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Chapter 4 - Death's Blossom

The last place Azriel expected to find himself... was Europe.

Of all the continents, it was the worst.

Outside of the North, nearly all of Europe had become a death zone.

"You have to be joking with me, right!?"

"Not even Redo can save me here!"

Sure, Redo granted a second chance—but only one.

And Azriel was certain: just spending a single day in the middle of Europe would be enough to get him killed. Not once. Multiple times. The creatures that roamed here weren't the kind you escaped from.

Maybe the God of Death wasn't as generous as he'd first believed.

He could already picture the deity cackling above him—cloaked in a tattered black robe, his face veiled in dark mist, gripping a long, jagged scythe in one skeletal hand.

Or maybe the laughter came from below.

As if on cue, thunder cracked behind the heavy grey clouds shrouding the city.

"Dammit! I really need to get awa—"

Azriel froze.

A low, guttural howl echoed from behind him, crawling down his spine like ice.

He turned slowly, dread rising.

At the far end of the street stood five creatures.

Wolves—but wrong. So very wrong.

Their pitch-black eyes locked onto him, unblinking. Their bodies, stripped of fur, revealed rotting flesh stretched tight across scarred and blistered muscles. Some patches had decayed to the bone. The inside of their cheeks hung loose, exposing blackened gums and yellow teeth. Saliva dripped from their gaping maws, splattering onto the cracked pavement.

The stench hit him like a wall, and Azriel swallowed down the bile that surged in his throat.

'…Why couldn't I have been sent into a rom-com world, dammit!?'

Screaming internally, he focused mana into his eyes, activating a basic scan—probing the creatures' cores.

"Three of them are Grade 3 Beasts... one's Grade 2... and that last one—Grade 1. Beast"

The Grade 1 Beast had only a single eye. The empty socket where the other should've been made it even more grotesque.

Azriel exhaled.

They were technically weaker than him.

Technically.

But his body felt heavy. Drained. His mind sluggish. The last time he fought a void creature had been over two years ago.

And before all of this... he had just been a high school student.

A tired, grieving, average kid.

'Calm down, Le—Azriel… I'm stronger now. I'm not that boy anymore. I'm stronge—'

"Eek!"

A high-pitched squeal escaped him as the wolves began to step forward.

"A-ah... You won't hurt me, right?"

"You guys are good little p-puppies… right?"

Two of the Grade 3 beasts lunged.

'Guess not!'

A katana materialized in his right hand, its blade pitch black, devoid of any color as if consumed by darkness itself. The hilt was adorned with intricate patterns of black and red.

Void Eater.

The katana his father had gifted him...

His very own soul weapon that grows stronger the more he does, unlike the other ranked weapons.

The appearance of mana changed everything on Earth. Mana stones became a reality, leading to the creation of stronger structures and more powerful weapons.

A weapon created by mana stones could be empowered by one's own mana, resulting in it being able to be wielded by, for example, a master-ranked human.

Of course, a master-ranked human won't be able to handle or wield the weapon of a saint, and the weapon of an expert would simply break if wielded by a master-ranked human, making it expensive for many humans to become heroes since they needed to buy a new weapon each time they ranked up.

Luckily for those who have a soul weapon, they don't have that problem.

Perhaps due to all the training he underwent as Azriel, ingrained in his mind, he instinctively positioned Void Eater in front of him just in time as the first void wolf bit down on it, causing sparks to fly.

Luckily, being a Grade 3 Intermediate, his sword was also far stronger than the sharp teeth of a mere Grade 3 beast.

He kicked the wolf with his right leg, sending it flying back towards the other void wolves who were watching.

As he spun to his left, he felt mana coursing through his veins from his mana core.

"[Frost Wall]!" he shouted towards the second Grade 3 wolf lunging at him.

Moments later, a wall of ice emerged between Azriel and the approaching beast.

His heart thumped loudly against his chest as adrenaline surged through him.

"I am Azriel," he breathed. "Not Leo anymore. But…"

He paused.

"No. That's not right."

"I'm not just Azriel… nor just Leo."

"I am both."

"I'm not an extra. I'm not the forgotten boy who lost his family."

"I'm not the plot device that died so the protagonist could win the heroine's heart."

"I am—"

"Azriel Crimson."

A name that would no longer be forgotten.

A force that wouldn't be written off.

The ice wall shattered.

All three Grade 3 beasts charged at once, their fangs gleaming, mouths gaping, breath reeking of rot and death.

Their black eyes burned with hunger.

And yet—Azriel's mind cleared.

Perfect stillness.

Time slowed.

A calm deeper than silence settled over him.

And with it came a rush.

More than just instinct.

Memories.

Understanding.

Mastery.

Red lightning crackled around him. Black mist seeped from his mouth, snaking up his arms and toward his blade.

The lightning and mist coiled together—fusing—surging toward Void Eater.

And then—

"First Form: Death's Blossom."

The void wolves were inches from him.

He vanished.

In a blur of motion, he reappeared behind them—closer now to the Grade 2 and Grade 1 beasts.

Behind him, the red lightning danced like fireflies.

The black mist bloomed.

Petal-shaped tendrils of shadow curled in the air like roses—eerie, ethereal, and beautiful—crackling with red lightning as they faded into nothing.

Void Eater hummed in his hand.

A moment later, the sound of three bodies hitting the ground.

Azriel turned.

The wolves lay still, blood spraying from their severed necks.

Lifeless.

His red eyes stared blankly.

Empty.

Emotionless.

And then—

-----------------------------

Status Update!

-----------------------------

First Form Acquired!

[Sword Arts]: Dance of Death → 5% Mastery [1/?]

→ [First Form]: Death's Blossom

-----------------------------

The sudden update snapped him out of the haze.

He blinked, then glanced back—at the corpses.

And forward—at the remaining two.

The Grade 2 and Grade 1 beasts stood motionless, watching.

He could swear he saw it in their black, soulless eyes—

Fear.

Azriel glanced between them.

One thought echoed in his mind.

"…What just happened?"

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