Azazel stood in silence for a moment before speaking with a heavy sigh.
"So it has finally ended in my loss..."
His tone was heavy, his chest heavy, and the moment itself heavy.
Nobody liked taking a loss, even if it was against their own best friend. And losing after looking forward to a battle made the matter even more depressing. Although he had enjoyed the battle to the fullest extent, his loss seemed to nullify it all.
"It was bound to happen, Azazel."
Azaron's voice came from the side, a satisfied smile appearing on his lips as he raised his hand and stared at it. He was satisfied with the new skill he had created, and now had finally been the perfect time to test it.
At Azaron's words, Azazel's lips twitched. He felt like walking up to this guy and punching him in the gut.
"And why is that?" he asked.
Azaron turned his gaze away from his hands as he spoke in a confident tone.
"Because I'm a Wargrave."
