Azraël thought it was the end.
The dragon had swallowed his father in an intense blue light. The entire capital had seen it. Even the Ogre could not resist that.
And even if he had survived the dragon, it was impossible for him to survive the fall. It was rather cowardly to finish him like that, but there was no other way. His father was too powerful. To such an extent that his magic was almost useless against him. He had to end it quickly anyway, so there was no question of dragging things out.
Azraël stared at the dark sky. In its midst, his father was falling like a powerless meteor, on his back, smoking, completely scorched by lightning. He was not moving. Not the slightest sign of movement. And yet, he was still holding Man-Eater firmly, as if even his corpse refused to let go.
Azraël stayed there too, without moving. His gaze fixed on his father. A dark gaze whose true emotions no one could read.
Like a leader, like a bearer of change, Azraël did not lower his arms before his own family. So seeing his father fall like that should, in a way, reassure him.
Reassure him… as much as possible.
One obstacle less in his search for change…
Cold and straight, Azraël slowly turned around without looking back. He walked forward with a determined step, without caring about what was happening behind him.
Yet, he should have stayed attentive and made sure the ogre was truly dead…
Suddenly, Azraël was struck by a sharp pain in his head. An intrusive image forced its way into his mind. Something powerful was pressing against his brain.
Azraël did not move, clenching his teeth, but the image became clearer and clearer, increasing the pain. A thin, dull ringing began to buzz in his ear, and he finally managed to clearly see the aura appearing in his mind.
For a fraction of a second, Azraël froze. A massive aura was pressing on him, making him feel as if he were carrying a hundred elephants.
Fear… it was one of the only times in his life he truly felt fear.
The image in his mind was that of a warrior. A warrior he had never seen, yet knew all too well.
The image of an entity that should not be there…
"No…"
And the source of that aura was none other than his own father.
"NO!!"
Azraël turned around in terror to see his father falling. His father, who had become his greatest source of stress.
Reno was falling with a smile on his lips. The capital watched the fall of one of the most powerful men in the history of this nation. Like a symbol collapsing under the blows of the enemy. Reno was a great man in Nozras. One of the only ones to have borne the status of king in this nation of fearless warriors. He was the reincarnated strength of Nozras, and his mere presence changed the mood of warriors.
Seeing him fall that day like a star was not a sign of hope, but of mourning. Even within their souls of blood and battle, the people of Nozras knew how to recognize a king worthy of respect.
Admired by some, hated by others, his story had started quests and ended others. He and his wife had ruled over a ruined country.
Reno Gazor… the Ogre of Nozras… was falling… like the end of an era for this land…
However, Reno had not said his last word.
When Azraël thought it was impossible, Reno straightened himself in midair and, despite the friction, remained perfectly upright.
He landed like a rocket on the ground, and the impact sent a terrible shockwave through the entire city.
Azraël prayed it was not true. That he had died with dignity in his fall. He watched the dust and debris clear so slowly that he almost went mad. He had to see it. He had to see that his father was gone.
But after a moment, he saw him…
The man standing, blade in hand.
He had survived.
Azraël was seized by terror again.
"Damn."
On his side, Reno had awakened from his murderous frenzy. In truth, his legs hurt horribly because of the fall. He quickly understood that he could not win this fight because of the multitude of spells his son possessed.
In fact, he had understood it from the beginning…
He raised his head toward his son, looking at him sadly.
Azraël was terrified of what his father was. His face rejected what he saw.
Reno noticed. The frightened face of his son, ready to launch more spells, made him feel sick.
It was still his son. Even Azraüs, after many conflicts, had never looked at his father like that. No one had ever looked at him that way. And it should not have been his son.
Yet, he advanced slowly toward him.
"Don't come closer…"
Azraël's voice was weak, cracking as he still held out his hand toward the monster before him.
Azraël kept throwing lightning at his father, who walked calmly, enduring them one by one.
Some warriors who had gathered around watched the Ogre of Nozras advance like a man, like a warrior, toward the traitor of the nation. All of them supported him inwardly.
All had chosen the Ogre's side, not that of the supposed savior. Even though they knew they would have to fight each other again later, they also knew that only Reno could put an end to the traitor.
So for the first time in their lives, they supported someone other than themselves. Looking beyond their own pride and well-being, beyond battles of blood and rage, beyond screams and the throne…
They recognized the legitimacy of the one who had once sat on the throne. A man who had the shoulders to become the strongest… the king.
"Don't come closer…"
Yet Azraël did not see the same thing. Azraël saw a monster who had been his father for a time. He saw a simple human being fall from the sky and survive without even knowing what aura was. He saw something unimaginable chasing him and his dream of peace. And that thing was his father…
Azraël feared his father, and he clearly saw that the lightning had no effect on him. He stepped back unconsciously, his hand still outstretched…
But Reno reached him.
Azraël looked up at his father.
A gaze where everything overlapped, like layers of light and shadow fighting for the same space.
There was fear first—that instinctive, animal fear that tightens the throat and makes breathing tremble. A fear that knows the body has no escape left.
But right behind it, almost glued to it, was acceptance.A strange gentleness. As if, by understanding that everything ended here, he had finally stopped struggling against the weight of the world.
His eyes shone with a deep sadness, the kind that no longer cries because it has already cried too much. A sadness that recognizes what it is about to lose, what it will no longer see, what it leaves behind.
And yet…There was also a fragile calm, an unexpected peace, like a final breath resting on the soul. The kind of peace that only exists when there is nothing left to defend.
The contradiction was visible in every reflection of his pupils:the fear of disappearing and the relief of no longer having to continue.
A gaze that, in a single instant, confessed everything he had never said.
And facing his father who was about to end him, that gaze was neither a plea nor a reproach.
Azraël knew.
Azraël knew what was going to happen. He carried within him the weight of a quest too heavy for a human being.
He closed his eyes, thinking it was the end. But instead, he felt a hard, long arm wrap around him.
Then Reno whispered in his ear,
"Thank you for preserving your old father's dignity until the end. Thank you for everything, Azraël. Your mother would have been proud of you too."
Azraël opened his eyes and looked at the state of his father.
His bones were crushed and his organs pierced. Even though he had survived the fall, his body could no longer hold itself. As a warrior, he had walked all the way here to give his son a hug, then die in his arms.
He was already dead. Up there in the sky, the Ogre had already taken his last breath. He had only walked toward his son who was pushing him away, to hold him one last time…
Azraël felt his heart stop.
"You…"
But he could not say another word, except…
"I love you, Dad."
He hugged his father too, holding him for a long time, as tightly as he could.
But Reno no longer answered. He no longer moved. The Ogre's soul had already departed.
Azraël stood up, his face dark, then lifted his father. He walked in front of everyone toward the throne with the body of the great warrior.
The warriors gathered around, like a small curious crowd. Their gazes wavered between confusion and sadness. But no one said anything.
This time, they did not even try to attack. No one raised a finger against Azraël. Everyone simply gathered around him, the chief of the Rosia clan, looking at Reno's lifeless body.
A legend had died. They were fully aware of it.
Azraël walked slowly, carrying his poor father's body to the throne. Climbing the steps again, one by one, his face closed. Nothing else mattered anymore, because what he carried in his arms was heavier than his own quest.
Then he gently laid him down against the side of the throne, along with a tear he could no longer hold back.
Yet, Reno was smiling, as if Rita were standing beside him.
"Did I really do it, Rita?"
"Yes, you won."