The Slayer Ascension: Cursed and Blessed.-Chapter 35: Two Against One

Chapter 35

Gazel forced a smile and spoke in a low voice.

"It’s not too late to bail out of this fight, right?" he said. "Because I just remembered I have an errand to run."

Everyone present knew he was lying.

Including him.

But excuses were pointless anyway. Not that it mattered. The two mid-ranked monsters did not care in the slightest about him trying to back out.

They grinned.

Both of them.

Confidence rolled off their grotesque faces. To them, the fight was already over.

Then they charged.

Gazel’s heart skipped, but only for a moment. Panic was death. He had hunted too many demons to forget that. He forced his breathing steady, mind snapping back into rhythm.

At the last second, he slid low.

The first monster’s claw barely missed him, slicing through empty air. Gazel kicked off the ground, twisting to avoid the second strike.

He was not lucky enough.

The second demon’s claws tore across his chest. Flesh ripped open. Blood burst outward in a violent spray.

Gazel’s expression did not change.

Anyone else would have panicked. Anyone else would have sealed their fate.

Not Gazel.

Getting his chest raked open was almost routine at this point.

He reacted on instinct.

His leg snapped upward, then came down with full force onto the demon’s head. Caught off guard, the monster slammed face-first into the ground.

The other demon moved to charge.

Then danger screamed.

The knife Gazel had thrown earlier tore back through the air, aimed straight for the demon’s neck. It twisted just enough to avoid a fatal blow, but the blade still carved deep. Fresh crimson sprayed across its scales.

That was not the kill.

That was the stall.

Gazel raised his hand. The knife flew back into his grip. Without hesitation, he lunged and plunged it straight toward the demon’s throat.

Impact.

A massive fist smashed into the side of his head.

Gazel was launched through the air and slammed straight into a large building. His vision blurred. His throat went dry.

Then pain vanished.

The moment his body hit the wall, everything went numb. No pain. No sensation. Nothing.

For a few fleeting moments, he did not exist.

Then feeling crept back.

Slow. Heavy.

Gazel pushed himself up.

He stood.

The demons froze.

They were not the only ones.

The battered young woman covered her mouth, eyes wide in horror, like she had just witnessed something she was never meant to see.

A wet sound reached Gazel’s ears.

Dripping.

He looked down.

A large red pool spread across the ground.

No.

Not just a pool.

His pool.

What made him pause was not the blood.

It was the reflection.

The figure staring back at him looked exactly like him. No. It was him.

And he looked dead.

Half of his lower face had been crushed by the blow and the impact. Bone exposed. Flesh mangled. Blood poured endlessly, as if his body had an infinite supply of it.

And yet.

He could still speak.

The upper half of his face looked calm. Normal. No pain. No panic.

In one simple word, he did not look human.

The demon took a step back, voice shaking.

"What the hell are you?" it demanded. "One of the demon-hunted? You... you’re a demon."

Gazel raised an eyebrow.

If he were not in his current state, it might have looked almost cute.

A demon calling him a demon. How ironic.

He tore a strip from his dark coat and calmly wrapped it around his lower face, pressing hard to stop the bleeding. He could not feel the pain, but that did not mean he could afford to lose blood.

When he was done, he looked back at the two demons.

Their eyes were wide. Shocked. Uneasy.

Gazel tilted his head and asked in a calm voice, "Now that you know what I am... are you scared?"

Silence.

For a long moment, neither demon spoke.

Inside his head, Gazel grinned.

They had to be terrified.

Right?

Normally, his healing and pain tolerance were pathetically low.

That was the truth.

But looking at the situation now, Gazel knew something else was at work. His dark core. It had to be. Had it acted up again? He did not know. He only knew one thing.

He prayed it would.

If he could shift into his demon form, even though he loathed it with every fiber of his being, it might be his only chance to survive this battle.

One of the demons laughed and spoke.

"You might be a demon, but since you dare stand up for a human, you deserve nothing but death."

The other followed immediately, its voice thick with disdain.

"You’re still alive. That means your healing is impressive. You must be related to the upper ranks. But that won’t save you. They’ll be glad to hear a weakling like you was killed before you brought shame upon them."

With that ridiculous, self-important declaration, they charged.

Gazel’s face hardened.

"So you don’t fear me," he said quietly. "Then I’ll let you."

He placed a hand over his chest.

His focus sank inward, straight to the dark gem resting there. It was calm. Too calm. Like it was asleep.

"Release," he commanded.

Nothing happened.

No surge of power. No flood of dark energy. No change in his body.

Nothing.

Then everything hit at once.

One blow crashed into his chest. Another smashed into his head.

Boom.

Bam.

Pain exploded.

Far away from the ruined city, a lone figure stood beneath the moonlight. From his vantage point, he watched as the golden glow of a massive mystical sphere slowly faded.

He let out a breath he did not realize he was holding.

"The golden days are coming to an end," he murmured. "Soon, the slaughter will stop."

