The Slayer Ascension: Cursed and Blessed.-Chapter 38: Cursed Or Blessed (2)

Chapter 38

Ashiro was a man who had witnessed too much in his life.

Things that would have broken others barely stirred him. To say nothing could move him was not an exaggeration. Fear had long since lost its grip on his heart.

But now... he was shaken to his core.

Not because he was afraid.

Because of what he was seeing.

The young demon he was about to kill was glowing with golden light.

Azura.

The unmistakable sign of a blessed soul.

Not cursed. Not corrupted. Blessed.

And that alone should have settled everything. Yet it didn’t.

The healing was too fast.

Far too fast.

Even a blessed one should not heal like this. Not without awakening their essence. Not without forming a core. At this stage, such recovery was impossible.

That was the red alarm screaming in his mind.

This boy is a demon.

But another voice pushed back.

Azura comes in many forms. Many potentials. Who said the boy’s blessing had nothing to do with healing?

Ashiro clenched his jaw.

Young demon...

No. Young boy.

In the end, it didn’t matter.

He could not kill someone who was clearly blessed. The pure energy pouring from the boy’s body was undeniable. And in the state of the world, every hand mattered. Killing a potential future ally in the war against demons based on assumptions alone would be stupidity.

Decision made, Ashiro retracted his dagger.

He reached into the pouch strapped to his side and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with a silvery green liquid. He knelt beside the broken body.

"Open your mouth."

Gazel was no fool.

Trust the man who had been seconds away from cutting his throat? Impossible.

Poison. That was the first thought. With Ashiro’s strength, he didn’t need tricks to kill him. A part of Gazel wanted to believe the stranger had changed his mind. Another part screamed that this was just a slower death.

His shredded lips trembled as he prepared to refuse.

Then he saw Ashiro’s face.

No expression. No emotion. Just that same calm, eerie stillness.

Gazel shivered.

His body betrayed him. He swallowed, even though it hurt. Even though he didn’t want to.

The bottle hovered close to his mouth.

He shook his head.

No. He wasn’t drinking it. Whatever this was could be worse than death.

Before he could pull away, a hand clamped down on his head. His mouth was forced open.

The liquid poured in.

It tasted like water.

No. Better.

Cool. Clean. Pure. More pure than any water he had ever known.

The sensation was... overwhelming.

Too good.

Gazel’s vision blurred.

He’s killing me.

Panic exploded in his chest as his heart raced wildly.

I knew it.

As his consciousness began to slip, Gazel clenched his palm. The dagger snapped back into his hand. With the last of his strength, he swung.

He knew he couldn’t kill Ashiro.

But he would not die without resisting. His soul would never rest otherwise.

Ashiro leaned aside, easily avoiding the strike.

Gazel’s hand flipped.

The knife shot forward, flying straight for Ashiro’s face.

At that distance, at that speed, no one should have been able to react.

Ashiro’s hand snapped up.

He caught the blade inches from his eye.

Gazel’s body trembled. His vision darkened as the last of his strength drained away.

So this is how it ends.

He tried to stand.

A sharp, cool slap struck his face.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

Ashiro stood up and tossed the knife aside.

Its durability, endurance, everything about it was far beyond what a kitchen knife should ever possess.

His gaze shifted to the obsidian ring on Gazel’s finger.

At least high grade. Possibly more.

A kid carrying something like that meant one thing. His background was anything but simple.

Ashiro looked down at the overly dramatic boy sprawled on the ground and sighed. Should he just abandon him here, or wait for him to wake up and explain what he needed to know?

Before he could decide, the kid mumbled in his unconscious state.

Ashiro leaned closer, listening.

"...white freak... I’ll kill you... I promise..."

Ashiro’s eye twitched.

He straightened and let out a soft sigh.

This was going to be a long night.

...

Hours later, Gazel stood atop the Trystan Manor.

Blue eyes fixed on the moon.

The golden glow that had wrapped around it earlier was slowly retracting. More than half of it was already gone, leaving behind a pure white brilliance that felt colder than before.

Gazel was different too.

His injuries were completely healed. Every bone, every tear, gone. As much as he wanted to believe it was his own ability, he knew better. It had to be that strange liquid the white haired freak forced down his throat.

Speaking of the freak.

The man had not only restored his body. He was also the reason it had been shattered in the first place. And yet, in the end, he spared him.

Because he believed Gazel was blessed.

At first, the word meant nothing to him.

Blessed.

It was a term Gazel had never heard before. The stranger didn’t explain everything. Not even close. But he explained enough.

There were people called Shurals.

They wielded a power known as Azura.

And Gazel, apparently, possessed it.

Details were given, but every answer only raised more questions. Questions the man didn’t bother to address. All he said was this.

"When you reach the Bulwark, you will get your answers."

Gazel raised his hand and stared at the badge resting in his palm.

A golden spear crossed with a shield.

An entry badge.

As long as he reached the Bulwark, it would grant him passage.

The problem was the Bulwark lay at the farthest reach of the Ayde Kingdom.

Gazel clenched his fingers.

If he went there, he would become a Shural. That meant fighting demons. It also meant risking everything. His secret. His identity. The only reason he was still alive was because that white freak believed he was wrong about him being a demon.

If he was exposed, death was certain.

But staying behind wasn’t safer.

Demons were hunting the blessed. Lurking. Watching. Waiting. Staying put would only make him more suspicious. And it would give that same white haired freak the perfect excuse to finish what he started.

Either choice carried overwhelming risk.

Gazel had until sunrise to decide.

He stood there, weighing every option, every consequence, until the night grew thin.

And yet, deep down, he already knew.

There was never really a choice.