"Who's there!"
The sudden voice resonating near his ear instantly put Crowley on high alert, his hand instinctively moving toward his card deck.
What materialized before him was a towering figure cloaked in black and crimson, seated regally upon an ornate throne and observing him with unmistakable interest. The mysterious entity's presence radiated an aura of controlled menace that made the air itself seem heavier.
Crowley's expression darkened immediately. Without hesitation, he commanded Meng Po to unleash the blood-yellow waters of the River Lethe against this unexpected intruder.
However, the next moment left him staring in complete disbelief.
Rather than corroding flesh from bone as expected, the mystical waters struck what appeared to be an invisible barrier, splashing harmlessly in all directions. Not a single drop reached its intended target.
The black and crimson figure was naturally Azrael. Witnessing Crowley's immediate hostile response without any attempt at communication, his own expression grew stern behind his transformed visage.
Saber Lily, who had been prepared for release, remained within his consciousness for the moment. Revealing his identity prematurely would compromise the tactical advantage he currently held, especially since Crowley had clearly come here with lethal intentions.
After all, there was no mistaking the murderous intent behind that opening attack. This wasn't a misunderstanding born of fear; this was a calculated attempt at elimination.
Even a clay Buddha possessed some anger when provoked repeatedly. Though Azrael hadn't revealed his true face, he couldn't believe Crowley was blind enough to miss Fubuki standing protectively at his side, an obvious summoned card.
"Tsk. If only there wasn't surveillance watching."
Azrael's gaze flickered momentarily toward the monitoring devices positioned throughout the area. Without those mechanical witnesses, his options would be considerably broader and far more permanent.
The court undoubtedly knew about his support mission to Empyrean Gardens Community, after all, both the court and the Lore Cardian Master Association had jointly issued the assignment. Even if he eliminated Crowley here and now, the investigation would inevitably trace back to him.
In the wilderness, away from prying eyes and political complications, Crowley would already be a corpse.
The blood-yellow waters of the River Lethe continued their futile assault against Azrael's position.
But under Fubuki's masterful telekinetic manipulation, every attack proved utterly meaningless. The swirling barriers of psychic force deflected each wave with almost casual ease.
Perhaps Fubuki's offensive capabilities weren't overwhelming, but her defensive prowess exceeded anything Azrael had witnessed thus far. Even Jacob's knight-class cards from their previous encounters couldn't match this level of protective capability.
Meanwhile, Unohana Retsu stepped forward, her voice beginning the melodic cadence of a binding spell.
The shadow of a circular structure manifested behind her as rapid incantations filled the street, sending premonitory chills down Crowley's spine. Every instinct screamed of approaching danger.
In the next heartbeat, dark coffins materialized around both Crowley and his Meng Po, encasing them in restrictive barriers.
Just as countless spectral blades prepared to pierce through the enclosure, the shadow prison shattered explosively. Torrents of blood-yellow water erupted outward, forming a protective maelstrom around Crowley's position.
Crowley's face had gone ashen with genuine terror. For the first time in years, he truly believed death was imminent.
That overwhelming survival instinct forced him to abandon any thoughts of silencing witnesses. Instead, he found himself desperately seeking reconciliation with his mysterious opponent. The endless humiliation of this reversal began eating away at his pride like acid.
"...Azrael?"
Crowley hadn't actually mistaken the formidable figure before him for some otherworldly demon. His initial attack had been driven purely by desperation, a panicked attempt to eliminate potential witnesses before his recent failures became public knowledge.
Now that combat had ceased, he found the black and crimson entity strangely familiar. Not only had this mysterious protector shielded the worthless civilians behind him, but the figure had called out his name with disturbing familiarity.
A certain possibility flashed through Crowley's mind like lightning striking twice.
"Indeed, it's me."
The hoarse, electronically distorted voice confirmed his suspicions as the dark transformation dissolved, revealing Azrael's expressionless features beneath.
Seeing Crowley's cessation of hostilities, Azrael also found his justification for continued aggression evaporating. Crowley might deserve elimination, but he couldn't ignore the broader consequences. Killing the other man here would only create difficulties for Master Lucian.
"If only I were also a master-class Lore Cardian."
