NOVEL WEB 41 Pent-up anger
"In a world of hatred, anger, and fear, no one’s going to win." — Mark Ruffalo
Azar seethed with frustration, his thoughts spiraling. Scum, trash, lowlifes. That's what all of you are. He punched the stone wall beside him, the impact vibrating up his arm. If Tora had stayed at the top, people like you would not roam freely, he raged inwardly. But even with the pain searing through his knuckles, the anger simmered, refusing to subside.
In his newly rented room at the Gentle Breeze Inn, Azar tried to meditate, tried breathwork to calm himself, yet his restless thoughts burned hotter with each attempt. Giving up, he slipped back out into the evening streets, his appearance altered once more, the mask melding into his features.
A cold walk would clear his mind, he told himself, though he knew it was a lie. He wasn’t here to walk off frustration; he was searching for a target, someone who could withstand his pent-up wrath.
Pressing his forehead against a stone wall, Azar let its rugged, icy surface anchor him in the present. He mentally reviewed his options. Striking the other two shops won’t work right now; I lack the strength and the preparation. Risking my only chance for a reckless act? Out of the question. He grimaced. But if I can’t target a shop, perhaps some of the city’s less savory residents will suffice.
"Hiii." A twisted grin curled at his lips. A little release might be just what I need.
For some reason, this realization brought pleasure to his heart, it excited him in an unusual way.
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, where should i head to?" Azar asked himself, looking around for a direction. He set off along the main street, its length stretching further than his eyes could follow.
With nightfall, the older citizens and children of Harmin City were retreating indoors, while younger groups ventured out to socialize. City patrols were also increasing as the night shift began. Azar walked among them, his youthful face blending in well enough, yet his intense gaze wasn’t seeking friends or a night’s companion; he was hunting for a suitable mark, one he could dispose of without raising an alarm.
Without a cloaking technique, a flux-weaver's cultivation is detectable to those of the same level or higher, he reminded himself. But those weaker than me? They won’t know what hit them.
Trapped in his thoughts, Azar's attention snagged on a man with a scorpion tattoo on his neck, heading in the opposite direction. Azar blinked, but nothing changed, the tattoo wasn't a mirage. He turned his head after the man, then his body, and followed close.
The scorpion tattoo—the mark of the Scorpion’s Order. ...Seems like the Void Systems loves me tonight.
Following the man without a care in the world, Azar’s fluxolit pulsed, a soft blue light flickering across his wrist.
Notification? He opened the device on his forearm guard, a new mission flashing across the holographic screen.
[New Mission Received!]
Mission Name: Covering Tracks
Mission Grade: Common
Description: Burn five corpses at night in Harmin City
Time Limit: 24 hours
Rewards:
7 Copper Kryth (₭C)
1 Brown Tunic
1 Bottle of Gofo Wine
[Accept Mission?]
[Yes] [No]
Azar scoffed. I don’t need a bonfire lighting up the city. He selected "No" with a dry smile.
As he continued shadowing the scorpion-marked man, they entered a quiet part of the city with barely a soul around. Azar judged it to be a promising location for his purposes and activated his [World Seeing Eye] technique to scan for potential witnesses. His pulse quickened as he sensed four additional figures waiting in the shadows.
The man with the tattoo stopped in the middle of the narrow street, turning around to face Azar. "This job really isn’t for you, kid," he sneered. "You’re terrible at tailing people."
At his words, four others emerged from nearby doorways, surrounding Azar with practiced precision.
"Who’s this, Rolph? Instead of bringing goods, you've brought a tail?" one of them asked, his gaze assessing.
"Shut up," Rolph replied. "What was i supposed to do with him?"
"Are you a fortune soldier, kid?" the man sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.
Azar tilted his head. "I’m unfamiliar with the term."
"Right," another thug butt in. "And you just happened to tail a stranger through empty alleys because you’re… lost?"
Azar’s gaze darted between them, sizing up each one’s cultivation rank. He smirked. Perfect. Even though most of them were at the Bellator Class.
Azar scoffed, feigning disbelief. “No, of course not. Who’d be stupid enough to do something like that?” His gaze swept over the group with an amused glint. “I followed him because of that tattoo on his neck. I’m in a foul mood, and just as I was looking for someone to vent on, this guy passed by. Talk about luck, huh?” He chuckled, tilting his head. “Funny thing, though—I just turned down a mission to burn five corpses. Pretty sure those corpses were supposed to be yours. Almost like the system knew.”
“He’s drunk,” someone muttered, glancing warily at Azar. He grabbed a bead from his bracelet, infusing it with his flux.
“More like drugged,” Rolph corrected, eyes narrowing as he signaled to his crew.
Without warning, the man activating his technique, lunged forward, fingers elongated into talons, glistening with a sickly green aura. Azar flinched, releasing three of the flying knives in his storage ring before dealing with the attacker. He raised his forearm guard just in time to block the swipe, slamming an elbow into the attacker’s face, though it was blocked.
Another thug pulled out a neon reaver pistol, aiming at Azar’s torso. Around him, more beads flared to life as the group prepared their own attacks.
The clawed man attempted to back away to give his comrades room, but Azar anticipated the move. With a well-timed [Pulse] from his foot, he drove a kick between the man’s legs. As his opponent buckled, the gunman fired off a rapid sequence of neon blasts.
