leaped toward him, trying to knock him out of harm's way—but the warrior didn't move an inch until the last possible second.
Then, with a subtle tilt of his head, the arrow sliced past him harmlessly.
"What the—"
Nathanaël couldn't believe it. Was it really possible for a human who didn't know about auras to make such movements? Everything had happened too quickly. And an arrow remained an arrow. No matter the distance, it was normally impossible to dodge it in time, even for a warrior like him.
"Nathy. Hide as best you can."
The warrior was inviting him to step back.
However, it was a great disrespect to think that he could not defend himself.
"I'll be fine," he said quietly, rising to his feet and turning in the opposite direction."I can defend myself."
One of the few things he had learned to do since returning from the other world and understanding his aura was to be able to summon his sword wherever he was.
It would appear and disappear near his hand whenever he wanted. It was his little accomplishment.
Every time the sword responded, a small light would flash near his hand, and the sword would appear instantly as if by magic. He didn't know if it was related to his 'power,' but the usefulness was truly impressive.
Azraüs glanced over his shoulder, seeing the sword materialize in Nathanaël's hand.
A faint grin tugged at the corner of his lips before he turned back toward the darkness.
"How many?" Nathanaël asked.
"Don't know. Just woke up like you. But from what I've seen—at least seven."
"Great. How many on my side?"
"Three."
"Then I'll take them."
Azraüs blinked.
Azraüs was surprised by Nathanaël's combativeness. At first, he had thought that the young man was not at all the type to fight. He even believed that he was a coward.
But something in him, however, suggested the opposite. It was as if he could take down anyone and that this kind side was just a facade to hide his power.
Azraüs was a warrior, so he knew how to recognize that in anyone. It was more experience than a gift. But he also knew how to spot other things—other things that could prove troublesome.
"All of this is very touching, Nathy, but..."
Azraüs ducked to avoid a second arrow, then propelled himself straight forward onto his feet. He had spotted the shooter and was heading straight for him. But he still had something to say. Something that froze Nathanaël for a moment.
"Are you ready to kill?"
Azraüs tore through the shadows and into the forest.A second arrow came, faster than before—he caught it on his club and deflected it.
The archer hidden in the trees realized he'd found her and gave a sharp whistle, signaling the others.
However, during the brief moment when he had looked away from Azraüs, he had already arrived in front of him. He jumped to reach the level of the shooter who was perched on a tree branch, and the two of them stared at each other.
"Too bad, normally, I don't kill women."
When hope seemed lost for the shooter, Azraüs took a magnificent punch to the left cheek from another warrior. He landed a few meters further on.
"Celena! Your bow!"
"Got it!"
The woman reloaded, pulling three arrows from her quiver and firing them in rapid succession.
But Azraüs had already vanished from sight.
"Where is he?"
"Ten o'clock!"
Both turned—and saw Azraüs, clashing his mace against another warrior's weapon.
"Roane!"
"Celena! Shoot!"
Three more arrows flew towards Azraüs and the warrior in a instant.
Normally, it was a lost cause for anyone, but Azraüs was resourceful. Although the warrior tried to dodge the arrows from his partner, Azraüs violently grabbed his head and placed his body directly in their path.
"ROANE!"
No matter how much they screamed, they had already lost one of their own. .The arrows struck clean through him. One less enemy. Three well-placed shots—none wasted.
"Mariqua!"
"I know!"
Azraüs got rid of the pierced body by violently throwing it to the ground and walked towards her. At the same moment, another warrior appeared behind him and tried to strike him with a club.
"Die, bastard!"
Azraüs caught the weapon without turning around—then swung the man himself like a projectile, hurling him at the woman.
The archer fired again, but he dodged behind the trees with frightening speed.
"Damn it! Where is he?!"
Her voice trembled. Her body shook. Her legs were beginning to lose strength. Her teeth chattered like glass.They were three against one—but somehow, they felt like prey.
"This was a bad idea. I told you it was a bad idea! That guy's at least clan-chief level! We should've never—"
"CELENA!"
But her comrade's scream came too late.
The shooter received an arrow in the eyes before she could even react. Azraüs had grabbed one to hurl it back at the one who was supposed to shoot at them.
"One down. Two to go."
The two remaining warriors were gathered in the middle of the trees. It was impossible for them to know where Azraüs was. He moved quickly around them, constantly changing his position. The shadows hid him in their embrace, and the imposing trees concealed his fury behind their wood.
It was they who were trapped.
The forest itself seemed to hold its breath.
In the silence, one of them whispered.
"Where's the rest of the team?"
"There were two of them, Mariqua. We underestimated both."
And before the words had even finished leaving her lips,Azraüs appeared like a spirit.
Mariqua was the first to react, raising her weapon for a strike.She didn't realize it would be her last.
The second warrior turned just in time to see her body collapse—and the last thing he saw after that....was Azraüs's club...