Upon recognizing that face, Crowley's own expression cycled rapidly through a dozen emotions before settling on cold fury as he spat out, "So it's you."
Though Crowley's features remained composed, his heart churned with absolute chaos. How could it be him? How is this possible?
Jealousy writhed through his consciousness like a venomous serpent seeking vulnerable flesh.
After all, their last separation hadn't occurred that long ago. The most recent card he'd successfully created was that previous Meng Po summoning.
Yet the Azrael standing before him now commanded several obviously Silver-tier cards. The black-clad figure who had effortlessly defended against his assault stood respectfully at attention, along with that pigtailed woman whose barrier techniques had proven impenetrable.
According to his spiritual perception, both entities registered as genuine Silver-level summons.
Counting his rejection by Master Lucian, that previous defeat, and now this humiliating confrontation, he had lost to Azrael three consecutive times.
The crimson and black aura flowed smoothly back around Azrael's form like liquid shadow. "It appears you haven't forgotten me."
Hearing this mocking observation, Crowley couldn't prevent his hands from clenching into white-knuckled fists.
How could he possibly forget the person responsible for his first taste of genuine defeat? The individual who had shattered his lifelong streak of uncontested victories?
After a prolonged silence, Crowley asked through gritted teeth, "Who sent you here?"
Azrael casually displayed his mobile device. "Support mission."
"Tsk. Unnecessary." Learning that Azrael had responded to an official support request, Crowley's lips curved in undisguised disdain.
Nothing more than those worthless civilians getting trapped and someone reporting the situation to authorities, resulting in Azrael's deployment here.
Azrael couldn't suppress a cold chuckle at this response. "If I hadn't arrived, everyone would be dead by now, wouldn't they?"
Having his abandonment of duty exposed so publicly, Crowley's expression grew dark as storm clouds. After an extended pause, he finally managed, "Whatever."
Azrael fixed Crowley with a gaze devoid of any warmth, then delivered his coup de grace, "No wonder Master Lucian refused to accept you as his disciple."
Truth cuts deeper than any blade ever forged.
The intelligence gathered from Fredrika proved invaluable in this critical moment.
Upon hearing Azrael's words, Crowley's eyes widened to their absolute limits. His face flushed crimson with rage and humiliation while his teeth ground together audibly, yet ultimately he remained speechless.
"Tsk."
Azrael's contemptuous sneer echoed through the devastated street.
Throughout this tense exchange, the young lackey beside Crowley had been trembling with barely contained terror, not daring to utter a single word.
From his perspective, anyone capable of speaking to Young Master Crowley in such a manner represented power that could crush him with a casual gesture, not merely in terms of raw strength, but social influence as well.
Being a competent subordinate required understanding when to remain invisible. Sometimes speaking up for one's employer without proper consideration proved catastrophically unwise.
This was definitely a moment for maintaining absolute silence and praying for invisibility.
Meanwhile, the ordinary citizens behind them experienced overwhelming relief and gratitude.
Anyone who survived such a deadly encounter would naturally feel thankful toward their unexpected savior.
Furthermore, seeing a obviously powerful Lore Cardian who maintained open conflict with their previous irresponsible escort filled them with cautious hope.
"Master? Are we permitted to leave now?"
Someone within the crowd gathered enough courage to ask hesitantly.
Hearing this, Azrael turned toward the civilians and nodded decisively. "Let's move. I'll escort you to the designated shelter."
The Empyrean Gardens Community residents released collective sighs of relief and began following Azrael toward safety with renewed obedience.
While passing Crowley's position, his expression remained thunderously dark, and none of them dared draw breath too loudly.
Watching the crowd disappear into the distance, the young lackey contemplated the situation before asking in subdued tones, "Young Master Crowley, what are our next instructions?"
Crowley's breathing gradually steadied as he forced himself toward calm. "We're going home!"
In that moment, he had completely forgotten his father's explicit warnings about avoiding conflict with Azrael.
After everything that had transpired here, the relationship between them had deteriorated beyond any possibility of reconciliation.
Naturally, Azrael understood this development just as clearly as Crowley.
"Tsk. I need to find a way to eliminate him permanently."
"Should I contact the Crimson Oath Society?"
Azrael began calculating the feasibility of requesting assistance from that particular organization for this growing problem.