The morning sun rose with the emotions of a new day and a new adventure. Azrael felt the rays of light fall upon him, his face flushed with warmth. The early winds carried the first breath of his freedom, along with minute dust particles settling inside his chest, which seemed to carry the weight of responsibilities accompanying that freedom.
With sleepy eyes and messy hair, he pushed his body toward the bath. The first touch of water washed away his fatigue, and the solid ground held him up, supporting the weight of his new path. He got out of the bath, donned a simple cream linen shirt with matching pants, and there on his usual black robe. On top of the robe, he wore a classic brown hood to partially hide his face and left the Vaeloreth Manor.
No one saw him leaving; more accurately no one cared anymore. They ruled it off as the unusual boy doing weird stuff. After his public stunt, the soldiers and maids had become accustomed to almost anything Azrael did. It was another useful application of his built-up persona.
After walking some distance from the castle, he entered a dark alleyway where the visibility was low. A short time later, from the other opening, a white-haired and blue-eyed kid joined the crowd on the main street.
He moved to the centre of the capital, searched for travelling merchants, and joined a caravan leaving the city. This wasn't the first time he had left the castle; he had attended many official noble meetings and, after he assimilated blood, knowing he could at least defend himself, Azrael had sneaked out of the castle to explore the capital multiple times.
As the caravan moved slowly toward the city's outer gates, Master White sat on one of the goods carriages. He had offered to help pull one of the carriages just to join the merchant group. His face was still hidden, and no expression can be made out of regarding what he was thinking. But his body betrayed him, if one looked closely. His hands were shaking as if from an unscratchable itch, his foot tapped against the floor's base in an act of calming himself down, and he was looking everywhere, moving his head to absorb every piece of new information.
This was not fear or nervousness, but anticipation—the thrill of excitement of leaving the city for the first time. While his mind was busy registering all of this, a man came up to him, holding a scroll and quill. He didn't look up; he was busy scribbling something on the parchment.
Without looking at Master White, he asked. "Five gold coins."
Master White, distracted, didn't answer. The man waited patiently for a few seconds but there was still no response. Azrael wasn't even looking at him.
The man finally glanced at Master White, as he wasn't responding. He noticed that Master White wasn't paying attention. He raised his voice,
"SIR, Five gold coins!" Master White still didn't respond.
"White! He is asking for the fee." Azrael's voice broke Master White's reverie.
Master White looked at the man in front of him. The scribe had furrowed brows and was looking at him with frustration. He was on his last thread, and looked ready to snap at any moment.
Master White opened the pouch hanging at his waist, and gave the coins to the man.
The man took the gold, and asked for a name,
"Zar'ael." Master White replied. The man gave him an annoying look, noted the name down, and walked off.
"Fu*king rogues, creating trouble all the time." He muttered as he moved to the next carriage.
"Rogue", was a derogatory term used for the independent cultivators. They didn't belong to any factions or groups; thus, the common belief was that they had no morals and only acted upon personal interests.
The man considered Azrael to be an independent cultivator. Only a rogue would travel with no papers accounting his identity. That was also the reason he had to pay Five gold coins as fee, whereas it was usually just 500 silver.
The merchant company leading the caravan would be responsible to prove his credibility. And in exchange they extorted money or items from the rogue cultivators.
Suddenly, Azrael materialized beside Master White, and looked at him with a deadpan expression. He was only visible to White. So, he didn't attract any attention.
"Zar'ael, really?? That is just A-Z-R-A-E-L jumbled."
"You could've just said Azrael without mentioning the House." Azrael remarked. Master White stared back at him but didn't reply.
The caravan moved from town to town, and it was already three days since Azrael had left the Vaeloreth manor. During the travel, he didn't speak to anyone or get acquainted. He remained silent, even when he was offered food, declining every time. He stood out because he didn't involve himself with the adventurers or the merchants. But once the man who collected the fee pointed out he was a rogue, many stopped associating with him and ignored him of their own accord.
Seven days later, they reached the Frostwoods Gate.
