Death Heir's Devouring System
Chapter 34: Sacrifice

Chapter 34: Sacrifice

Azrael prided himself on two things: his resilience and his swiftness. But before the being now chasing him, both were meaningless.

His Ascension Level was inferior, as well as his Purity and Corruption Rank. Every trick he could use, every advantage he could get by being lucky, wouldn’t be able to make a difference.

His companion was still with him, but even two against one, their deaths seemed inevitable.

They ran with everything they had, but the Mindweaver was closing in. Thanks to the padding on its insectile legs, it moved with the silence of death itself. The only warning of its rapid approach was the enormous growing shadow it cast over them.

’I’m not dying like this,’ Azrael thought, veins bulging with power as he pushed his body to the limit, summoning every last ounce of strength.

With a flick of his finger, he called forth Gravebloom. The scythe materialized in his hands, ready to reap both life and death alike.

But its blade wasn’t aimed at the monster. It was aimed at the nearest Chosen.

Thanks to the chaos that had erupted in the entire area of the military school, countless people were running left and right. And Azrael was going to make use of that.

His scythe blurred through the air, and in the next instant, it severed the legs of a frightened young girl. Their eyes met for a heartbeat—hers filled with disbelief, his with cold calculation.

Victor did the same. His double axe cleaved through the torso of another Chosen, cutting halfway through. The victim collapsed, blood spilling as strength left his body.

The demon duo didn’t halt their steps even for a moment, Azrael’s eyes locked on the shadow behind them.

He allowed himself a brief sigh of relief when it stopped. Just for a second, he risked turning his head.

The Mindweaver had used two of its numerous legs to pierce the woman’s arms, rendering them useless and forcing her to stay in place. Its giant eye hovered an inch away from her face, blazing at her with saturated Corruption her body wasn’t able to handle.

The next second her cries ceased. Legs similar to the being that had killed her began to tear her skin apart.

Seeing that she had become a monster, Azrael used [Inspect].

Name: [Unnamed]

Race: [Mindless]

Danger Level: [Savage]

Corruption Rank: [Twisted]

’If things weren’t bad enough already, now these things can multiply,’ he thought bitterly, not halting his sprint.

Explosions rang over the whole area; some Chosen fought desperately, while others ran, not daring to look backward.

It was bitterly ironic, the massive walls built to keep monsters out were now keeping the Chosen trapped inside. The only exit was the main entrance, which unfortunately was beaming with abominations of the Reaver Danger Level.

Just when all hope seemed lost, Azrael spotted a familiar-looking silhouette in the distance.

"Champion Frederick!"

The old man was gesturing for the nearby Chosen to enter the building behind him, taking shelter from the onslaught outside. Around him, slain corpses of several monsters lay on the ground, soaking the earth with their blood.

With a nod to each other, Azrael and Victor made their way toward him.

Upon seeing them approach, Champion Frederick’s gaze darkened, his eyes momentarily lowered to the insignias on their chests. The moment he realized that there was nothing wrong with their attire, his cold expression faded.

"Hurry, young ones, enter!" He urged them forward, eyes trailing behind them to the monsters that were hot on their trail.

The ground beneath him cracked as he pounced on the corrupted creatures without hesitation. Azrael and Victor entered the building without looking back.

"Damn," Azrael muttered, eyes wide. "So many..."

’How many did Frederick save?’ he wondered, genuinely impressed. The military schools hadn’t lifted a finger to protect their students—only to eliminate the threat. But Frederick had made a different choice.

Inside, the Chosen were divided into two groups, members of the Elite School and the Moon Breakers.

Azrael and Victor exchanged glances, then moved toward the Moon Breakers.

With an exhausted sigh, the Heir of Death collapsed onto the cold floor. Part of his anxiety lifted from his shoulders, but the rest still lingered.

Scared whispers echoed throughout the building. The sound dug deep into his skull, irritating him.

’There are monsters outside, and these fools can’t shut up? Are they trying to lure them in?’

The more time passed, the more fierce and loud the battle cries happening outside sounded.

Eventually, Champion Frederick entered the shelter with a weird device in his hand. He proceeded to put it on the doors, forming a bluish barrier across them. It was the same kind of containment shield used to seal weaker Rifts.

