~Back to Freya and Sagast~
Freya's blades danced like twin comets, one of light, one of shadow.
Elegance mixed with an inhuman lethality.
You couldn't expect any less from one of the strongest slayer of her guild.
Every step, a strike. Every breath, a whisper of death.
Freya and Sagast moved with inhuman grace — a deadly waltz of steel and blood circling the flickering hut behind them.
Freya parried every hit from Sagast with a lot of precision, but his punches were so strong that everyone could feel the shockwave generated from them.
The only way Freya was protecting herself was through her Elven magic.
But not everything in the dance was what it seemed.
Sagast's strikes weren't meant to kill Freya.
Not directly.
He aimed wide.
High.
Low.
Always just off-target — but always angled… toward the hut.
Toward them.
Freya noticed it too late.
He's not aiming at me.
He's trying to bring the whole hut down.
"Bastard—!" she snarled, blocking a crushing hook—
—but the shockwave of his blow rippled through the air, slamming into the side of the hut behind her.
That was Sagast's target.
Wood cracked.
The candlelight inside flickered wildly.
Dust rained from the roofbeams.
Sagast's hands were glowing with dark force — raw kinetic pressure in every strike.
He smiled wickedly.
"Let's see if those little abominations survive a little collateral damage," he whispered, stepping in with another explosive punch.
Freya clenched her jaw and slid between him and the hut, blades crossed, absorbing the next wave of impact.
The force launched her backward into the dirt, boots digging twin scars in the ground.
She gasped — but she stood.
"I'll kill you before you lay a finger on them," she growled.
Sagast didn't answer.
Not with words.
Instead, he stepped forward — casual, predatory , but with a malicious, superior grin on his face— swinging his fists again with precise brutality.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Each strike a missile, meant to flatten not her — but everything behind her.
And yet, Freya moved like wind.
Slipping past each blow, parrying just enough to redirect the damage.
But the ground shook with every miss.
The hut wouldn't last forever.
She needed to end this.
Fast.
Then—
Something changed.
Sagast paused mid-attack.
His pupils shrank.
He froze.
His head tilted slightly, like an animal catching a scent.
Freya didn't ask.
She already knew.
He sensed it too.
A presence.
A force.
Him.
A cold gust blew in from the east.
Heavy.
Tainted with iron.
And human.
Sagast's face tightened.
"That smell…" he whispered.
No longer amused.
Freya's eyes widened.
She knew exactly who was coming.
The hunter.
Her favorite one.
Azrael.
And for the first time that night, Sagast looked… genuinely disturbed.
He stepped back slowly.
Not in fear.
But in calculation.
In preparation.
If Azrael was coming, the only thing that could've happened was Raum's defeat.
Suddenly, a voice spoke within him.
Dark.
Feminine.
Smooth as velvet dipped in blood.
"Leave, Sagast."
It was Maria.
"Now. He's coming for you. And if he finds you, you will not escape. Not even I can stop him when he hunts with purpose."
Sagast clenched his fists.
Memories resurfaced.
~Years ago - In another life.He had taken a false face.
Joined the ranks of the hunters.
He'd laughed among them.
Shared wine.
Earned trust.
And then…
He slaughtered them all.
From within.
Azrael's master had been the last.
The look in Azrael's eyes when he arrived…
Sagast hadn't forgotten it.
That wasn't vengeance.
That was a promise.
He remembers perfectly the completely emotionless expression on his face.
Azrael's face spoke more than 1000 words.
Sagast perfectly knew that he would've met him again.
A promise of death, or... purification.
One that still burned.
And now…
That promise was coming.~
Freya stepped forward, blades ready.
"You're done."
But Sagast smiled — the mask returning.
His gentleman's face snapped back into place, the monstrous form vanishing like smoke.
His coat returned, stitched by blood and magic.
His hair slicked.
His smile elegant.
"Sadly, my dear," he said with a graceful bow, "I must take my leave. Our little date ends here."
"You think I'll let you walk away?" Freya said, while standing on guard again.
He looked up, eyes gleaming.
"Oh no. That's why our mother will save me in this moment." he said, as his last words.
And in that instant, a burst of dark energy exploded around him — Maria's gift, just enough to bend space and shadow, just enough to give him the opening.
When the light cleared—
He was gone.
Only blood remained.
And the faint echo of a gentleman's voice on the wind:
"Until next time, Freya Valken."
After his disappearing, Freya put away her daggers and smiled bitterly to the night sky, now slowly turning into a dawn.
In a matter of seconds, Azrael had arrived.
Freya's heart felt a big sense of relief when she saw his face.
"Freya." Azrael spoke.
The warrior elf moved her gaze to his cold and blue eyes.
"You're finally here." She said, with a sarcastic tone of voice. "I was fighting a lot of monsters, you know."
"I'm glad you're safe." Azrael said, with a very small smile on his face.
Despite not showing many emotions, he was sincerely relieved that Freya made it out alive.
After hearing his "strange" words, Freya's eyes widened.
She felt a shiver down her spine.
"What... did you... say...?" She mumbled, like she heard something shocking. "Is my hearing still okay? You actually said something normal?"
Azrael seemed to completely ignore her reaction.
Instead, he stepped close to her and grabbed her arm.
Freya was surprised by Azrael's touch, but not displeased at all.
"What is he...?" She asked to herself.
Azrael looked at her arm for some instants and then released his grip.
"Turn around." He said.
Freya, without thinking twice, followed his "orders".
Azrael took a look at her.
"I'm glad." That's the only thing he said.
Freya turned to him, thinking "What is he doing?"
"You have just some scratch. But I'm glad you're safe." He said.
And, once again, Freya couldn't believe her ears.
But their small moment got interrupted by two guests.
"M-Master? Is everything over?" That was Valtherion, followed by Elarwen, who walked out of the hut.