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MillionNovel > Azrael and the Gate of Madness > chapter 14 Friend?

chapter 14 Friend?

    His breath caught as the realization hit him like a blow. ?Coincidence? No, it can’t be a coincidence. I think I know now who it was. Who killed my parents.“ The hatred rising within him was so intense that his fingers unconsciously curled into a fist, his knuckles turning white. ?I WANT TO KILL THEM. I MUST KILL THEM. I WILL KILL THEM.“


    Abruptly, he turned around, the urge within him too strong to resist. His muscles tensed, his thoughts consumed by a single goal: to find them. To tear them apart. To mutilate them as they had done to his parents.


    Azrael’s breath came in shallow gasps as he fixed his gaze on Bartho, a look that could erupt into violence at any moment. The hatred gripped him so completely that the blacksmith’s voice reached his ears as little more than a muffled echo through the dense fog of his fury.


    ?Well, did you find what you were looking for?“ Bartho’s voice was calm, without a trace of fear, yet his words cut through Azrael’s turmoil like a sharp blade. It was as if the blacksmith had peered into the storm raging within his mind.


    Azrael froze mid-step, his movements halting. Slowly, he turned to Bartho. ?Is he trying to stop me? Could he be one of them?“ Suspicion struck him like lightning as he scrutinized the man before him. His mind, paralyzed by hatred, refused to think clearly. Yet Bartho, unfazed by Azrael’s dark glare, stood firm, unmoving.


    ?What happened?“ Bartho asked seriously, his eyes steady on Azrael.


    Slowly, a flicker of clarity returned to Azrael’s thoughts. The words began to form in his mind, and with them came the bitter reality: ?THEY. THEY killed my parents.“ His voice trembled with barely restrained anger.


    ?Who?“ Bartho remained calm, unshaken.


    Azrael let out a hollow laugh, a bitter, empty sound. ?Who else? Of course, it was my dear relatives.“ His hands trembled with tension, his fingers curling as if to strangle an invisible foe. ?I’ll massacre them. They’ll suffer, and then…“


    Before he could finish the sentence, Bartho cut him off sharply, his voice direct. ?Can you kill them?“


    The question hit Azrael like a slap across the face. For a moment, he fell silent, the words hanging in the air, sharp and inescapable. ?Are you capable of killing them?“


    Azrael remained quiet, the anger in his chest giving way to a gnawing sense of helplessness. Bartho was right. ?I’m too weak.“ The bitter truth clawed at him. ?In my current state, I couldn’t even take down that bitch.“


    Bartho nodded, his gaze serious, his voice steady. ?Here’s my offer. Forget the bellows. Focus entirely on your training.“ He crossed his arms over his chest and continued, ?When you can draw the bowstring, you’ll be ready. A shot from the shadows could even take Bard out.“


    Azrael stood motionless as the words sank in. The wave of hatred that had overwhelmed his mind began to cool. Bartho spoke the truth. At this moment, he was too weak. No matter how much he wanted to hear their screams or see them suffer—it wouldn’t change anything if he acted now. The bitter realization that he needed to gain the strength first settled deeply within him.


    Finally, he managed to wrest control over his thoughts, suppressing the hatred, if only slightly. A colder expression settled over his face as he looked at Bartho. ?Agreed,“ he said firmly. ?Once they’re dead, I’ll work full-time in your forge.“


    Bartho chuckled softly and nodded once more. ?So be it.“


    <hr>


    Lyren leaned against the cool wall of a nearby building, his eyes fixed on the white-haired boy standing before the gallows. Even from a distance, he could sense the unbridled fury burning in Azrael’s gaze.


    ?So, that’s him,“ Lyren thought. ?The anomaly must be connected to him somehow. But how? Could he be the cause? Unlikely.“


    Since Amandine''s attack, Lyren had been tracking the traces she left behind, which eventually led him to Azrael. The boy had narrowly escaped that day, and that was reason enough for Lyren to observe him closely. Yet, what puzzled him most was the strange behavior of the people around Azrael. It was as though the town''s residents were reacting unnaturally to the boy. Some even died, like the figures Lyren had seen sprawled lifelessly in front of the forge, their limbs glinting with a faint blue sheen.


    ?It borders on madness,“ Lyren mused. ?Is he merely a victim of the anomaly, or is there more to him? And what did he find here that enraged him so much?“


    Lyren debated whether he should approach the boy. The situation was escalating, and extreme circumstances sometimes called for drastic measures. After a moment’s hesitation, he sighed and pushed off the wall.


    ?Might as well,“ he muttered, striding toward Azrael.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    <hr>


    Out of the corner of his eye, Azrael noticed movement. Without making it obvious, he glanced in that direction. A dark-haired boy, only slightly older than himself, was approaching with light, measured steps. His clothes were worn and frayed, marked by the hardships of long journeys or battles. Two curved swords strapped to his back silently testified to the danger he carried with him.


    The boy''s cold, calculating gaze made the hairs on Azrael''s neck stand on end. A sudden unease spread through him. "He''s dangerous," Azrael thought immediately. "Maybe even more dangerous than Amandine. And once again, I have no weapons with me… Stupid idiot." His inner voice turned into a whisper of self-reproach as he prepared for the impending danger.