’If he’s sealing the doors, it means he’s given up on saving the rest.’

"Instructor!" one of the terrified Chosen shouted. "What’s happening? Why are so many monsters appearing here?!"

Frederick threw him a menacing glare, using his aura to silence him.

"Remembrances," he said grimly. "Somehow, outside Chosen infiltrated the Moon Breakers. They triggered Submission Rituals—offering themselves to the monsters. By dying, they allowed those creatures to take over their bodies. That’s why we’re seeing this."

Silence befell the Chosen, everyone too shocked to speak.

"I don’t know why this is happening," he continued. "But my orders were clear—kill as many monsters as I could."

His voice became softer.

"But I chose to disobey. I chose to prioritize saving the young."

"It must be because of those bastards!" Some of the Moon Breakers members threw hostile glances at the members of the Elite School. Everything had been going normal until they showed up.

Azrael felt there was merit to their frustration. It made sense—since many heirs of the great clans had come here, their rivals must have used the opportunity to get rid of as many as possible.

"It’s your fault! Your security systems are outdated!" The Elite School members roared back.

’It seems you were wrong, Seyra. I indeed have to worry about the clans even now,’ he thought half-jokingly, leaning back against a wall.

Frederick managed to quell the anger inside the building, the young ones stopped throwing insults at each other, but the hostility still remained clear in their eyes.

’Should the old man leave us alone, it will be a bloodbath,’ Azrael mused, trying to form a plan.

His eyes wandered across the interior, scanning for weak Chosen, as well as any faults in the building itself.

There were Chosen with crimson attires—members of the Flameborn. Their representatives, Seraphina and Isolde, were nowhere in sight.

’It will be best if they are dead,’ Azrael thought. Seraphina probably knew that his Inborn Trait had something to do with Corruption. But at the same time, it would have been beneficial for them to be here. The more properly trained Chosen who could fight against the corrupted monsters, the better.

His eyes didn’t stop. There were Chosen that wore blue attires—members of the Wavecrest clan, as well as ones that wore golden uniforms—members of the Vaelthorn clan. The clan Seyra was a part of before joining the government for reasons still unknown to him.

When he was in the infirmary, Azrael had used the time to study the clans. He knew those were the three strongest ones. There were members of other lesser clans, of course, but those three made up the majority.

Next, his eyes sought his own group. Fortunately or unfortunately, his gaze landed on a familiar figure.

’He is alive even now?’

Azrael mused, walking toward the man who was hugging his knees, sobbing on the ground.

"Troy, huh? What happened? You look a bit frightened."

The man lifted his gaze, meeting Azrael’s.

There wasn’t much benefit in messing with the man, but it didn’t feel bad to take the weight off his mind for a second. He was owed this much at least. He still remembered the way the fool had insulted his favorite weapon, and he wasn’t going to forget that.

"I don’t want to," Troy spoke barely above a whisper.

Azrael arched an eyebrow. "What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

Troy shook his head. "No, I don’t want to join them. This was never meant to happen. It’s just my rotten luck!"

Azrael let out a sigh. "Nothing goes as planned in this cursed world. You can blame your luck all you want. The other ones will be busy surviving, while you’re too scared to make a choice."

Hearing his words, Troy’s shaking body seemed to calm down.

"You know... you might be right,"

Azrael nodded. "Yes, it’s rare when I am not," he declared confidently.

"I just have to make a choice..." Troy muttered, standing on his feet, gaze fixed on his hands.

Taking a deep breath, he smiled faintly.

"Yes, so be it. In His name, I will do it, I will follow the Herald’s command."

His two hands gripped the two insignias that were sewn on his attire, ripping them off with a clean motion.

"I sacrifice—"

A chill ran down Azrael’s spine, instantly Gravebloom materialized in his hands. With a blur, he appeared right before the man, the scythe’s blade inches from his neck.

But before the weapon could reach its target.

Troy’s eyes went cold.

And new ones appeared all over his lifeless body. The air in the room grew heavier due to the Corruption.

Troy was dead and a monster had taken his place.