"They told me you were dead."
Inside the special tent of Gazor's eldest, Azraüs and Nathanaël were served hot drinks in clay cups.
There was nothing particularly special about it; the leader of the Rosia clan seemed to live humbly, and so did his subordinates.
It was the first thing Nathanaël noticed after witnessing their impressive ability to manipulate aura with precision and finesse. They were not attached to luxury or grandeur at all. Yet, each of them performed their task at the right moment and correctly, like a band of disciplined soldiers.
It reminded him of the diligence anduprightness of Zvenne's soldiers outside.
"Sorry, it's not very fancy here in the capital. The warriors fight more than they think about evolving."
Azraël looked very similar to his brother. He was just taller and had no tattoos. His hair was longer, and he also had blue eyes.
It was a perfect physical copy. And though his build was slightly less imposing, his charisma far surpassed anyone Nathanaël had encountered in Nozras. He seemed different.
"I told you I thought you were dead."
"No need to repeat it, I heard you."
Azraël calmly sat on a log and drank from his cup as if nothing had happened, completely ignoring Azraüs' words.
Nathanaël found it strange that for brothers who had not seen each other for a long time, a simple hug could soothe the heart, and immediately afterward, their fraternal relationship resumed.
But for now, he said nothing, letting the conversation focus on what truly mattered.
"Do you want to talk? I know you've never been very chatty, but this seems urgent."
Azraüs could not remain calm, and it was understandable. Among all the people present, he was the only one unaware that his brother was alive.
For him, it had been a shock more than a surprise.
"I see."
But even so, Azraël took his time to speak.
"As you can see, dear little brother, I am not dead."
Azraüs raised an eyebrow, his empathy slowly diminishing.
"Yes, I noticed that, thanks."
However, Azraël paid no mind and continued in the same tone.
"Someone saved my life."
"Who?"
Suddenly, Azraël turned his gaze toward Nathanaël.
"You are one of the six, aren't you?"
Nathanaël gave no sign of surprise. He strangely knew that this man was aware of certain things for the simple reason that…
"You have the book, don't you?"
"Indeed."
However, Azraüs interrupted them.
"Hey, let's talk about you first. Father was devastated. I came here to avenge you and mother."
Azraël remained passive at the mention of his mother's name, but Nathanaël, observing discreetly through his aura, noticed a slight flicker.
"Ah, mother, huh? …I should tell you how it ended for her. Here in the capital, we preserve stories."
A clan member came to take the empty cup Azraël had left. During this brief moment, no one spoke, watching the man discreetly perform his task.
When he left, the conversation resumed.
"Do you… do you know how mother ended?"
Azraël once again turned his gaze toward Nathanaël.
"Yes. But I fear this man is too involved in this story, I…"
However, Azraüs interrupted him.
"It's fine. He's like a brother to me. We could say he replaced you."
Azraël looked at Nathanaël with an empty but rather cunning gaze. As if something terrible lurked within, a plan with no end in sight.
Nathanaël struggled to contain his emotions. He knew that, for better or worse, this man was dangerous.
But Azraël quickly turned his gaze.
"I see. Very well. I will tell you. At the time, father and mother were traveling the world in search of respect and a name to build before going to the capital. But mother was already known; in fact, she was a descendant of Nozras. Because in Nozras, only her descendants inherited the name Obu, meaning King. The Obu were known in the world, but mother was the last of her country. They had died out through battles. Moreover, they mostly came from the capital since Nozras resided there. Their chance of survival was low there, but a branch decided to leave the capital to preserve the line longer. However, it was not enough, as Rita Obu was the last."
Nathanaël listened silently.
"She was disowned by her family because her birth meant the end of Nozras's royal lineage. The Emperor's blood was fading, losing its name. Rita Obu was alone but not desperate. She then set out to conquer the world in her own way and met father along the way. A man named Reno Gazor. Together, they continued their conquest until reaching the capital. No one resisted the duo, and they eventually faced Zvrag for the throne, the leader of the Dan clan, later called the false king."
Nathanaël knew him all too well.
"They then sat on the throne. It is said Rita sat first, and Reno had no choice but to wait his turn. That fateful day left a mark on the capital. However…"
Nathanaël knew that if they reached this point, everything had not gone smoothly.
