*Before he ran away*
The scent of blood still lingered in the air.
Azrael stood motionless for a moment, eyes narrowed, as the wind shifted.
Beneath the iron tang of Gudras' corpse, he caught something else—faint, but real.
The scent of vampires.
It wasn't over.
Without a word, he turned toward the unconscious hunter lying nearby, still breathing shallowly but clearly injured.
Azrael knelt, slung the man over his shoulder like a sack, and bolted.
He moved like a shadow.
His feet barely touched the ground.
Trees blurred past.
Leaves and dust trailed in his wake as the black cloak behind him snapped in the wind.
Then—he saw it.
The small village.
Wooden palisades surrounded it, smoke curling upward from a central fire.
The scent of grilled meat, burning pine, and soil saturated the air.
When Azrael emerged from the trees and stepped into the clearing, the people around the fire turned quickly.
A mix of alarm and fear passed through the crowd.
Hands drifted to blades—until someone recognized him.
Only one person in that small crowd did nothing.
A woman... a very attractive woman.
"A hunter…!"
"It's a vampire hunter!" another cried, almost in disbelief. "They listened to us...!"
In moments, the fear turned to cheers, murmurs of awe.
Some even clapped.
Hunters were quite rare to see.
One arriving bloodstained and alive? That was a blessing from the gods.
Seeing a hunter in those conditions could only mean a single thing: That he emerged victorious.
Azrael approached the fire, gently lowering the wounded hunter to the ground.
"He's alive. Broken bones. Blood loss. Take care of him." He said, with a direct tone of voice.
An elderly man with a thick white beard stepped forward and nodded firmly. "We will. He's safe now."
Azrael gave no thanks.
He turned , ready to leave—
—when a soft, smooth voice stopped him.
"Hunter… come with me." The voice whispered in his ear.
He turned.
For some reason, Azreal always lowers his guard when he's around humans.
A young woman stood nearby, her golden hair glowing in the firelight, amber eyes calm and deep.
She wore a simple dress, clean and modest, but there was a presence about her.
An energy.
Something beneath the surface.
Azreal heard the villagers calling her "Aurea". But he didn't need confirmation.
This was surely a mask.
He followed her silently as she led him through a narrow path toward a secluded house near the outskirts of the village.
The moment the door shut behind them—
She changed.
Her blonde hair darkened, flowing like ink.
Her amber eyes flared to a brilliant violet.
Her dress morphed into combat gear: black leather laced with holy runes, pouches of blessed powder, gleaming silver daggers.
Her presence sharpened like a blade.
Azreal knew that she was... a special person, and for some reason, he felt like she already seen her somewhere.
"Freya Valken," she said, her voice now firm and commanding. "Elite-class hunter. Second only to the Commander."
Azrael's eyes narrowed."Didn't expect to see you here."
Freya smirked."I could say the same. I thought the 'Rogue Hunter' was just a violent loner who killed for sport to mask his killer nature."
Azrael's gaze sharpened."And I thought elite hunters preferred to let the rest of us die while they held debates in glass towers."
Their eyes locked.
A small moment of pure tension.
Freya stepped slowly around him, her gaze analyzing him like a weapon , with a glimpse of amusement.
"I saw your little dance with Gudras. The laughter was unexpected. You're... entertaining..." She said, while leaning close to him. "... and also... fascinating in some ways..." Freya whispered, while leaning even closer and tracing a small line on his chest with her finger.
"Why are you here?" Azrael asked, his voice low and wary, while gently pushing her hand away.
"You'll find out soon enough," Freya said, tone playful, almost flirtatious."But relax. I didn't come to kill you. Not yet, anyway." She said, with a teasing tone.
Azrael didn't lower his guard, but deep inside, he felt the weight of her presence.
Freya Valken.
The Lady of Light.
Famous for her lethal precision, master of twin daggers and holy bombs.
Her most feared ability by vampires and demons? Divine Blessing—an invisible barrier that disintegrated any vampire foolish enough to touch her.
The presence of such a skilled hunter in a small village like this could mean only one single thing : DANGER.
A sudden knock on the door interrupted them.
"Excuse me! The village elder invites you both to share a meal by the fire!"
Freya glanced at Azrael, a mischievous glint in her eye.
"Well? Shall we eat?" Freya said, transforming back to her "Stealth" form.
Azrael exhaled slowly.
"I don't like dinners." He said, in an annoyed voice.
"What about... surprises~?" Freya whispered into his ear.
But Azrael seemed not to care about her "Flirt".
"Only the kind where the monster dies at the end." He said, with still a cold voice.
Freya chuckled. "Then I promise this one will be delicious." Freya said, in a flirty tone of voice.
The two stepped out together, back into the firelight.
The village had calmed.
Plates were being passed.
People smiled.
But behind every smile, Azrael saw it—something wasn't right.
And the night was far from over...