Death Heir's Devouring System
Chapter 50: Equal to An Angel

Chapter 50: Equal to An Angel

The surroundings seemingly blurred, the only things that Azrael perceived were himself, his foe, and the distance separating them.

Inhaling deeply, his body tensed. Raising his leg, he kicked the Unworthy Knight with all the might he could muster. Usually, due to their weight difference, the abomination shouldn’t have staggered back. However, Azrael had acted faster than it could react. After blocking the strike that was meant to end Isodle’s life, he repositioned his scythe behind his foe’s legs.

The blade hooked and swept. The knight stumbled forward from the scythe and backward from the kick, losing balance and tilting, seconds from collapse.

But it wasn’t going to fall quietly. Its blade shifted midair, now targeting Azrael.

Calling forth Mother Needle once more, he intercepted the attack even if he was forced to take a step back.

The abomination used its palm to shoot itself upwards from the ground before Azrael could use the moment.

Going low, Azrael’s scythe went for the abomination’s legs once more.

Thanks to the faint intellect the creature had preserved despite the corruption, it sensed the attack. It raised its foot and brought it down on Gravebloom, halting it in its place. Simultaneously, its swords moved, cutting Azrael’s cheek, drawing crimson blood.

’It seems you aren’t aware. My blood... is precious.’ He mused, using his skill [Blood Manipulation]. The wound closed as fast as it appeared.

Placing a hand on the knight’s shoulder, Azrael moved left, drawing the creature’s gaze right where he wanted it. It failed to notice Mother Needle cutting in from the opposite side.

A heartbeat later, the thin blade severed the black flower blooming from its skull.

An ear-piercing shriek escaped the hidden maws of the knight. Beneath its shattered golden armor, a dark liquid, its blood, began to seep.

’So I was right. Since neither your neck nor where your heart should have been were weak points, the flower on your head was.’

Enraged, the knight slashed faster than before. Its speed had doubled, but its accuracy halved. The blade cut Azrael’s shoulder. The pain was agonizing, but it wasn’t fatal.

Sweeping the knight off its legs, Azrael brought down Gravebloom on the abomination’s head.

Once the blade of the scythe pinned the creature to the ground, he began to stab with Mother Needle once more.

With its body screwed to the ground, the Unworthy Knight wasn’t able to do anything to retaliate. Soon after, its body went limp.

[Corrupt soul has been devoured. The taint in your soul grows darker.]

Corruption Progression: [2/100] _{fre eweb\(n)ovel(.)co(m)}

Azrael sighed and placed a hand over his torn shoulder. [Blood Manipulation] slowed the bleeding, but the wound was too large. The skill wasn’t strong enough yet.

He needed to advance his Corruption more to be able to close such severe wounds.

’Slowing the bleeding is good enough... for now,’ he thought, eyes sweeping the battlefield.

The worst had passed. The knight that once loomed over Isolde now lay shattered, its twisted limbs torn from its torso. Its head dangled loosely, barely attached.

Seraphina had triumphed too. Though her golden hair was streaked with black blood, she remained pristine. Still, her chest heaved with ragged breaths—she wouldn’t admit it, but the fight had pushed her to her limits.

"One... five... twelve," Azrael counted.

Only twelve Chosen had fallen. Not ideal, but not catastrophic either.

’Mostly the weak ones. Not too much of a loss,’ he thought, forcing optimism.

Sitting down, he waited for a healer. He had managed to ignore the pulsing pain from his ribs up until now. But with the fight over the adrenaline was gone as well.

Logan, the nervous boy who had warned them of the ambush, moved carefully through the corpses toward Azrael. Though others were wounded more severely, Azrael’s performance in the battle had made it clear he was equal to their angels. His condition was prioritized.

Logan placed a hand on Azrael’s shoulder. A green light escaped his palm and entered Azrael, slowly healing his external and internal injuries.

Allowing his shoulders to drop, Azrael called forth Gray’s Cigar and used Frostflare Flint to light it up. The blue flames illuminated his figure smeared in black blood, giving him the haunting appearance of a demon.

’At least this one is useful,’ he thought, casting a glance at Logan.

The silence after the clash was broken only by groans and screams, mortally wounded Chosen lay clinging to life. Since aside from Logan there was only one other healer, not everyone was going to be treated on time.

Healing potions had long run out, more than a week had passed since they had entered the Rift. The ones that had somehow managed to preserve them kept them hidden in case they ever needed them.

Azrael’s gaze settled on two siblings who’d accompanied him into the deeper parts of the kingdom. One was crying over the body of her sister, begging for a healing potion or a healer.

"Leave me be." Once Azrael’s shoulder was healed, he brushed Logan’s hand from him. The man had a pained expression—his Rank was still Chosen, he could perform healing only one or two more times at best.

With a nod, his eyes swept over the battlefield. Due to the boy’s nature, he had a hard time prioritizing who he should or shouldn’t save.

"Here!"

The sibling shouted, making Logan’s head snap to her.

He bit his lip in hesitation, for James, his friend, was also in critical condition.

"What are you waiting for?! Come here or I’ll kill you!"

She rose to her feet, fury in her eyes.

"Patch up James,"

Azrael commanded Logan before he was forced to make a decision.

He had seen James’s skill himself, he was more valuable than the life of the girl. Not to mention he had saved him when he was in a pinch. Azrael was simply returning the favor.

"Who do you thi—"

Before the woman could finish, Azrael slapped her. Her cheek reddened; he hadn’t held back.

"Your sister was weak; she lost, she died. Deal with it and be better."

She staggered, her fists clutched; she was about to lash out. Until Azrael punched her in the stomach, making her crouch from the pain, gasping.

"Learn your place." He spoke emotionlessly, leaving her to her own devices.

His eyes swept toward the two angels. Seraphina was busy embracing Isolde so tight it looked like she would snap her in half, the blind girl didn’t know how to react.

Seraphina didn’t stay in that state for long. Quickly getting her composure back, she began barking orders and mended the damage.

"Wait."

Just when Azrael had judged he had done enough and was about to head to eat, he was halted by Seraphina’s words.

"What now?"

A flicker of hesitation passed over Seraphina’s eyes before she bowed deeply. "Thank you for saving Isolde. Due to my lack of foresight, I was about to lose her."

He shrugged. "Her being alive benefits the camp."

He spoke nonchalantly, while inwardly wondering if his actions had been enough to make the so-called angel feel indebted.

Then came the unexpected.

"Isolde has told me what kind of Remembrance you possess—"

Azrael’s gaze darkened momentarily but didn’t interrupt.

"—So I have a request. We’ve explored the eastern Golden Lands. But not the central or western areas. There must be other Chosen still out there. I want you to fly above and find them. Bring them back. We need numbers."

"I refuse." He spoke coldly.

"Why should I do that? Risk being away from the shelter with no access to food or safety? Most of you are from the Elite School, no? You should be better trained, equipped, and prepared than me, these things give you an edge."

She bit her lower lip slightly. "It pains me to admit, but few are on your level when it comes to speed and stealth."

Azrael didn’t let the praise get to his head. "Again, why should I?"

"I will reward you."

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing. That was new—for the first time, somebody wanted to buy his services.

"Give me your hand," she said, offering hers.

After a second she added, "Don’t worry, I am not going to cleanse you."

Still on his guard, he did what she asked.

In an instant, her crimson armor vanished, leaving her in a silky robe that left her neck and shoulders bare. He, however, wasn’t focusing on her figure but on the words of the system.

[Item has been transferred.]