Blood tickled down Azreal's lips, he used his dual blades as a scissors to stop a thick metal weapon which was lodged into his side.
With the momentum stopped he jumped far away from the Guardian, Azreal dropped to his knees, blood streamed endlessly down his carved torso.
" Alright, it's time to get serious " he said carrying a bit of annoyance in his voice, a mist of darkness concealed his form, slowly the armour of death returned.
The mist dispersed revealing him fully armoured but without a helmet, the red crimson light shone through the dark guardian's visor, a little light which represented it's eyes.
It was initially inexistent but now Azreal understood it was getting serious, his hood covered his head automatically and it's cape rolled down Azreal's back.
His face became obscured by an abysmal darkness, his blades of balance dispersed into dust and reformed into a scythe.
* BOOM *
Azreal shot like a bullet, going past the guardian and walking into the crevice, his armour reverted back to his student uniform, behind him, the guardian fell, cleaved in horizontal halves.
If Azreal wished, he could have destroyed the guardian with his Nirvana, but he just wanted to weigh it's strength, finding it surprisingly strong.
He was merely a lower bacteria like clone compered to Fabian back on the floating metal transport box, he could access only one technique, one transformation and one embodiment.
And he possessed merely an iota of the main bodies strength, yet he served as a representative of the main body in this world.
Worst of all he had an expiration date which was due mere hours from now, so he had to be quick.
According to Orin's memories, the crevice lead to a flight of unnatural stairways, he just had to walk through the narrow passage till he finds it.
With his body pressed onto the wall, he moved in a sideways position, the crevice seemed to be getting thinner and thinner as he moved further.
It actually was, it was then he realized, it was built for only slender girls like Orin, but he was muscular and that was a bit problem.
Using shear strength he pushed himself forcefully through the crevice ripping his clothes further, however it was the end, he broke through another wall to a steep water carnal.
" Really accurate " he said ripping his clothes of entirely before running down the slippery slope, with minutes of sliding gone he was at a level ground.
Again it was really dark, so dark he couldn't even see, he was enshrouded with thick foggy night, a little flame was lit in a distance, that was his cue to the priestess.
Relief quelled his mind as he knew his nigh meaningless side quest was coming to an end, his main quest was to eliminate all those aspirants who disrespected him.
Purposefully he walked forward, the enshrouding fog clearing a path for him, slowly the light ahead became brighter as he advanced.
Moments later he felt his feet sink into something liquid, looking down, he saw ripples which confirmed he had stepped into a body of water or a different liquid altogether.
He shrugged of the incident and went forward, but as he walked he got deeper and deeper, till the water was at his waist, he was currently pushing against the water current.
It got higher, yet he pushed on
When the water reached his chest disaster struck.
Something held onto his body, his arms, legs, torso, despite that he moved forward ignoring the hair like entity grabbing onto him.
His face remained eerily unfazed and emotionless, the height of the water slowly decreased relieving his entangled body completely blacked from the strings of hair coiled against his form.
His movement became difficult, the strings tore into his pale skin drawing blood instantly, yet he continued forward, the former dark lake became slowly over run by deep crimson.
His face remained still, a expression of pain was purely inexistent.
The strings started snapping one by one, soon hundreds by hundreds, his left arm was so entangled by the hair it got dismembered.
Azreal's expression still didn't change, the liquid by then was at his ankles and finally he stepped on dry land.
The remaining strings fell off leaving his body riddled with gashes, a lost limb and multiple serious cleavages.
A halo fabricated above his head.
His body burst in an aura of golden celestial energy instantly regenerated his body and regrowing his arm, all this happened without him stopping.
A hut awaited him, made of clay and thatch, place up a steep hill, the light in it shinning brightly in this dread landscape created for an unknown purpose.
He neared the hut and step on it's doorstep his mind in an array of thoughts, was he truly ready for the truth, the truth in fact leads to an inevitable path of damnation.
But Azreal was sure he would overcome that path.
The door was blocked by a thin curtain which fluttered lightly in the wind.
He stepped into the hut, the strong fragrance of incense hit him hard, * Cough *, the room was extremely foggy with smoke.
In the obscured view of reality Azreal had, he was able to make form of a few large candlesticks and independent menorahs, from which the smoke came from.
They were scattered all across the room, on the ground and on tables, Azreal held his breath for a few seconds, he released his breath and pushed through the smoke.
The room being small had a narrow passageway at it's end, ' All this insolence should come to an end before I snap ' he thought to himself.
Entering the passageway showed him two curtain closed rooms both facing each other, he walked towards a silent one thinking maybe the old hag was asleep.
To his dismay he say nothing but sandy floor and a huge stash of food supply, they were other things like a native firewood stove and blackened pots.
* Ahhh *
He paused.
* Ahhhh God *
' What the actual fuck. '
Silently he turned to the opposite room and walked closer, the noises getting louder and louder, he wasn't shocked or afraid, yet he was quite intrigued what ever would make such moaning sounds.
They were weird people with weird hobbies but the old hag was supposed to be a priestess, and if he was even correct those noises were far from be aged or coming from a old person.
Azreal flung the curtains open walking in to his greatest surprise.
Before him was a young blonde woman, no older that twenty five, blessed with an hour glass figure and cat like eyes, lying on a king sized bed with her legs spread apart and her fingers in her dripping wet pussy.