"Don’t doze off in the middle of your training,” warned Marr, narrowing her eyes to slits.

  A straight jab to Azrael’s jaw, lobbed him off his feet. Before he knew it, his rear was scraping against the grass laden sparring ground, his bottom still intact. He rubbed the side of his face, spitting out a gob of pink tinged saliva, contorting his eyebrows in a frenzy.

  “Struck a nerve?” asked Marr, softening her stern gaze and extending a helping hand. “First missions never go smoothly. A botch-up is a must.” She winked, flaunting a sly grin as she pulled him to his feet. “In fact, I’ll say, you have managed to hold your own quite well, if I cut through the jargon Nakta spewed.”

  “No, I won’t discard all of what he says.” Azrael shook his head, freeing his mind of the bleariness stabbing at his vision. “Rather I gained a better understanding of what I’ve become.”

  “What do you mean?” asked a sceptical Marr.

  “I have the means to stay in this line of work.”

  “Is that so?” smirked Marr. “Well, it won’t be for long if you’re taken out by shallow jabs and sweeps, especially if your next gig is in a week’s time.”

  “A week? For what?”

  “Your next mission of course. Or rather your first mission part two.”

  Taken aback, Azrael nearly stumbled and fell on his rear yet again. “Wait, what?”

  “You didn’t hear? I thought Lilith told you already.”

  “She told me she assigned Nakta to a new mission while you and Juke have to clean up the aftermath of the last one.”

  “Juke and I aren’t here for wiping both your asses. But seems like Lilith wants you onboard too.” Marr scratched her chin, taking a step back. “If you look at it another way, the three of us are technically wiping Nakta’s ass.” She tipped her head to the side, mulling over the unsettling thought with newfound annoyance. “Fuck.”

  “That is distasteful.”

  “You lassies done with small talk?” perked up Juke, a sheathed pair of longswords hanging off his waist.

  “Am I cutting into your sparring session with Azrael?” asked Marr.

  “Seems like it’ll be the two of us training him for now. Raen is off on a mission from tonight till who knows when.”

  “Is that all?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Averting his gaze, Juke muttered with a flushing flourish, “and I wanted to test out Azrael’s newfound ability.” He rubbed the back of his head, sheepish.

  “They do say curiosity killed the cat, but in your case, death doesn’t mean much, does it?” she smirked.

  “I’m not too sure,” admitted Azrael. “I just have to figure out the mechanics of my own miasma.”

  “Well then.” Juke unsheathed his longswords, swinging his pair of tempered steels in untethered zeal. “Let’s put your ability to the test.”

  Azrael strolled up to his blades, picking up his sheathed katana from the assorted mix. The redhead grasped the hilt with a firm grip and lunged at his opponent.

  “Did you get cocky unravelling your miasma?” asked Juke, felling his blade towards Azrael’s exposed nape.

  Eyes locked onto his opponent’s sword, the redhead steadied his breath. Sliding his katana off the sheath, he hooked the flat of his blade under Juke’s steel, sliding the longsword past his left arm. Simultaneously he twisted his wrist, redirecting his katana’s tip towards Juke’s torso.

  “Wow!” Juke parried away the oncoming strike using his secondary longsword, simultaneously retreating ten paces back. Beads of sweat rolled off his bald head, as he caught his breath. “I’ve never seen you pull off that move before.”

  Azrael was hot on his opponent’s trail, covering the distance in a heartbeat. His katana lasered in on Juke’s right shoulder.

  Clucking his tongue, Juke held his left longsword up to parry the blow, while his other blade swiped at Azrael’s throat, aiming for a shallow cut over his Adam’s apple.

  The redhead reached for his secondary blade over his waist. But his fingers grasped air. Dammit, I left it behind. Realising his folly, he barely had any time to think. His body moved of its own accord in an act of desperation, raising his free arm in defence. Steel was driven deep into flesh, dribbling streaks of red over skin.

  Wincing in pain, he noticed the weight of Juke’s blow loosening.

  “You alri–”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Azrael didn’t wait for him to finish. Freeing his arm off the longsword, he spattered liquid crimson into Juke’s eyes. His mentor was here to see his ability, and he was more than willing to show him the front row seats to the feast.

  Rubbing his grimy sockets in a surge of turmoil, Juke let go of one of his blades, while the redhead drove his katana under the remaining longsword his opponent had held onto. With a twist of his wrist, a second longsword fell out of his hands.

  In an exasperated rush, Juke wiped the blood off his eyes, and bared his teeth, while Azrael slid the tip of the katana under his mentor’s chin. “My win,” he said, flashing a wink.

  “What the–” trailed off Juke, rubbing out the lingering traces of blood in his eyes. He stood his ground narrowing his gaze, in a sweltering simmer.

  “That was something,” whistled Marr, materializing in the space between the sparring duo, separating them as far as her arms extended. “You should show off some of that intensity in our fights.”

  Juke didn’t care if Marr was intervening. Usually he had his cool, maintaining his older brother persona. At least while he was home. Reeled in by Azrael’s intensity, he couldn’t override the hot-bloodied instinct eroding his rationale.

  Kicking up one out of the two longswords he had wielded, he swerved around the intervening Marr, his towering silhouette eclipsing the blade. He noticed wisps of smoke curling off Azrael’s injured arm, healing the puckered flesh. Not faltering for a moment longer, he drove the longsword through the redhead’s left flank with the entirety of his might, aiming to slice it cleanly out his right shoulder.