His mid-length white hair flowed gently in the night air.

To his left, a man appeared, dressed in the uniform of the Shural. A bronze badge rested on his chest, marked with three stars.

"Reporting to Sir Ashiro," the Shural said, bowing.

"Give your report," Ashiro replied, not turning around.

"The battle is coming to a conclusion. The demons are retreating. I believe the coming days will be peaceful."

Ashiro shook his head slowly.

"Peace?" he said. "What a foolish illusion. As long as demons live, peace will never be more than a lie."

After a moment of silence, he spoke again.

"How many Shural were lost?"

The man bowed deeper.

"Around one hundred bronze Shural, and a few silver-ranked ones in our district. Other areas are still unconfirmed."

Ashiro’s expression darkened.

"Silver-ranked?" he asked. "How many stars?"

"Mostly one-star," the man replied after a pause. "A few two-star."

Ashiro sighed.

"That is a heavy loss. Give the fallen proper burials. They will be mourned."

He paused.

"What about the blessed humans? How many were secured?"

"Two hundred were rescued," the Shural said. Then hesitated.

"But?"

"There are only one hundred ninety-nine accounted for. One is missing. A young lady from the Ery family. Her last known location was near Green Vale Lake."

Ashiro stared at the moon, unmoving.

"Do not concern yourself with her," he said at last. "She is from the Ery family. I will look for her personally. Your priority is ensuring the remaining blessed reach the Bulwark safely. No more interference."

The man bowed and vanished.

Ashiro lingered for a moment longer before disappearing as well.

Back in the ruins, Gazel’s situation had gone from bad to catastrophic.

A thunderous impact echoed as his body slammed into the ground once more. His thoughts spun wildly as he struggled to rise. His limbs refused him. He tried again. And again.

Nothing.

He focused desperately on his dark core, trying to force it awake. That power was his only hope.

Minutes passed.

Still nothing.

For the first time in a long while, hopelessness wrapped around his chest.

He had faced death countless times. Too many to count. Every time, he had clawed his way out. He had survived. He had won. He had lived.

This time felt different.

He was weaker than both demons. Injured early. Crushed repeatedly.

If his true demon form did not awaken, he would die.

He would really die.

No.

He could not.

He still had to get stronger. Still had to avenge them all.

Still had to get his little brother back.

There was too much left undone.

He could not afford to die here.

But all of that felt unreachable now.

Heavy footsteps echoed.

Gazel forced his eyes open through blood-blurred vision.

There.

Right there. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

The two demons stood untouched. No wounds. No fatigue. Compared to him, they were still whole. Still strong. Still ready to fight.

"Despicable demon," the dark-scaled one roared. "You are an insult to our kind. Just die already."

Its claw shot forward, aimed straight for Gazel’s throat.

Before it could reach him, a small, petite figure stepped in the way.

The blow hit her full force.

Bones crushed. Organs ruptured.

The impact slammed her body into Gazel’s chest, and both of them were sent flying. The dark core in Gazel’s chest, which had barely begun to stir from his earlier attempts, dimmed again.

He crashed headfirst into a collapsing building.

Stone swallowed him.

The young woman lay sprawled on the ground. Her breathing was shallow. Her vision blurred.

Why had she done something so reckless.

The one she sacrificed herself for was not even human.

But even that thought fell apart.

Demon or human, he had saved her. He had fought demons the way she wanted to. Maybe he was a demon, but he was not one of them.

The gray-scaled demon walked closer and lifted her limp body. The golden glow surrounding her flickered weakly, fading fast.

The demon licked its lips hungrily, as if ready to tear her head off and sate its hunger.

Then it stopped.

The other demon froze as well.

They sniffed the air.

A deep frown carved itself across their faces.

The scent was wrong.

Something faint lingered in the air. Suffocating. Alien. They had lived for many years, yet neither of them had ever smelled anything like it.

They followed it.

The scent came from the collapsed building.

A hand burst out from the rubble.

It was sharp. Grotesque. Clawed.

And yet unmistakably human.

The hand clenched into a fist and smashed downward.

The building exploded.

Debris rained down as a figure rose from the dust and stone.

White and black hair whipped violently around him, like he stood in the heart of a storm.

Gazel.

But not the same Gazel.

His eyes were no longer icy blue. They burned crimson, deep and endless, like the pits of hell itself. A single ashen horn curved from his head, glowing faintly under the moonlight.

He flexed his claws slowly, adjusting his stance as if feeling his body for the first time.

Every wound that had torn him apart was gone.

Not healed.

Gone.

He looked new.

And completely different.

Gazel raised his head and locked eyes with the two demons, their full attention now fixed on him.

He smiled.

It was not his usual grin.

This one was wrong.

Twisted.

Terrifying.

Devilish.

"I’ll answer your question," he said calmly. "What you smelled is strange. You only encounter it once in a lifetime."

He took one step forward.

"What you smelled is simple."

His crimson eyes burned brighter.

"You smelled death itself."

TO BE CONTINUED