The battlefield was silent.
Only the stink of blood and ashes lingered, and the broken corpses of vampires scattered among the ruins.
The hunters of the White Wolf Guild moved like scavengers.
Boots trampled the dead, hands pried rings from pale fingers, blades cut trophies from bodies.
Relics, charms, blood-crystals — anything that could be sold to nobles or merchants for coin.
None of them spoke of the man who had truly carved this slaughter.
None of them spoke of Azrael.
They acted like he didn't do anything.
Instead, their voices rang with mockery.
"The coward ran before the fight."
"The black-cloaked ghost? He vanished like smoke."
"Figures. He always hides in shadows, lets others do the real work."
They laughed, their words sharp as knives.
Behind them, a stretcher carried what was left of Kawara of the White Wolf.
His arms were gone, ripped from him in the carnage.
Only torn bandages and dried blood remained where his strength once lived.
Beside him walked Lysaria, her robes burned, her staff broken in half, but her eyes still alive with fire.
She was the real testimony of Azrael's power.
They were dragged back to the Guild's headquarters with little ceremony while the remaining mages that came with the White Wolf hunters--mostly healers-- were trying to help the people.
The healers worked on Kawara for hours.
Alchemy, magic, metal — the fusion of them all gave him new arms, crafted from enchanted steel and etched with runes.
They gleamed faintly, alive with power, but they were not his own.
He stared at them in silence, jaw clenched, as though mourning his humanity.
Lysaria sat at his side, untouched by kindness.
Her burns were bound, but no words of comfort were offered.
To the other hunters, they were survivors only by chance — and their presence was a burden.
When the Guild gathered in the great hall, the stories were already spreading.
The White Wolf hunters stood tall, their voices proud as they told the tale of their "victory."
How they had crushed the vampires. How Kawara had bravely sacrificed his arms in the fight. How Azrael, the shadow-hunter, had fled and left them to finish the battle.
Applause filled the hall.
Laughter followed.
The black hunter's name was spat like venom.
"Azrael the coward.""Azrael the deserter.""Azrael the invisible."
But then Kawara rose.
His new arms whirred and hissed with magic as he slammed them against the table, the sound silencing the hall.
"SILENCE! EVERYTHING DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE!" he shouted, his voice like stone grinding.
Silence filled the hall.
Everyone looked at, shocked.
Kawara had always been the nice and carismatic one.
But in that moment, he was deadly serious.
Everyone felt "anxious."
"You mock the only man who saved us. Without him, every last one of us would've been corpses rotting in the sun. He did everything! Azrael saved us!"
Gasps filled the chamber.
Lysaria stood beside him, eyes blazing.
"He fought where you failed. He stood when you ran. Do you not see? He is beyond us. Beyond all of us. He was there, before your disgusting mercenaries came to take the merits for what he did!"
The hall erupted into shouts.
Some jeered, spitting at the floor in contempt.
Others fell silent, unease creeping into their faces. A few exchanged fearful glances, their pride cracking beneath the truth.
"What the fuck are you saying, dumbass?!?! Azrael is a coward! Nobody has ever seen him fighting! He immediately ran away when he saw us!" One of the cocky hunters spoke, with a mug of beer in his right hand.
He was completely drunk.
Then, something happened.
Everyone's attention moved to the sound made by a big door.
"ENOUGH!"
A deep voice cut through the noise.
It was the guildmaster.
Stewulf. The Great and Sacred protector of people, one of the few hunters who were officially recognized by the great church and King of the entire continent. He stood two meters tall, full of muscles, white, long and messy hair touching his back, deadly scars on all his body... He was only dressed with formal clothes, but the aura surrounding his soul was the big thing.
Everyone stood silent and bowed in his presence.
Not for respect, but from fear.
Nobody had the permission of looking into his eyes without his consent.
He sat upon the high chair, eyes narrow, fingers drumming the armrest.
"Kawara, stand up and look at me." He ordered.
The hunter had no other choice.
He stood up and looked into the eyes of his leader.
The menacing aura of his crimson eyes was enough to defeat someone.
"Yes, Great Stewulf." Kawara said with a respectful voice while gently bowing his head.
"So," he said slowly, "you claim Azrael did this alone. That he carved down vampires like wheat, while you—" his gaze swept the room— "cowered."
Kawara's fists clenched, metal grinding against metal."Yes. There's no point in lie."
Lysaria lifted her chin. "We saw it with our own eyes. I swear on my family that we aren't lying."
Stewulf immediately moved his gaze towards Lysaria.
Luckily, she was still resting her head on the floor.
The leader didn't like interruptions.
"I'm not talking to you, Witch. Shut up." He said, stomping his feet on the ground.
The shockwave generated from his stomp made everyone shiver in fear.
Then, he moved his gaze towards Kawara.
The Guildmaster's face was unreadable.
But inside, his thoughts raced.