    To his dismay, the boy headed straight toward him. Azrael cast a quick glance at Bartho, who seemed utterly oblivious to the stranger. It was as if the newcomer existed in an entirely separate reality.


    Then the stranger spoke. His voice was calm, almost casual. "Nice weather, isn''t it?" Before Azrael could even form a reply, the boy added with a cool, almost mocking tone, "And what do you think of all the charming townsfolk here? How do you like that scent of madness in the air?"


    Azrael froze. The words hit him like an unexpected blow. His face went blank, but inside, a storm raged.


    "What did he just say?" Azrael''s thoughts raced as he struggled to hide his shock. "He knows about the anomaly, about the unnatural behavior of the townsfolk? How can that be?"


    But he quickly stopped his inner questioning. These pointless musings would only distract him. Now he had to stay calm. He could not afford to show any weakness—not in front of this stranger.


    He forced a smile, as bright as he could manage in this situation. "Yes, really," he replied seemingly casually, "the weather is great today." A brief moment passed before he added with feigned lightness, "But as for what you mean by madness... no idea. Isn''t it completely normal for people to freeze like flies in front of your window?"


    The black-haired boy returned the smile, but it was cold and hollow. "You''re absolutely right," he agreed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Anyone could have that happen to them. Even poor Amandine can''t help her behavior. It happens sometimes when hunger overtakes the mind, doesn''t it?"


    Azrael felt the tension inside him intensify. "So he knows," he concluded in his mind. The stranger showed no signs of the anomaly, not even the faintest trace, unlike Bartho and the other townsfolk.


    “I have to be careful. Who knows what this means. Maybe the problem with him is much bigger than I thought. But... I need allies," he mused, holding the boy''s gaze without letting on how uneasy this situation made him feel.


    "This is really strange. But apparently, he''s really unaffected," Azrael thought as he continued to study the stranger. "The previous responses clearly contradict the behavior of the townspeople. But why? Is that a good or bad sign?" This question burned in his mind, yet the answer remained uncertain.


    The black-haired boy continued without hesitation, his words direct, almost like a challenge: "Don''t you think it would be nice to rid this place of its madness?"


    Azrael responded just as quickly: "Yes, that wouldn''t be too bad. But there''s something I''m curious about. Why me?" His eyes remained sharp, focused on the other boy.


    The stranger shrugged slightly, as if the answer didn''t matter much to him. "I had a feeling," he replied vaguely. "But I can give you a useful piece of information: affected people just shut down when you bring up the topic."


    Azrael nodded, his mind racing at full speed. "Or they mock you," he added knowingly. He had already come to a similar conclusion but hadn''t been sure. A quick glance at Bartho, who smiled back at him indifferently, confirmed the boy''s words.


    "Bartho, could you go ahead without me? I’ve run into an old friend," Azrael said calmly, his voice carrying a hint of a lie, though Bartho seemed not to notice.


    "Alright, see you later." Without asking any questions, Bartho waved and walked down the path. Azrael was left with the stranger, who continued to regard him with that cold smile.


    "Do you want to save him?" the boy asked, his voice softer now, almost compassionate.


    Azrael hesitated before nodding. "Yes. Unfortunately, he''s affected too. I don’t know why, but the influence seems weaker on him." His words were firm, but inside, uncertainty simmered.


    "Interesting," murmured the boy thoughtfully. "I have someone I want to save too." This revelation seemed to create a fleeting bond between them, though Azrael still didn’t trust him.


    "Why were you so angry earlier?"


    Azrael grimaced, his defensive posture clear. "Tsss, stalker. That had nothing to do with the anomaly."


    The boy raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Sorry, but I''d still like to know. Don''t get mad. Let me finish, at least," he added quickly as Azrael''s expression darkened.


    "You have something to do with the madness. Or maybe the madness with you, who knows. The anomaly reacts differently to you. That''s why I need to know more."


    Azrael briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Fine," he muttered eventually. Reluctantly, he began to give the stranger a brief explanation. About his parents, the murders, and the hatred that consumed him like a flame.


    When he finished, silence fell. The air between them was thick, filled with unspoken words and questions left unsaid.


    "I''m not really good at comforting, sorry," Lyren began, scratching his head awkwardly. "But there''s an interesting realization. First, you should know that this anomaly started about a year ago. Maybe earlier. But for at least a year, no one, except for me, has left the city."


    "Half a year... that means..." Azrael frowned as the thought began to form in his mind.


    "Exactly," Lyren interrupted him, "Your relatives must be special in some way."


    Azrael''s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "If you can leave the city, why don''t you get help?"


    Lyren sighed softly, as if he had already expected the question. "That was my first thought as well. After some research, I found the most likely response to such a situation: complete elimination. They would wipe out all the affected and probably even those who seem unaffected."


    Azrael scoffed bitterly and smiled coldly. "Let me guess, God wants it this way?"


    Lyren returned the merciless smile with a nearly melancholic expression. "I see, you’re aware."


    A brief, heavy silence fell between them. The world around them seemed to fade into the background as they scrutinized one another. They understood each other in a grim, wordless way.


    "By the way, my name is Lyren," the black-haired boy finally said, as if it was meant to serve as some bridge in this strange alliance.


    "Azrael," he responded briefly.
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