The room was nothing short of exquisite, although it was dimly illuminated by the soft glow of a faint arcane lamp, casting delicate shadows that danced along the richly adorned walls.
"Azrael, time to sleep," called out a soothing voice belonging to a woman with flowing crimson hair and striking crimson eyes that glimmered like rubies as she sat gracefully at the edge of the large, plush bed.
Her presence was accentuated by a black nightgown that draped elegantly over her form, enhancing the warmth of the evening atmosphere.
"Not yet, Mom," the boy replied, his refusal laced with stubborn charm.
Azrael, mirroring his mother's fiery hair with his own familiar crimson locks, lay sprawled on the bed with his head comfortably resting on her soft thighs, clad in black pajamas that hinted at a playful rebellion against settling down.
"Just one more story about the other side, please, Mom," he earnestly pleaded, crafting the most adorable and acute face possible, a visage that could melt anyone's heart.
In a playful act of mock exasperation, his mother placed a hand on her forehead, her features twisting into an amused frown.
"But this is the fourth time you promised that, Azrael," she protested, though the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her serious tone.
The boy, seemingly opting to ignore her reasoning, persisted in his adorable mutterings of "Please, please, please," each repetition coated in a coquetting charm that would soften even the sternest resolve.
With an inevitable gentle sigh, the mother succumbed to his request, fully aware that no loving mother could withstand such an irresistible look, her internal thoughts reflecting a tender understanding of her son's whims.
"Fine, Azrael, you win I'll tell you a story though it's about both sides. But it seems you have an extraordinary amount of spare energy, so it appears I will have to ramp up your training difficulty after this," she asserted, a teasing challenge lacing her voice.
At that moment, Azrael's little form visibly shuddered in response, his eyes widening ever so slightly in response to her playful threat.
Demonstrating his remarkable intelligence for someone so young, he let out a dramatic yawn that echoed throughout the room.
"Hmph, Mom, how about we leave the story for tomorrow night? I'm so sleepy," he said, yawning again as he feigned wiping theatrical tears from his eyes, perfecting the act of a child who was merely pretending exhaustion.
The soft sound of rapid, gentle snoring soon filled the space, yet his mother's sparkling eyes displayed nothing but amusement and mischief, reflecting her fondness for this nightly ritual.
"What a shame it seems; I will have to postpone my story until tomorrow, but truthfully, I don't feel like waiting. Instead, I'll tell the story to the Azrael who is already lost in slumber," she mused, her voice suddenly taking on a richer, more mesmerizing tone.
"Long ago, before your so-called ancestors walked the earth, when nothing except pure Mana existed, first came the stars, vividly born from an immense accumulation of Mana gathering at a singular point." She spoke with a captivating cadence, allowing her words to paint the intricacies of a universe devoid of life.
"Then, the planets emerged, formed from the remnants of dead stars—celestial bodies that had exhausted their supply of Mana. But during those ancient times, the universe remained barren, a vast emptiness," she narrated, glancing down fondly at Azrael, who was now perking up with renewed interest, his tiredness forgotten.
With a voice dripping in whimsical sarcasm, she playfully asked, "I thought the great Azrael was already asleep?" The revelation brought an instant flush of crimson to the boy's cheeks as he fumbled to gather his thoughts for a clever retort.
A light laugh escaped his mother's lips as she continued weaving her tale, Azrael adjusting himself to nestle deeper into the comfort of her thighs.
"So, continuing with my narrative. The universe was shrouded in silence, devoid of life, until..." she paused deliberately, allowing the weight of anticipation to fill the air.
In an unexpected flourish, strands of blood red energy appeared out of nowhere, elegantly suspended and swirling in a graceful display.
They conjured images of bright stars and swirling planets, two colossal stars glowing brilliantly amongst the cosmos. "...Until the two largest stars in the universe collided, igniting a cataclysmic reaction that would forever alter the fabric of existence.
From their catastrophic meeting, life was born—the first plant emerged."
The striking blood imagery depicted the awe-inspiring moment of collision, sending waves of Mana cascading outward, as the stars met their demise to give rise to fertile new ground.
Azrael's visible eye sparkled with wonder, captivated by the magic of the story unfolding before him, as thoughts swirled… .
Modern Day
In the dimly lit room, the soothing sound of soft snoring pervaded the atmosphere as Kael slept soundly on the bed, cocooned beneath snug sheets that covered his entire body, leaving only his head exposed to the gently swaying shadows.
Suddenly, the piercing and relentless blare of an alarm clock shattered the tranquil silence that enveloped the room at precisely 3:00 AM, jolting Kael awake.
Before the clock could register another second's passage, his fist came crashing down upon it, utterly obliterating the device with a muted crunch that resonated within the stillness.
Kael sat up, stretching his well-developed muscles, feeling them tighten smoothly under the motion as he brought his body to life. "That dream again," he muttered, shaking off the hazy memory of his mother's distant voice, a child's echo fading away like a ghost.