"Remaining on the throne in Nozras is impossible without a clan. Rebellions arose as soon as they were seated. For days, they fought for victory, but for a reason known much later, Rita withdrew from the battle. Later, it was learned she was pregnant."
Azraüs held his cup tightly, his face turned toward the outside of the tent, silent.
"Reno followed a few days later. Disgusted, but his duty as a father took over. They left the capital to live further away. There, they had two children, whose names I suppose you know. Yet, they remained warriors at heart. Reno often returned to the capital to reclaim his throne but always came back to care for his children. However, one day, he left and never returned. Rita Obu then left her children to find him. The small clan they had formed waited for their return, but when they came back, Reno returned alone. Rita was dead."
Azraüs remembered that day. His father returning like a zombie, walking slowly without looking around. Wounded everywhere, dead inside like a beast who had lost a war. And it was worse than war what he had lost. It was his wife.
"But you probably already knew that. By the way, in the capital, we know how mother died. Her husband had faced numerous clans and warriors for days. Yet, apart from Nozras, no one was invincible, not even the Ogre, Reno Gazor. He was mortally wounded and about to die. It is said his wife intervened, but the duo was no longer as resplendent as before. Time spent away from the battlefield had rusted them. They were no longer the same. And even if they were, no one is immortal. In Nozras, you fight knowing you will probably die. But you fight anyway. They were not invincible, and since he was not, Rita died that day protecting her husband."
Azraüs broke the cup he was holding. Tears ran down his cheeks, but he did not cry. Head bowed, he endured in silence.
Azraël was calmer.
"Please fetch another cup for my brother."
"Right away."
The member hurried off as requested. Azraël sat back calmly and exhaled.
"Good. I continue. That's where I come in. Seeing that father no longer reacted or spoke, I went to the capital myself to discover the truth and, above all… to stop all this. I wanted it to end. I wanted to stop this perpetual massacre in the name of war. Sorry for leaving you behind, Azraüs. Honestly, I hoped to succeed more easily and see you again, but things didn't go as planned."
Azraüs, still with his head down, stared at the floor.
"I… I managed to reach the capital without causing trouble. However, I was not prepared for the inside. I got beaten, and I asked someone to deliver your club with a message. 'Sorry, I couldn't do it.' I was devastated. I had been left for dead, a hole in my abdomen, blood flowing in the middle of the battlefield. I realized the world was not made for me to shine. However, this part should interest you, one of the six."
Nathanaël lifted his head, piqued by curiosity.
"Someone came to save me. It was a strange man. He wore a long black hooded robe covered with many symbols that seemed transparent."
Suddenly, Nathanaël shivered.
The mere thought of the long black robe the man wore made him almost tremble. It had become a sign of bad omen, the imminence of something horrible.
If Azraël had seen it and was still alive, it meant he was no longer the same either. And Nathanaël was sure, nothing good could come from an encounter with this being.
However, the robe the man wore had no symbols. That was the only thing preventing him from drawing his blade on Azraël. He knew nothing, so rushing could worsen things.
But he had to be careful now, because if the other world was connected to this story, bigger problems could arise than expected.
"No one seemed able to see him on the battlefield. I looked at him with the energy I had left, and I saw him handing me a book."
"What?"
"He then said: You seem different from all these warriors with nothing in their heads. I know you wanted to stop all this. You don't care about this so-called code of honor of a warrior. Take this, and you will change the world."
Nathanaël began to feel that something was wrong. He did not even want to believe that the fallen angel was speaking. It could not be him.
"I had no choice, so I took his book, and suddenly, I felt an enormous power take hold of me. I floated in the air as if nothing had happened. I quickly understood the nature of this world and what I had to do. I had already recognized the book I held; it was the book of the man who had passed through Nozras to bring it peace. I believe you know his name, one of the six. Isn't it Lavoisi?"
Nathanaël began to panic. Although he hoped many people were warned of the danger, the fact that a man as dangerous as Azraël was did not reassure him at all.
"In a fraction of a second, a red circle containing strange symbols that I strangely understood decapitated all the warriors in its reach. The others were not difficult to convince. I just had to extend my hand toward them. An identical circle to the one you all saw earlier appeared, and I had control over their minds. I was aware of what this power could give me, and I…"
"Why?"
"Huh?"
"Why haven't you sat on the throne with this yet?"
Azraüs asked, but did not want to hear the answer.
