The extra is a fox eyed jester-Chapter 74: Elsa Zain Astavore
"Eeeaahhhh—Mmphhh!"
Azazel watched coldly as the sole of his boot made its mark against Priel’s mouth.
The chestnut haired noble was trying to clutch his bleeding eye but Azazel didn’t let him.
"Hey... quit whining," he said with cold eyes staring down at Priel. "I haven’t even started yet."
Although his face was covered, Priel could notice two icy blue eyes narrowed into crescents from beneath the cloak.
A flicker of recognition slipped into Priel’s gaze, then his remaining eye—the good one, widened.
He struggled to speak but with Azazel’s boot placed against his mouth, he could only afford muffled sounds.
Azazel, noticing the fear in Priel’s eyes, chuckled.
"Ah yes... that’s the look."
He stared at the chained dagger within his hand.
"I wonder where such an expression was when you decided to go after my sister."
He laughed.
"Was it the promise of power? A backup from an unknown figure? Maybe the royal family members themself? What gave you, the son of a mere count, the right to attack an Astavore! Come on... spill it out, oh wait... you can’t."
’Mortal, finish this quickly, lest the madness from my blade will consume you.’
Azazel narrowed his eyes at Akathartos’ words then lowered himself slightly.
"I know... rather than killing you, how about we play a little game."
Playing with the edge of the dagger, Azazel smiled.
"How long can you remain still while I cut you open, or should I cause a mana reflux to ruin your insides, should I cripple you for life... no, I’ll save that for Espen."
Then his eyes turned cold.
"So, any last word."
He removed his foot then clicked his tongue.
"Don’t think about calling for help, it’s a useless struggle."
"Ah... p-please... spare me."
Azazel grinned beneath the mask letting his rage smolder his lungs.
"Spare you? Oh yes I could do that, but I won’t... don’t worry though I’ll make sure to send you off painlessly."
Priel trembled. He tried to speak, but his body fell limp.
The passive effect of Akathartos blade was already working, creeping through Priel’s veins while rendering the noble weak as the seconds ticked.
’Pitiful bastard.’
Azazel sighed inwardly, then the blade flashed.
Priel couldn’t even scream, his head was sliced off in an instant.
Blood splashed across the room in messy splats.
Azazel stared...
Waiting to feel a sense of guilt or perhaps regret, but it never came.
In the end he could only sigh before leaving the room through the window.
****
The night wind bit against his skin.
Subtle droplets of rain accompanied by the distant flashes of lightning promised the arrival of a storm—still Azazel didn’t return to his apartment.
He sat atop the roof of a clock tower watching the city below with a somber look on his face.
Within his hands was the egg of the raven Huginn.
Azazel was pouring a thin amount of essence into the egg.
He could feel it beating, drinking the essence greedily while he increased the amount each minute.
Lily had taken a considerable amount from him earlier but killing Priel had somewhat replenished it, albeit slightly.
He had gained a pitiful amount of mana from killing Priel, that alone signified that he was getting close to accession, well at least meeting a requirement for ascension.
For a god’s chosen, their trials differed from the rest.
For others they needed to witness a Chapter in their god’s story while the god’s chosen, apostles or spawn had to live out that Chapter.
Azazel wasn’t sure he was ready to witness a portion of a god’s story, he knew how insane they were from the little interaction he had with loki and what could’ve possibly driven someone to madness? Well the answer clearly lay in their journey.
He wasn’t going to attempt anything at least until he had maxed out his luck stat.
A small frown flickered on his face as the space behind him distorted.
Azazel grew tense for a second, then he allowed himself to relax.
’A chaos bringer.’ He mused inwardly.
He had noticed earlier that someone had been following him ever since he left the guesthouse.
Azazel allowed the raven’s egg to return back to his soul space, then he spoke.
"What business does the Chaos order have with me?"
He didn’t turn his head, no.
That would be him acknowledging their presence and whoever they were, he wanted to let them know of his disapproval.
To think someone was tailing him, watching his every move, it was unsettling but he was more worried about Lily.
’Did they see her feeding on my essence? No... Akathartos would have warned me if that was the case.’
The silence stretched for a second longer, then a bubbly female voice answered.
"My my my, the young master sure has grown, weren’t you about yee tall when I last saw you? Now you wouldn’t even bother sparing me a little attention."
Azazel scowled but he kept his gaze on his hostelry in Valectis.
His hands drew taut around the blade but he didn’t move.
"I won’t repeat myself," He said. "Who are you?"
The person didn’t respond, instead a pair of slender arms wrapped around his form.
Azazel felt his eye twitch, his mana flared.
He was about to draw the connection with the coin he placed at a checkpoint close to his hostelry, but then he stopped.
Something about the hug felt familiar and besides that, it didn’t carry the slightest trace of malice.
Azazel’s mind raced, while his body relaxed slowly.
"Elsa?"
Thwack!
"Ow..."
A hmph sounded behind him.
"That’s big sister Elsa to you, I’m your older cousin, little Zel."
’Little Zel?’
Azazel let out an exasperated sigh.
He recognized this person from the original Azazel’s memory.
Elsa Zain Astavore.
The second daughter of Valir Zain Astavore—the half brother of Viktor Von Astavore.
Many words could be used to describe her.
She was an odd ball, eccentric and hard to read, her personality was notoriously misleading.
To others she looked nice and sane but when was any Astavore actually sane?
When it came to executing orders or killing people, her personality did a three sixty flip.
Still she was the only one who didn’t treat Azazel as filth aside from his mother and was the only relative Azazel could spend time with.
Azazel tilted his head slowly, just enough to see a wave of inky black hair.
His gaze hardened, then he asked.
"Why did they send you?"
