It was obvious that from the very first day the military school was going to drastically reduce the number of Chosen.
'Well, I can't really blame them,' Azrael thought as he silently moved deeper into the forest, Victor a few steps behind.
'If they're giving unlimited food and comfortable lodging to every person under their care, the least they can do is make sure they're investing their resources in promising individuals.'
'We got lucky with the first battle, but the element of surprise won't always be on our side. Not to mention it is possible to encounter a monster with higher Corruption Level than Warped,' the grip on his scythe tightened, his eyes growing darker.
The worst thing he could do was grow overconfident, that always led to early death.
Despite the impressive speed he was running at, his gaze didn't miss the enemy ahead.
He raised his left hand, informing Victor to slow down.
Crouching low, Azrael moved silently. Three Gazerborn creatures were busy tearing apart one of their kin.
'These beings eat their own kind?' Azrael noted, seeing the way they moved the still-twitching intestines of their own kin towards the top of their torsos where their mouths were located.
'We're outnumbered by one. Still, if we take the opportunity to attack before they notice us, we stand a chance.'
They had to hurry, the corpse of the monster was nearly devoured. Once it was gone, the abominations would begin scanning the area and spot them sooner or later.
"I will go behind them," Azrael whispered to Victor.
"Count to thirty. Once you do, show yourself and rush towards them. With their attention on you, I will flank them and dispatch them quickly."
Victor scoffed, "How can you guarantee that you won't just screw off, leaving me to deal with the three alone?"
Azrael shook his head, "I guess you just have to trust me. Now, begin counting, I am going to their blind spot."
Before Victor could retort, the Death Heir was out of sight.
"Swift and silent indeed," Victor sighed, beginning to count.
'Should be about now…' With his positioning changed, Azrael waited for his companion to get their aggro.
True to the plan, once half a minute passed, he stormed out of the greenery with an axe ready to squash the first one into a pulp.
The monster's eyes instantly locked on the towering two-and-a-half-meter (~8 feet) figure charging toward them like a bear. Dropping the intestines they were feasting on, a low growl escaped their mouths as they sprinted to meet their enemy.
Victor unleashed a staggering slash, one that no mortal could survive, he hit the closest foe to him, reducing its body to guts.
"Strike true."
Before the two surviving monsters could retaliate, a horizontal arc passed cleanly through their bodies.
[Corrupt soul has been devoured. The taint in your soul grows darker.]
Corruption Progression: [3/100]
"See?" A small smile appeared on Azrael's face ignoring the system words, "I didn't run away."
Victor chuckled coldly, "Indeed, it seems you have some guts unlike most."
Unwilling to rest, they continued deeper into the forest.
The Death Heir kept one eye on his surroundings while with the other he surveyed the system interface.
'Slaughtering monsters right now isn't ideal since it will increase my Corruption Rank, but at the same time this is the perfect place to get familiar with battling against them and it's not like I can just go easy. If I try to simply injure them, leaving them for Victor, I could die in the process.'
He sighed.
'Besides, Seyra told me to not embarrass her at the ceremony and Iris promised rewards to the ones that killed the most. The potential benefits outweigh the costs,' he concluded.
"HELP!"
A desperate plea reached his ears, forcing him to halt.
'It came from my right.'
He glanced at Victor. "Do we turn toward the sound, or away from it?"
"Towards it," Victor spoke coldly, gripping his giant two-headed axe.
"If there are people in need of help, we let them be the distraction while we dispatch what made them so scared in the first place."
'I like this line of thought,' Azrael mused, moving toward the source.
His nose picked up the scent of iron, while his ears caught the sound of running water.
'The fight is next to one of the rivers,' he analyzed.
What came into view was surprising. A single monster—not one of the Gazerborn they'd fought before.
This one was a quadruped, rivaling a horse in size, its entire body covered in thick, dark fur. Maw hung wide open, revealing rows of tattered fangs, saliva dripping to the ground, two crimson eyes staring at the prey before it.
'A new one.'
Name: [Unnamed]
Race: [Molgrin]
Danger Level: [Feral]
Corruption Rank: [Twisted]
'Troublesome,' Azrael cursed inwardly. They had been able to dispatch monsters of the Warped Corruption Rank, but things became much different when their foe surpassed their Purity Rank.
Even from afar he was able to feel the effects—his body tensed involuntarily, breathing became harder, his eyes began to dry out due to the lack of moisture.
It wasn't just his body, the nature around the abomination seemed to slowly die due to its corrupted aura.
'If we take into account that we're all new Chosen and that this is our first mandatory lesson, then this must be the strongest type of monster we'll encounter here,' Azrael's mind raced.
'Taking it on is risky. However, if we manage to defeat it... I'm certain we'll be ranked at the top.'
For a brief moment, his eyes shifted toward his companion. 'This man is a tank, I can somewhat rely on him. The Molgrin is distracted by the other Chosen. There's no time for hesitation. We either strike now, or turn back.'
Even with all the advantages on their side, victory was far from certain. But Azrael decided to move forward, not out of overconfidence. But because he understood that if there was ever a time to learn how to fight a being mightier than himself, it was now.
Not to mention, if luck was on his side, there was a chance he'd be granted a skill or an item should he manage to land the finishing blow on the Molgrin.
And he wasn't foolish enough to turn down a potential increase in power.
Making eye contact with Victor, he nodded; that was all the communication the two needed to understand what the other thought.
"Stay away!" the injured Chosen screamed in panic, pointing with his sword towards the mighty monster. He had left a crimson trail behind him due to the injury he had suffered on his left leg, without choice he had tried to drag himself away.
The Molgrin roared, its eyes moving independently from one another, its body jerking as if possessed. Without showing the slightest hint of mercy, it lunged at the young Chosen.
Its sharp teeth dug deep into his arm, tearing it apart. The sword that the Chosen had picked up flicked to the side.
Before the terrified youth could scream in fear, his skull exploded under the crushing force of Molgrin's bite.
'Less competition,' Azrael noted, observing in deadly silence.
Unsatisfied, the monster moved its maw lower, sinking its fangs deep into the corpse's abdomen before tearing it apart.
'Now!'
Taking advantage of the brief opportunity that had presented itself, Azrael moved.
"Strike true," his muscles tensed, the deadly scythe blurring in the air.
The attack was focused on the creature's left rear leg.
Victor attacked simultaneously, his axe aiming for the other one.
The idea was simple—killing the monster with one hit was clearly impossible, so they were going to inflict it with a similar injury that it had inflicted on its prey. With two bloody—hopefully cut off—rear legs, its movements should have been greatly reduced.
Azrael grimaced the second the momentum of his swing disappeared. The scythe was barely halfway through the being's leg.
Victor didn't have much luck either; despite his superior raw force, his axe hadn't been able to sever the creature's leg completely.
A terrifying roar escaped the Molgrin's mouth, enraged by the humans who had dared to attack it while in the middle of its feast.
'Troublesome,' the Death Heir cursed inwardly, pulling out the weapon by straining his muscles to the limit.
With lightning speed, the Molgrin turned, its crimson eyes blazing with rage, locking on Azrael's figure—guts still in its maw from the last fool who had dared go against it.
Coming face to face with such a being was nerve-racking.
Yet…
Filling his lungs with oxygen, veins expanding, focus unwavering, Azrael's dark eyes met the monster's gaze, without a shred of fear.
"Come," he spat emotionlessly, scythe going for another strike.
"Let me put you down like the pest you are."