Frostwoods gate, was the caravan's last destination. It was the border between the Sylvanus Kingdom and the Vestra Kingdom.
Both the Kingdoms were separated by their natural borders. The Sylvanus Kingdom harbored a rich habitat of natural forest, housing different tiers of beasts, with lush green trees rising high into the sky known as the Sylvaran Woods.
The Vestra Kingdom was situated on a cold plateau, shielded by a wall of naturally formed giants of nature; the inhabitants mimicked the cold nature of the ever-present snow and ice of the Frostbrand Mountain range.
Frostwoods Gate served as the transition town for both of these natural terrains.
The caravan disbanded, and everyone went their respective ways. Master White searched for an inn, and arrived at the FrostWood Inn— basically a copy of the town's name, but it was the only functional Inn in the area.
"I need food and accommodation for a week." Master White said to the receptionist at the front table. She noticed Master White and looked him up and down, trying to decipher his identity while he still wore the hood.
"Ten gold coins for a week." She said.
Master White nodded and handed over the coins. Receiving the payment, the receptionist guided him to his room and left.
In the room,
It was already night. They both wanted to rest first, so that they would be in their best condition when they entered the forest.
"Tomorrow, let's just learn as much as we can about this place." Azrael commented while he lay on the bed
Master White nodded.
Then they discussed their strategy, after which Azrael took control of the body and started cultivating. After two days of gathering information and mental preparation at the inn, Master White decided it was time. They hadn't come here to stay in a comfortable bed; they had come to test the Blood Core they had spent a year condensing.
They stepped past the heavy iron spiked wall of the Frostwoods Gate. The transition was immediate. The air turned humid, smelling of damp earth and ancient moss. The Sylvaran Woods didn't just look like a forest; it felt like a living, breathing entity.
"Be careful, White," Azrael whispered internally. "The Enos here... it feels heavy."
"I know," White replied, his senses sharpened.
They ventured deeper, away from the usual merchant paths. The sunlight was quickly swallowed by the canopy above, leaving the forest in a state of shifting light and dark. Suddenly, the atmosphere turned eerie.
Master White stopped. His "Energy Circulation" passive ability flared. Behind a clump of thorn-bushes, a pair of glowing yellow eyes locked onto him. It was a Shadow-Claw Panther, a Tier-1 beast known for its ambush speed. Before White could even process the thought of a counter-attack, the beast blurred. It pounced at him, claws extended to rip open his throat.
Reflex took over.
But it wasn't White's calculated reflex—it was Azrael's, the body's raw, explosive instinct. In a flash of movement, the "Bracelet of Restraint" hummed as the body's battle power surged.
Master White didn't dodge.
As the panther reached the peak of its lunge, Azrael's right hand shot out like a piston, fueled by the newly formed Blood Core. He caught the beast mid-air by its skull. The sheer momentum of the panther should have knocked him back, but Azrael stood like an unmovable mountain.
With a cold, primal look in his eyes, he slammed the beast straight down into the forest floor.
CRACK.
The sound of the panther's skull shattering echoed through the trees. The ground beneath them cratered, dirt and dead leaves exploding outward from the impact. The beast didn't even have time to whimper; its body was reduced to meat instantly by the sheer, overwhelming force of a peak Tier-1 cultivator.
Master White stood up, his hand covered in dark beast blood. He looked at his trembling palm—not trembling with fear, but with the sheer high of the power he now possessed.
"One hit..." The materialized Azrael by Master White's side muttered, a genuine, dark smile appearing on his face. "The forest is going to be fun."
*************
Author's Note : I have two things to convey. one is the currency system, the other is a question.
Currency system :
Mortal currency: basic currency is silver, the higher standard is gold.
1000 Silver coins = 1Gold coin.
Cultivators currency: Enos crystals (more explanation in the upcoming chapters.)
Question :
Do you want the name Zar'ael to be a permanent alias or not?
If not that, then I have another variation, which is "Zaral."
Drop a comment of your choice! I would love to hear your thoughts.