The Slayer Ascension: Cursed and Blessed.-Chapter 39: One way Forward

Chapter 39

Ashiro was a man who had witnessed too much in his lifetime. Things that would break others, twist them, leave them hollow. To him, most of it barely registered. Very little in this world could still move him. Saying nothing could shake him would not even be an exaggeration.

But right now, he was shaken to his core.

Not by fear. No. Fear was beneath him.

What troubled him was what he was seeing with his own eyes.

The young demon he had been seconds away from killing was glowing. A faint but unmistakable golden light wrapped around the boy’s battered body, seeping from torn flesh and shattered bones.

Azura.

The sign of a blessed soul.

Not cursed. Not tainted.

Blessed.

Ashiro’s grip tightened.

Impossible.

The healing was far too fast. Even for a blessed one, this made no sense. The boy had not awakened his essence. He had not formed a core. At that stage, regeneration like this should be impossible. Flatly impossible.

That alone screamed demon. A trick. A deception.

His instincts roared red.

But another part of him whispered no.

Azura came in many forms. Many paths. Many potentials. Who said the boy’s blessing had nothing to do with healing? Who said it could not manifest early, violently, unnaturally?

Ashiro frowned.

It didn’t matter.

He could not kill someone who was clearly blessed. The pure energy radiating from the boy’s body was undeniable. And in the current state of the world, every hand mattered. Killing a potential future ally because of assumptions would be stupidity, not caution.

With a sharp exhale, Ashiro retracted his dagger.

Decision made.

Reaching into the pouch strapped to his side, he pulled out a small glass bottle. Inside it swirled a silvery green liquid, faintly luminous, alive in its own way.

He crouched down until he was eye level with the young demon.

No.

The young blessed.

"Open your mouth."

Gazel was not a fool.

How could he trust the man who had been dead set on killing him moments ago? For all he knew, this was poison. Something worse than poison. The white haired freak could kill him however he wanted. That much was clear.

One part of Gazel wanted to believe the stranger had changed his mind. That he wanted to keep him alive.

The other part screamed otherwise.

Gazel looked at Ashiro warily, about to force his shredded mouth to politely refuse.

Then he saw the man’s face.

Or rather, the lack of expression on it.

No anger. No mercy. Just that same calm eeriness. Cold. Absolute. The kind of calm that spoke of danger far more than rage ever could.

Gazel shivered.

He swallowed, or tried to. Even that small motion sent pain screaming through him.

This freak... his face alone was terrifying.

Gazel’s eyes drifted to the glass bottle now open and hovering near his mouth.

Summoning every shred of will he had left, Gazel shook his head.

He would not drink it.

Not something that could be poison. Not something that could do something worse than death. He refused.

But before he could even finish the motion, a hand clamped onto his head.

Strong. Unyielding.

His jaw was forced open.

Liquid poured in.

It tasted like water.

No. Better than water.

Pure. Cool. Cleaner than anything he had ever tasted in his life. It flowed down his throat, soothing and overwhelming all at once.

The sensation was so intense it almost felt good.

Too good.

Gazel’s vision blurred.

The world tilted.

He felt light.

Weightless.

"I’m fainting..." he thought.

No.

He was losing consciousness.

His heart began to race wildly, pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest. Panic surged.

"I’m dying."

No.

No.

I knew it.

Gazel thought bitterly as his consciousness began to slip. He was going to kill me after all.

His vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges, but Gazel refused to let it end like this. His fingers twitched, his palm stretching out on instinct.

The dagger responded.

The knife like weapon flew into his hand.

With a broken roar, Gazel swung.

He knew it was pointless. He knew he could not kill Ashiro. The man would not die so easily. But dying without striking back felt worse than death itself. His soul would never rest.

Ashiro leaned slightly, dodging the slash with ease.

But Gazel was not done.

His wrist flipped.

The knife shot forward, spinning straight for Ashiro’s face.

At that distance, at that speed, no one would expect him to escape unscathed.

Yet just before the blade reached his eye, Ashiro’s hand snapped up.

He caught it.

Barehanded.

The blade froze inches from his face.

Gazel’s body trembled violently. His consciousness slipped faster now, draining away as he watched his final struggle amount to nothing. His killer still stood. Untouched. Unmoved.

"I failed..."

He tried to stand.

A cool slap landed across his face.

Darkness took him completely.

Ashiro straightened, tossing the knife aside. The weapon clattered against the ground, its endurance far beyond what a kitchen knife should possess.

Interesting.

His gaze shifted to the obsidian ring on Gazel’s finger.

At least high grade.

A kid carrying something like that meant one thing.

His background was not simple.

Ashiro looked down at the overly dramatic boy and sighed. Should he leave him here? Or wait for him to wake up and explain what he needed to know?

Before he could decide, the boy mumbled something in his unconscious state.

Ashiro paused.

He leaned in slightly, listening.

When the words registered, his eye twitched.

"...white freak... I will kill you... I promise..."

Ashiro sighed softly.

"This is going to be a long night."

Hours later.

Gazel stood atop the Trystan Manor, blue eyes locked on the sky.

The moon loomed above him, its golden glow slowly retracting, peeling away layer by layer. More than half of it was already gone, leaving behind a pale, pure white brilliance.

Gazel himself was different.

His injuries were gone. Completely healed.

As much as he wanted to claim it was his own doing, he knew better. It had something to do with that strange liquid. The bottle the white haired freak had forced him to drink.

Speaking of the white haired freak.

Ashiro had been the one to break him. Then restore him. Spare his life. Label him something Gazel had never heard before.

Blessed.

At first, Gazel had been confused. The word meant nothing to him. But the stranger explained enough. Not everything. Never everything.

There were beings called Shurals.

They wielded a power known as Azura.

And Gazel possessed it.

Questions piled up faster than answers. When Gazel pushed, Ashiro shut him down with a single sentence.

"When you reach the Bulwark, you will get your answers."

That was all.

Gazel raised his hand and stared at the badge resting in his palm. The symbol of a golden spear crossed with a shield gleamed faintly in the moonlight.

This was supposed to be his entry badge.

As long as he made it to the Bulwark, the gate would open for him. The Bulwark stood at the farthest reach of the Ayde Kingdom, a place whispered about with equal parts reverence and fear.

Gazel stared at the badge and weighed his options.

If he went to the Bulwark, he would become a Shural. That meant fighting demons. It also meant exposure. The risk that his secret would finally be dragged into the light.

The only reason he was still alive was because that Shural, the white haired freak, had believed him. Believed he was not a demon. Believed wrong.

If Gazel went there, his true identity would be tested, peeled apart layer by layer. If it was exposed, death would not be a possibility.

It would be a certainty.

But staying behind was no safer.

Demons were hunting the blessed. Staying put would only make him suspicious. Suspicious enough to give that freak the perfect excuse to kill him himself.

Either way, the risk was enormous.

Either way, he was walking toward death.

And he had only until sunrise to decide.

Gazel stood there, alone, turning the choice over and over in his mind. Pros. Cons. Lies. Truths. He thought as long as he could.

Yet even through all the doubt, he knew.

Without a single shred of uncertainty.

His goal had never changed.

To become stronger.

Strong enough to chase his dreams. Strong enough to carve his revenge. Strong enough to take back his little brother.

There was only one path that gave him that chance.

The faster path.

The sun finally rose.

Warm light spilled over the land, washing over Gazel’s face. He slowly lifted his head, a wild yet controlled grin spreading across his lips.

"I guess we’re becoming a Shural then," he muttered, staring into the distance.

To be continued...