A boy with black hair and striking red eyes stood out, dressed in a sleek black coat that seemed to blend with the shadows. His intense gaze, matched by the mysterious aura around him, made him appear both enigmatic and captivating.
The boy swung his axe, hoping to end the fight with the humanoid wolf-like monster. But just before the blade could make contact, the creature swiftly ducked and landed a powerful sidekick to his stomach.
The force of the kick sent him stumbling back a few steps, gasping for breath. Despite the pain, he managed to regain his footing and stood his ground, determined not to let the monster overpower him.
"Hah, looks like I need to bring out my trump card," the black-haired boy muttered to himself.
As he spoke, his crimson irises shifted to a deep purple, and suddenly, bolts of purple lightning began raining down, causing the entire area to tremble as if struck by a full-scale earthquake.
The boy's usual demeanour turned icy and cold, his focus sharp as he extended his hand toward the monster, pointing his index finger at it.
In that instant, a bolt of purple lightning shot from his fingertip, striking the creature with the speed and force of a bullet.
Near the spot where the monster should have been dead, there was smoke and the lighting stopped moving.
But when the smoke cleared, the boy noticed something that really startled him. The magic appeared to have worked, but it was unable to complete the monster since he was gasping for air.
The monster's eyes conveyed how enraged they were. The monster sprinted—no, blurred—in the direction of the boy before he could even respond.
The creature lifted its right hand, trying to kill the boy with its enormous, expanding claws. It was too late when the boy attempted to dodge.
The wolf-like creature had already dug its claw through the boy's thorax. His blood began gushing wildly from the cut.
The boy began to falter, his energy drained from the prolonged battle. His movements had slowed as he parried, ducked, and blocked the monster's relentless attacks, each action becoming more sluggish with exhaustion.
The monster, noticing the boy's weakening state, began to unleash heavier, more powerful blows.
Just as it seemed the end was near, the black-haired boy suddenly vanished from sight.
The monster paused, confused, trying to decipher where he had gone.
Unbeknownst to the creature, the boy had used [Thieves Steps], a skill that rendered him invincible for a short period. In the blink of an eye, the black-haired figure reappeared behind the monster.
The boy conjured a dagger out of thin air, its blade gleaming in the dim light. With swift precision, he gripped the weapon tightly, ready to strike as the monster remained unaware of his move.
He swung his dagger at an unnatural speed towards the monster's...
The sound of *thud* echoed through the whole area clarifying the boy's victory.
The hooded figure in the boy's peripheral vision spoke up, his voice laced with amusement. "Looks like you've improved since last time, Vanitas," he remarked, a hint of approval in his tone as he observed the boy's progress.
***
I stepped out of the carriage and gazed forward, taking in the sight of a massive and luxurious medieval mansion. It was my mansion—or rather, the House of Fateweaver. I made my way toward the door, where several maids were bowing in welcome.
"Master, the young master is waiting for your presence," a butler said with a respectful tone.
He was tall, with a stern yet courteous demeanour, his dark suit immaculately pressed, and his silver spectacles catching the light as he bowed slightly. How lovely and cute my son must be, eager to see me.
I quickened my pace toward his room, anticipation building in my chest. But before I entered, I remembered the gift I had brought for him.
I turned toward my chamber and picked up a delicate necklace from the bedside table. It was meant for Azrael.
The necklace had a small, openable compartment that held a picture of a handsome man with snowy white hair and piercing blue eyes.
How narcissistic of me, I thought with a faint smile.
On the other side was a picture of a little boy who looked exactly like me, though with striking grey eyes. I closed the necklace, sliding it into my pocket, and resumed my walk toward Azrael's room.
***
As I entered the room, the first thing that caught my eye was a cute child playing with a maid who appeared to be in her twenties.
The moment they recognized my presence, both turned to look in my direction. Azrael's eyes lit up with excitement at my arrival, and the maid let him go as he ran toward me, trying to jump into my arms.
I fully reciprocated, pulling him close as he eagerly showered me with countless kisses.
"Papa, where were you? I waited for you all this time," my adorable son said, his eyes brimming with tears.
I sighed and gently stroked his hair. "I'm sorry, Az. You know how busy Papa is," I said before pausing to reach into my pocket. Pulling out a small necklace, I held it up in front of him.
"But look, I got you this." Without hesitation, Azrael quickly snatched it from my hand, examining it with pure curiosity.
This little brat.
As I watched him, I noticed the maid approaching us. She was like a mother figure to Azrael.
Our family had a strange tradition of ensuring that children were born early so that if the head of the family passed away, the son could immediately take over
Since I never had a girlfriend or a wife, I had to donate my semen, and that was how Azrael was born.
Once, I asked my father, the previous head, about Azrael's mother, but he dismissed the question.
"You don't need to know. She's no one important," he had said.
I eventually let the matter go and instead focused on raising my son.
Now, as always, I entrusted Azrael to the care of Sophie, the maid standing before me, knowing she would look after him well.