He scratched his untamed pink-and-silver hair, its messy strands reflecting the disarray of his thoughts, and then rose to march resolutely into the day ahead, starting his demanding regimen.
Approaching the bathroom, he splashed cold water across his face multiple times, feeling the icy droplets cut through the remnants of sleep that clung to him like a veil.
A few minutes later, Kael firmly locked the door behind him with a resounding thud that echoed in the still air of the house.
He was now clad in a casual white T-shirt and black pants—a simple attire that belied the sheer destructive power coiled within his frame.
Sauntering toward the coffee machine, he simultaneously flicked on the television, eager to catch up on the latest happenings before diving into the rigors of the day ahead.
As the rich aroma of brewing coffee perfumed the room, Kael lethargically flopped onto the sofa, his eyes flickering to the morning news broadcast being presented by Uni Connect Media, a trusted source that usually kept him in the loop about critical developments.
The segment featured a countdown of the top 50 most dangerous bounties in the world, stirring an air of intrigue as he listened.
"Good day, ladies and gentlemen," a black-haired male anchor appeared on screen, his voice steady and polished.
Despite his expensive tuxedo, his face held a cast of forgettability that blended seamlessly with the background.
"So today we are listing out the top 50 bounties in the world. At No. 1, as always, we have the mercenary overlord, Nicholas Daren, known infamously as the world's most heinous criminal, A.K.A. Obsidian Helm," the anchor elaborated as images of a bulky man donned in an obsidian helmet with cold, indifferent green eyes flashed across the screen.
The list droned on, with the anchor's voice unwavering, "At No. 2 we have... And at No. 49, the spotlight shifts to none other than the Ghost, Azrael Von Ashborn."
The camera cut to a picture of a boy who appeared to be between ten and twelve years old, bearing an uncanny resemblance to Azrael with the same familiar crimson hair.
Kael's red eyes narrowed severely at the sight, an unexpected wave of irritation washing over him.
"A lot isn't known about this elusive character," the anchor stated, "but for the most part, we understand that he is remarkably slippery and has managed to elude various experts. Detectives maintain that he should be hiding amid a massive mercenary group. It is notable that he possesses Nether—"
The signal abruptly cut off as Kael swiftly snapped the TV off, the quiet click reverberating in the stillness of the room, his expression one of cold disdain.
He muttered, "So they've increased the bounty, huh?" A frown crossed his lips, pondering the implications of such a public proclamation.
Rising from the sofa, he strode purposefully toward the guest room in the house, a space he had meticulously transformed into his private training chamber.
Upon opening the door, the room greeted him with a bounty of fitness and training equipment of every conceivable type, even specialized rejuvenation substances, all carefully racked and organized.
Five hours later, deeply immersed in his rigorous routine, Kael persisted with relentless pull-ups, now wearing the latest version of weighted training gear—a miraculous metal that could amplify its weight depending on Mana supplied, having been optimized to use the least amount of Mana while maximizing weight increase.
"Two thousand and fifty-six, two thousand and fifty-seven, two thousand and fifty-eight," he muttered in a haze of exertion, his concentration singularly focused on the crushing repetition of his workout.
Suddenly, the persistent and intrusive sound of his mobile phone jolted Kael out of his training daze.
He swiftly grabbed a towel from the nearby rack, wiping the perspiration from his neck as he reached for the phone, glancing at the caller ID that read: Julia.
"Hey, Kael," Julia's brisk and professional voice rang from the other end, breaking through the toned silence of the room, infused with hints of urgency.
"Hey. Did you find a nice one?" Kael replied, his voice gravelly and roughened from the exertion of training.
"Yeah, I stumbled upon a huge one, but I'm not entirely sure if you'll be interested," she responded, her tone enigmatic.
Puzzled by her hesitance, Kael pressed further, "Why not? What's holding you back?"
Julia replied succinctly with just a single word: "Squad."
"Then why even tell me? You know how I feel about squad missions," he said, already moving toward the door, ready to escape the confines of his training quarters.
"I thought you might be intrigued. It's a squad of four, and the pay is a staggering 5,000 credits each. Just think about it," she urged.
As the figure of the massive individual payout pierced through his meticulous calculations, Kael paused for a moment longer, weighing the potential money against the inherent risks involved.
"I'll think about it," he concluded in a low voice, though the wheels in his mind were already turning.
"Think fast. You've only got a few hours," Julia teased, her teasing voice small but infectious, before the line went dead, leaving Kael standing alone in the silent sanctuary of his training room, a host of thoughts racing through his mind.
"Well, I suppose I should go buy some supplies; after all, no one thinks well on an empty stomach," Kael casually remarked to himself as he stepped out of the room, his thoughts still consumed by the tantalizing prospect of the mission that lay ahead.