The sound came before the sight—a low, resonant hum, like a chant without words, pulsing through the stone beneath Azazel's feet.
He followed the vibrations past torch-lit tunnels and jagged archways, drawn toward a wide opening where flickering light spilled across the cavern walls. The tunnel opened into a hollowed arena, carved into the rock like some underground coliseum.
Benches wrapped around its bowl-like shape, stacked high and rough-hewn, filled with cloaked figures, gamblers, and black-market dwellers. The center was a pit, stone-floored and blood-stained. And in the pit—
A fight.
A boy and girl clashed in fierce motion. The girl—Hypathia—was swift, her blade gleaming with silver dust. Her opponent—Ino, taller and wiry—moved with sharp discipline, parrying her strikes with a thin black blade that shimmered with some unnatural coating.
Azazel took a seat, his hood low. He wasn't here to fight. Not yet. He just wanted to see. To understand.
The man next to him leaned in, elbow resting on his knee.
"Who's your coin on? Hypathia or Ino?"
Azazel blinked. "I am new here."
"New blood, huh?" the man said, chewing on a strip of dried meat. "That's Basil's disciple down there—Ino. The fast one's Hypathia. She's trained under Margarita."
Azazel glanced down at the duel. They were... fast. Precise. Beautiful and brutal.
"They know each other?"
"Since childhood," the man nodded. "Both of 'em grew up and trained together with other disciples of hunters, just in front of our eyes. You'll hear that word a lot down here—the Order made a deal with Rome. Many of not-initiated hunters will head for Paris. If they get through the trials, they'll earn a place in the coming Ritual of Initiation in Rome."
Azazel narrowed his eyes. "What's so special about Rome?"
Man chuckled.
Azazel couldn't understand. With his knowledge, he knew enough, but didn't realize what connection may hunters have with it, moreover from grandfather's journal he found out that Catholics don't really like hunters.
"Ahhh…" the man leaned back, lowering his voice. "This year the Order made a deal. The ritual's gonna be overseen by some high-ranking figures in the Vatican. Maybe even someone from the Inner Conclave… whoever awakens there… will awaken stronger."
He chuckled once more, almost wistfully. "I've already been initiated. Unfortunately."
The man sighed. "The last time something like that happened was more than 10 years ago at Shaolin and more than 20 at Masjid al-Haram."
Azazel said nothing.
He watched the fight, transfixed by the way steel met steel, how sweat and silence filled the void between blows.
They were good.
And if these were his peers… he wasn't so far away.
At least that's what he thought.