"Azrael. The dark hunter. Too strong. Too dangerous. I've heard about him. Voices say that when he arrives on the battlefield, the battle ends. The hunter who easily defeated a general of Maria without a sacred weapon... Moreover, he always come in places where nobody would think, like he's following directions from someone we don't see.. If nobles learn the truth, they will ask why he does not serve them. Why does he not bow? Why does he not sell his sword to kings? And if he's really that strong, he might be a menace one day... And... he'll steal all of our work No… this cannot spread."
He forced a smile, but his eyes glinted cold.
"Then perhaps," he said, voice loud enough to fill the hall, "perhaps it was Azrael who brought those vampires here. Perhaps he lured them with his cursed presence, then vanished when the blood was spilled. Tell me—how else could he have survived such an onslaught? How else but treachery? I've heard that people have seen a vampire who created clones and controlled flames, and some saw a shapeshifter. It's impossible that he defeated everyone alone."
Murmurs spread like wildfire.
Heads nodded.
Fear was easy to mold into hate.
"I cannot permit for you to spread voices about this hunter. I cannot allow it. I don't want any kind of problems with the nobles. The story will be this: The white wolf arrived on time and saved everyone. Azrael was nothing more than the one who had brought the vampires."
Kawara's eyes widened. "You—!"Lysaria's voice rose in fury. "Lies! You twist the truth because you fear him!"
This time, Lysaria stood up in anger.
She perfectly knew that everything she saw wasn't just her imagination.
Stewulf stood, his authority unchallenged.
He stomped the ground again, making Lysaria and Kawara fall down.
"You speak too boldly for those who should be silent. Kawara. Lysaria. Your tongues betray you. And so, for the good of this Guild, for the good of our contracts, you are no longer welcome."
The sentence fell like a guillotine.
"You will leave this place. Effective immediately. Exiled." Stewulf said.
Gasps rippled through the hall. A few hunters looked away in shame, others grinned in triumph.
Kawara's metal fists shook with fury. "WHAT? WHY?"
The Guildmaster's eyes narrowed. "DON'T YOU FUCKIN DARE TO CHALLENGE MY AUTHORITY, SCUM!" He shouted, with a very menacing tone of voice.
The two hunters then remained silent, realizing that the choice was made.
He could easily kill Kawara and Lysaria, but he decided not to.
Why? For a simple reason.
They had brought a lot of important material and resources thanks to the battle, moreover, every member of the guild had a magic spell on them which worked like a localizator.
That's why Stewulf decided to send the exiled hunters to Eryndor, the city of Azrael.
He had heard about that city where everyone live in harmony.
His spies told him about a secred and unauthorized guild deep down in the shadows of that city.
Stewulf needed to investigate, cosidering the voices about Azrael.
After realizing the words of the master, Lysaria immediately regretted everything she had said.
She started to beg on the floor, desperate, realizing that she couldn't find any other work.
"Please, leader... I can't lose this job... I need to pay for my brother's medicines... I'm sorry for my behavior." Lysaria said, in tears.
Kawara remained silent.
He was too angry to speak.
The other members of the guild remained silent.
Stewulf smirked.
"How funny... You now beg? HAHA! So be it. I'll send both of you to Eryndor to investigate, then. I want you to search for that famous secret hunters guild in the deep catacombs of the city. This is your last chance of redemption. I want you to gather any kind of possible information about that hunter. We might need to eliminate him." Stewulf said.
Kawara didn't reply. He just looked down on the floor.
Lysaria, instead, only bowed her head and nodde. "Yes, leader."
"You should be grateful for the grace that our leader has given to you." A female voice said, with a passive-aggressive tone.
It was Adelka, the assassin elf, second strongest in the guild.
She came out from the shadows.
"Oh shit! It's Adelka...!" One whispered.
The two hunters could only stay in silence.
Kawara gritted his teeth in anger.
He hated that woman.
"So, this will be your mission." Stewulf said.
After that, Kawara and Lysaria both received some new equipment.
And with that, the White Wolf and the burned mage were cast out.
They left the hall together, the Guild's laughter chasing them into the night.
Bitter.
Broken.
Yet not defeated.
Kawara clenched his new arms, their runes glowing like fire."They fear him," he said. "That's why they lie."
Lysaria's gaze burned with quiet resolve.
"I don't know what to do, Kawara." She said. "But... I've had some bad visions during my sleep."
"What kind of visions?" Kawara asked.
"I... saw... a man, tall. His face was nothing more than a skull and there was a fire burning inside of his skull. The man was sitting on a black throne inside an old cathedral, with a blood moon shining above... his right foot was chained to the throne and he was holding a black sword..." Lysaria said, while trying to remember.
Kawara looked at her with a confused look. "Did you eat some magic mushroom? Do you have hallucinations?" He asked.
Lysaria shook her head.
"There was a phrase on his sword... red letters, there was something written in an old language... Everytime I met him, he only asked me "Are you worthy?" " Lysaria said. "For some reason, I've been having this same dream every night a few days before meeting Azrael... I feel like I have to tell him about this." She added.
Kawara scratched his chin.
"Let's not think about it. Just focus on the mission, now." He said.
Lysaria nodded.
After that, their travel had finally begun.