The extra is a fox eyed jester-Chapter 67: Dreamscape III

Azazel felt the cold intent behind Akathartos’ words.

His bones creaked in protest, his muscles urging him to flee.

For a heartbeat, Azazel let his gaze linger on Akathartos, then he laughed.

It wasn’t a confident one.

It was the kind of laugh someone made when things had already spiraled beyond their control. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Oh sure," Azazel wheezed, wiping the blood trailing down from his eyes."Let me just... pull out the wills of a mythical serpent and a legendary raven I apparently have lying around waiting for my call."

Then he sneered.

"You fool, If I knew how to do so do you think I’d be watching you toss my ass around like a ragdoll!"

Akathartos moved, ignoring Azazel’s tantrums.

The obsidian blade sang through the air with a metallic hum.

Azazel barely had time to react.

He twisted aside, but the edge still nicked his shoulder.

A line opened immediately causing blood to splurt out.

"Argh! Sonova—"

"Pathetic reaction speed."

Akathartos grabbed Azazel by the skull and yanked him forward.

His knee rose to meet Azazel’s face.

CRACK.

Blood clouded Azazel’s vision, his legs lost their strength.

Akathartos immediately followed up with a side kick to Azazel’s abdomen.

Azazel folded.

The air exploded from his lungs as his body left the ground and slammed against one of the colossal serpent’s ribs.

The ribs shook but something else made a crack, it was Azazel’s ribs, the impact sent an agonizing pain racing up his spine.

He tried to stand, his hands digging into the gray floor below but Akathartos was already there.

The pommel of the blade slammed into his face.

The world spun in a violent frenzy and Azazel landed face flat on the ground again.

"Get up."

Akathartos’ voice sounded.

It held no anger or excitement.

Only the cold expectation of a teacher watching a disappointing student.

Azazel coughed weakly.

"...You know." He groaned, forcing himself onto one knee. " For a divine blade, you fight like a mercenary, what happened to all those fancy techniques you were supposed to have?"

Akathartos replied by kicking him brutally in the jaw.

The sound reverberated across the empty space.

Azazel’s body skidded across the ground like discarded trash, his blood smeared across the gray floor.

He tried to lift himself again but his arms trembled, his ribs creaked like rusted hinges and his vision doubled.

Akathartos approached him slowly.

Every step rang within Azazel’s ear like the reaper’s scythe skidding across the ground.

"Look at you." The blade said calmly. "This is exactly what I meant, since the start you haven’t used your chaos mana."

Azazel’s fingers twitched against the ground.

The blade continued.

"You possess power, but you can’t use it, you don’t even try. You’re complacent, all you can do is bluff."

He raised the obsidian blade.

"You rely on tricks when you haven’t ascended, your combat prowess is decent at best, even then you don’t use all those strange martial arts you keep buried within your mind."

The blade descended.

Azazel used the strength remaining within him to roll aside.

The sword carved a deep scar through the ground where Azazel’s hand had been.

The ground shattered, sending fragments flying in every direction.

The tainted blade was toying with him and Azazel knew it, his body was growing weak.

Azazel felt this before when he had cut himself with the blade during the exam.

Akathartos had a passive effect where it applied a weakening curse on anyone it had cut.

Azazel could’ve put up a decent fight like the blade mentioned, he could have used his chaos mana to bend space within his soul space, he could have used the martial arts the people of this world were unfamiliar with but he didn’t.

He was waiting.

Bidding his time.

The blade could have ended him anytime but it didn’t.

Akathartos grabbed Azazel by the collar then lifted him without effort.

His face was a few inches away from Azazel’s face then he snarled.

"You are weak."

Azazel winced.

His eyes twitched weakly then he smiled.

"W-Why..."

"What?"

"Why are you gay, you useless scrap of metal."

That was the last straw.

Akathartos slammed Azazel back into the ground.

The impact shook the soul space itself with a thundering boom.

Azazel’s body spasmed violently, blood pooled beneath his form and his breathing became shallow.

"At least you’re resilient, decent enough for a punching bag."

With his face pressed against the ground, Azazel tried to laugh but he coughed up blood instead.

His lips wouldn’t move and his vision blurred.

The darkness at the edge of his sight began creeping inward.

’Ah... this sucks, I can’t even rest properly without getting my ass handed to me.’ Azazel thought with resentment to no one in particular.

The tainted blade stood above him observing his bleeding form.

"If this is all you amount to." He said coldly. "then you’re not worthy to wield me."

He raised his sword to deliver the final strike.

"Perish and leave the body to me."

The blade fell—

But stopped mid air.

Akathartos frowned.

It wasn’t the boy who had stopped his attack, that much was certain.

His eyes narrowed just enough to see Azazel grinning beneath the pool of blood.

The soul space trembled then Azazel spoke.

"Thanks for the lesson, Akathartos. Thanks to you, I learnt something today."

He lingered, his voice weak.

"I learnt that all freeloaders react when the host is on the verge of death."

The soul space trembled causing Akathartos to arch his brows.

"...Oh?"

A strange rustle echoed through the forest.

Leaves stirred, following the same subtle wind Azazel had encountered in the black forest earlier.

Somewhere within the towering black trees, something moved.

A single dark glossy feather.

It drifted towards the body of Azazel who was sprawled above a pool of blood.

At the same time, shadow slithered across the forest floor within the archway where the fangs of the colossal serpent’s remains met the final vertebrae of its tail.

They both met the motionless body of Azazel at the same time then the shadow of the serpent disappeared into Azazel’s shadow, while the dark feather fell above his back.

For a second nothing happened.

Then the air grew heavy with primal intent and Azazel...

Azazel’s eyes snapped open, but they were no longer his.