  Or so he had thought.

  The blade entered an inch deep in Azrael’s flank, when Juke felt a firm grip around the nape of his neck, reeling him backwards. All of a sudden, his head rattled. A stab of pain reverberated from the side of his jaw, unsteadying his balance, nearly buckling his knees. Black spots danced in front of his eyes, teetering his consciousness on a tight rope.

  “And what do you think you’re doing?” asked Marr. Grabbing Juke by the collar, she stared him down, despite the half-foot difference in height between them. “Get a grip, will you?”

  “Huh?” Juke held his smarting jaw, dropping his longsword. “My bad, I lost it for a moment there.” Turning to Azrael, he held up a hand in apology. “You alright?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking. “I thought I was in my zone, but you were something else.”

  “His skill with the blade is on another level when he loses it.” Marr undid her grip on Juke’s collar and took a step back, focusing her gaze on the redhead. “But I have to admit, you have one hell of an ability. It’s almost eerie watching you fight with that degree of recklessness.”

  “I wish my ability severed my perception of pain too.”

  “Oww,” said a flinching Juke. He felt his hot bloodied drive plummet past the melting point, into a sudden pang of guilt. After all, he was the one in a rush to see his protege in action. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s nothing. At least compared to being torched alive.” Azrael grimaced as a string of miasma was weaved over his flank, patching up his latest wound.

  The puckered gash worked its way into a mesh of flesh, before paving way for smooth skin. A rare ability. One shouldering a lifetime of pain. Juke couldn’t help but avert his gaze.

  “You’ve been wrung through far too many rough patches, to unveil that kind of ability.” Marr lowered her eyes, clouded by a shining, moist glaze.

  Juke knew what she meant. In fact, he was reeling from the weight of similar thoughts.

  “Oh wait,” apologized Marr, holding a finger up to her lips, regretful of what she had spilled. “I wasn’t meant to mention that bit, was I?”

  “JUUKE,” said Azrael, wearing a scowl. “I thought I told you not to tell anyone about my past.”

  “Sorry.” He shrugged, plopping a fist on Marr’s head, dishevelling blonde hair. “She was meant to keep it a SECRET!”

  The redhead shook his head in annoyance. “That explains why I still have all my limbs intact despite the hell I was wrung through.”

  “But doesn’t it…” Marr trailed off, warily running a hand through her dishevelled hair. Opening and closing her mouth in a wordless exchange. She bit her lip, averting her gaze from the redhead.

  “Well then.” Juke cleared his throat pointedly. “Let’s call it a day.”

  Azrael tilted his head sideways, a gnawing sense of curiosity splayed across his face, as though he was wondering what Marr wanted to say.

  Juke couldn’t help but drown his thoughts in doubt. Perhaps that lad had endured far more than he had let on. If he’s endured worse suffering than what he’s mentioned…

  He watched with a nervous gulp, as the redhead made his way back indoors. Despite his mind running amok, he felt a gentle tug at his arm. Marr gazed at him, a deep melancholy reflected in her eyes.

  Partway enroute to his room, Azrael suddenly remembered he had left his secondary blades behind. Slamming his palm against his forehead, he cursed his forgetfulness and hurried back.

  Approaching the sparring grounds, he noticed the door was left ajar by a half-inch. He hesitated, and to his surprise, heard muffled shuffling past the entrance. Reeled in by intrigue, he peered through the crack and caught sight of Juke and Marr locked in a tender embrace.

  Face aflush with a ruddy rush, Azrael discreetly slid behind the wall, continuing his voyeuristic view of the pair indulging in their intimate exchange. “Quite the unexpected couple, aren’t they?” whispered a voice brushing past his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “Shhhh, you don’t want to earn their wrath now, do you?”

  He turned his head slowly and a set of purple streaks entered the peripherals of his vision. “Weren’t you supposed to be out on a mission?”

  “Yeah, about that… Lilith wants me to handle an urgent one tonight. I was planning on going solo, but then I remembered the last encounter I had had, with one of the targets.” Raen wrinkled her nose, magnifying her displeasure. “Which is why I need a second pair of hands.”

  “Me?” asked Azrael taken aback. “Wouldn’t the intimate couple or Nakta be a better fit for the job?”

  “You really want me to go out there and break up their cosiness?” She nudged his shoulder, smirking. “You don’t have much experience with romance, do you?”

  His rubicund cheeks burned brighter, averting his gaze from the faint crack. “What about Nakta then?” he coughed out. “This’ll be a great opportunity for him to regain his vanity.”

  “He’s a walking disaster, especially when he’s pouting.” Raen waved her hand in dismissal, rolling her eyes. “On the other hand, I’ve heard you’re reliable especially since I’ve caught you red-handed.” A smile worked its way, around her lips.

  “What!? Your presence here, is just as incriminating as mine!”

  “Oh please, I can hang you out to dry. You should take a look at how profusely you’re sweating. Circumstantial evidence enough for incrimination, no?” Raen cupped Azrael’s chin, reeling him in close. “And you get to chalk up the experience you’ll gain from tonight’s mission as another milestone on your assassin resume.”

  “You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

  She slid him a wink and lugged him along, in tow.