Baran The Rise Of Azrael

Chapter 9

The sun was just beginning to rise; the sky was still bargaining with the night.

After a few hours of rest, Baran returned to the village with weary but determined steps.

He stood before the village chief, his eyes still bearing the scars of battle.

> "The mission is complete.

There were details you didn't mention. I'll be charging extra. You owe me three gold."

A mocking expression crossed the chief's face.

He looked at the young man, realizing Baran had figured out the true number of wolves—and the alpha. But his smugness remained intact:

> "You're quite the piece of work, aren't you?

Take your two gold and leave. I've got more important things to deal with!"

Baran's vision darkened.

Threads of mana shimmered faintly around his body.

His voice, far too deep and menacing for his age, echoed like thunder in a cave:

> "You'll pay me.

Or this village… will learn a very painful lesson."

The chief grumbled, thinking he was bluffing.

> "I'll report you to the Guild! Have your license revoked!"

At that moment, Baran raised his left hand.

Dark mist began to leak from his fingers.

With the newly learned Blindness spell, he stole the chief's sight.

The man screamed and staggered.

Drowning in his own terror.

Baran leaned down, whispering in a calm, icy tone:

> "You talk too much, chief.

There was no need to work so hard to die.

Before you speak the Guild's name again…

You should think twice.

I won't kill you.

But I'll take something.

Say... your right hand?"

The chief sobbed.

This boy—half his age—was a darkness that could end a man's life without drawing his blade.

> "Alright! Fine! Four gold!

Just go... please!"

Baran took the coins in silence.

Before turning to leave, he paused for a moment.

He tossed one of the extra gold coins in front of an old man holding his stomach in the corner.

> "Use it wisely, old man."

---

When Baran reached the city of Samerra, the first thing he noticed was the silence.

The streets were emptier than usual.

People moved slower.

The sky felt duller.

He knew something was wrong.

Then, among the murmurs, he heard it:

> "Virion... is dead."

His steps slowed.

It felt as though something was ripped from within.

A void formed in his chest, a knot in his throat.

But not a single tear welled in his eyes.

> "So the old man... was actually loved here in Samerra."

His voice carried neither mockery nor grief.

Only... disbelief.

He learned the funeral would be held the next day, but...

Attending?

No. He wasn't ready.

His mind still echoed with vengeance.

He slowly made his way to the Guild.

Reported the mission.

Received his gold and rank-up silently.

No words. No thanks.

From behind, the receptionist called out:

> "Well done, kid!"

Baran stopped.

That phrase...

> "Virion used to say that a lot."

But hearing it from this voice—it struck differently.

As if an echo had risen from the ashes of the past.

---

Before taking a new mission, he stopped by the magic shop.

He bought scrolls of Fire and Darkness.

He needed to become stronger.

To become a darker man, he had to burn more light.

He entered a tavern.

One silver per night. He tossed it from his pocket.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed Katlein in the dining hall.

She was drinking something.

He avoided her gaze.

The memories... Samer Castle... Virion...

He wanted to bury them all.

But Katlein had already seen him.

> "Come here, boy."

Baran approached silently.

He sat without a word.

> "Virion's funeral is tomorrow. Will you attend?"

> "No."

A single word.

Sharp.

Final.

But inside, a storm was raging.

Katlein saw it.

And said nothing.

Baran told her about his last mission.

The power he had awakened.

His first brush with darkness.

They both fell into silence for a long while.

Eventually, Baran quietly went to his room.

That night, he meditated.

Not to calm mana...

But to tame his emotions.

> "Revenge... yes, it's the only way.

Emotion... is weakness."

He was lying to himself.

But he needed to.

The next morning...

Rain poured like a broken dam.

The people of Samerra gathered in the streets dressed in black.

Virion's body was carried in a coffin.

King Draegon declared it "an act of honoring a loyal servant."

Baran seethed at those words.

He wasn't a servant...

He was a hero.

Or rather—he had long ceased to be one, and remained simply... a man.

Baran didn't attend the funeral.

But he watched from the shadows, through the back alleys, beneath the eaves.

After the crowd dispersed, he approached the grave.

The soil was fresh.

A metal plaque read:

"Virion. The Silent Guardian."

Baran knelt.

His cloak slid off his back, falling silently.

He touched the grave with his hand.

And for the first time...

He spoke out loud:

> "Forgive me, old man.

I can't focus on revenge alone... it doesn't work.

Yes, I hate them.

I want to slit their throats.

But at the same time... I grieve.

I'm scared, old man...

I know I need to be strong, but…

This turmoil inside me… it weakens me."

Tears flowed from his eyes.

Blending with the rain.

The soaked earth drank the weight of the past.

He stood up.

Looked one last time at Virion's grave.

He placed his right hand over his chest,

And gave a soldier's salute.

> "Everything you fought for... will burn with me.

But you won't be forgotten."

Far behind, beneath a rooftop, Katlein was watching.

Her eyes were filled with tears.

> "You chose well, Virion…" she murmured.

Baran rose from the grave and walked quietly into the city.

His path led back to the Guild.

Only one thought echoed in his mind: become stronger.

When he arrived, something was off.

There was unusual activity.

Tension filled the air.

People had gathered into hushed, excited groups.

It didn't take long to find out why:

The Star Council—an elite group of hunters—had arrived in Samerra for the first time in years.

All four were A++ ranked.

Their fame had crossed Samerra's borders.

Each one powerful enough to survive on their own.

But this time...

They were looking for someone to join them.

Baran paused.

This could be his chance.

He could grow stronger beside them, earn respect,

Maybe even find a way into royal territory.

But then he reminded himself:

> "Other lives bring responsibility.

And I'm not ready to carry that weight. Not yet."