And Azraël took a moment to reply and smiled.
"I wanted you to be there. I wanted you to witness the day when Nozras would finally lose this rage to win. I will reign and avenge mother, I will bring peace to this country, and you… must be there."
However, Azraüs no longer seemed pleased.
"With this monstrous power."
"Oh, seriously, Azraüs. Didn't you want to see me? If this power hadn't saved me, you would never have seen me again. Thank it, and stop clinging to the honor of warriors. Here we are. We will reign. Isn't that what you wanted?"
"I wanted to be the strongest warrior, stronger than Nozras itself."
"Nozras was an idiot, like all the inhabitants of this country. They swear and live only by blood. They kill and kill all day. And even the weakest clans are attacked for this so-called honor. It disgusts me. It disgusts me! Don't you see all this, Azraüs?"
Azraël's calm voice began to change. Where before he had been calm and rational, a slight hint of anger began to resonate in his vocal cords.
"Yes, I see it, and that's also why I wanted to ascend the throne. But the soul of Nozras is in combat and war. You're just going to erase it like that?"
Azraël didn't even take a second to respond. This time, his face was tense, and his gaze piercing. Calm and sincerity had disappeared from his face.
"Yes. Without hesitation, and you will witness it."
The atmosphere began to harden, and the auras in the room churned.
Now Azraüs could see them. He saw his own as he saw his brother's. He couldn't control it, but he saw it. The world gradually opened up to him. His gaze became that of a predator ready to hunt.
Nathanaël could obviously see everything happening around him as well. And although the reunion had been moving, he quickly understood that it had turned sour.
Azraüs looked at his brother. No trace of tears remained on his face. Instead of calm, he was ready. His brother before him was now just prey among many others.
His confused mind sharpened. In no time, the prodigy warrior had made his return.
"Azraël? Are you the strongest?"
Azraël clenched his face in anger. His mastered aura began to crackle with lightning from all directions.
His speech, his entrance, his presence—all indicated a calculating and precise man. And this made Nathanaël think he was similar in this matter. But seeing him, he realized something was missing…
A massive dose of determination.
"What?"
"Are you the strongest, brother?"
Azraël looked at his brother with doubt, unsure if he had given up or not.
"Yes, of course."
And at that moment, a smile as imperceptible as the wind crossed the prodigy's face.
"In that case, draw your weapon."
Azraüs rose slowly and faced his brother, club in hand.
"Because I said I would be the strongest warrior."
"Azraüs…"
"I know the world you want to create is probably fairer and better. But I don't care. I just want to beat you. I will be the next king of Nozras, not you."
"Your warrior's soul won't let go, so…"
"Uh, excuse me."
In this tense moment, Nathanaël still took the time to speak.
"I just need the book. So if you could give it to me, I'll let you settle this between brothers."
The two brothers looked at Nathanaël.
"What are you saying, Nathy? You're family."
"And I can't let you have this book. I read what it contains. The future doesn't look bright, but I still need it. So… HAMMIEL!!"
At least, he tried…
The second-in-command of the Rosia clan appeared in a flash, grabbing Nathanaël and Azraüs by the throat and dragging them outside. He moved so fast that the two young men didn't even have time to react.
Azraël turned silently, taking the book with him.
"Keep them busy. I'm going to the throne."
"Understood."
Nathanaël got up with difficulty after hitting the ground hard.
One thing was certain and he felt it: they wouldn't win easily.
As he had predicted earlier, Hammiel was strong.
However, for once, Nathanaël played along.
"I see. These are just the minions before the final boss."
Azraüs wiped his face and smiled again.
"You ready, Nathy? We're finally approaching the goal."
In an instant, the entire clan positioned themselves around them. Nathanaël was impressed by the coordination. It was almost as perfect as Zvenne's soldiers. He understood why this clan was disliked in the capital.
They really fought differently. Thoughtfully, relying on order and coordination that others lacked. And above all, they used all means to win, including the 'magic' of their leader.
"You shall not pass!!"
And yet, Nathanaël felt something. He felt an old feeling he had suppressed since entering this insane country, fearing he would become like them.
It reminded him of the day facing Jin. He still didn't know why he had advanced…
It was excitement…
He was excited and didn't even understand why…
So, with a wide smile, he stepped forward.
"This, we shall see."