Azar knew that even the body of a Bellator Class flux-weaver was unable to resist a shot from that gun, so without any restraint, he used his current best defense, a barrier made solely from mental power.
His instincts taking over, Azar summoned a force shield to block the shots. It hold for the first and second, but on the third, the shield shattered, neon energy breaking through. Not trusting even his own defense, Azar used another [Pulse] into his legs, hurtling himself out of the gunman’s line of sight before he could get shot.
Pulse? Rolph’s face twisted in surprise. He sure couldn't use that technique in such a way.
“Riad Blast!” The golden rings materialized around Rolph's hand flung forward as heavy projectiles.
Azar avoided them with his rapid movement. And just as the rings tore through the wall of a house, a black knife inserted itself deep into Rolph's thigh as retaliation.
The rest of the released knives also found their targets despite the chaos. One pierced the gunman’s side, causing him to stagger back.
A dagger user intercepted Azar's movement, swinging with deft precision. The blade flashed upwards in a slashing arc, but Azar reacted with a quick [Pulse] from his palms, deflecting the knife with a sharp strike to the man’s wrist.
The thug pressed close, obscuring Azar’s vision and hindering his movements with his free hand, while the others closed in. Sensing a deadly attack, Azar forced another [Pulse] through his legs to push himself backward, narrowly avoiding a blue arrow that whizzed past his face. Reflexively, he created another force shield just as the dagger-wielder exhaled a toxic vapor.
Azar prepared to reengage the relentless thug when a sharp, burning pain seared through his abdomen—a shot from the neon reaver had found its mark.
Damn it. Gritting his teeth, Azar didn’t let up, even as the pain flared.
Not knowing the gravity of the injury as he wasn't given the time to assess it, he caught the dagger wielder’s gaze for a moment. As the man faltered, Azar made his move. His clawed hand driving into his opponent’s abdomen with brutal force.
Tiger’s Bite! Azar intoned silently, flooding the man’s body with chaotic energy.
Landing the hit, Azar continued to move, jumping to the ground as a neon reaver's shot echoed again.
"Flowing sand!" another thug activated a technique, but Azar’s knife intercepted him, embedding deep into his neck and cutting off the control.
Rolph, clutching his thigh in agony, abandoned the thought of channeling his flux into the beads of his bracelet as the pain stopped him from focusing and drew his own neon reaver, firing wildly in Azar’s direction.
With a quick [Pulse] from his palms, Azar was back to his feet, pulling the dagger-wielder in front of him as a human shield. The thug managed to cut Azar's shoulder before he was restrained by mental power.
“This is not how fighting should be done!” Azar shouted in anger as his knives flew forth, finishing off the man with the gun and embedding in Rolph’s forearm, forcing him to drop his pistol.
“Die!” The clawed man launched a final attack from Azar’s blindside, but Azar thrust his hands out, a surge of mental power hurling the attacker backward, crushing into a stone wall. Wincing from dizziness, Azar activated [Pulse] in his feet, propelling himself forward to where the man lay stunned.
“Tiger’s Bite!” he whispered, ignoring the correct energy flow of the technique as he directed his clawed hand at the thug’s chest, leaving him motionless. Azar then retrieved the single blade, green sword of the aero element from his storage ring. He drove it into the man’s heart, silencing him forever.
In the middle of the street, Rolph’s agonized cries grated on Azar’s nerves. Jaw clenched, annoyed by the screams, Azar pulled out his sword and walked limping toward the cause of the noise. Rolph fumbled desperately for his gun, but with a flick of sword, Azar sent an energy blade that severed Rolph’s hand at the wrist. Squatting beside him, Azar met his gaze, piercing into his memories.
The commotion had alerted the citizen's around, many of them watching the gruesome scene from behind the windows. None of them dared to come out of their houses.
"You're dead meat." Ralph gritted his teeth when Azar ended the mind connection after a few moments. "My sect won't let you live peacefully."
Enduring the headache, Azar grabbed the bloody reaver and shot Ralph with his own gun, multiple times, even after he died.
"May the void guide your spirits to the purgatory," Azar said, finding support in his sword as he got up. “Gather the guns. Forget the orbs unless they hold value," he instructed as the shadows flickered near his feet. Two tall, muscular creatures emerged, his silent shadowfolk guardians received as a parting gift from Azaumir.
Azar limped toward a nearby house. Forcing the door wide open, he made his way in as if he had lived there. Stopping before one of the closed rooms, he slashed with his sword, the door cracking open beneath the precise energy cuts.
Inside, huddled in a corner, were two boys. The older one with fresh bruises on his face was shielding his younger brother. Seeing that, and knowing what had happened, Azar's heart filled with two opposing emotions. One was the hope for the future generation, while the other was the desire to exert punishment on those who laid a finger on something so sacred as a child's innocence.
Slowly limping toward the kids, careful not to scare them, Azar inserted his sword into the floor and knelt down before them.
“You have my respect, kiddo,” Azar said, his tone serious as he lowered his head. “Do you have family? A mother, a father, someone who takes care of you?” he asked after a few moments of silence, forcing a gentle smile as the brown eyes of his appearance shed a tear.
The older boy nodded hesitantly.
Rising to his feet with difficulty, Azar sensed his shadowfolk returning to his side. He took a deep, steadying breath, addressing the boys with as much warmth as he could muster.
“I took care of the people who hurt you. Time to go home now.” He led the way out.