Greif.

Azhrael's eyes fluttered open, the piercing blue of his gaze reflecting the sky above. For a moment, he simply stared at the expanse of endless blue, the clouds lazily drifting past.

The serenity of the scene was lost on him, as a heavy sigh escaped his lips.

He pushed himself upright, his movements slow yet deliberate. His body felt different—stronger, lighter, yet unfamiliar.

He clenched his fists, feeling the dormant power coursing through him. But the faint warmth of his newfound strength was overshadowed by the icy chill in his heart.

Coldness seeped into his expression, his eyes hardening as the memories surged forward, unbidden and relentless.

His parents—his mother's warm smile, her voice filled with love even in her final moments, and his father's sacrifice—flashed vividly before him. The image of his mother, standing defiantly with a sword through her chest, burned itself into his mind once more.

The weight of loss pressed down on him, his jaw tightening as he exhaled through clenched teeth. "So, this is the truth," he muttered, his voice low and laced with bitterness. "No wonder I felt… incomplete and lost."

He stood there for a while, letting the memories sink in, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon. The boy who had woken up was no longer the same; his eyes now carried the weight of a past he could never escape.

He was the reason. The ultimate reason why his parents died. Azhrael's chest tightened, the weight of guilt pressing down on him like an unrelenting storm.

The realization was unbearable—he was the reason his parents were gone. Their sacrifices, their pain, all for him. The thought coiled around his heart, suffocating him with each passing second.

Tears welled in his eyes, blurring his vision as they threatened to spill over. His fists clenched tightly, nails digging into his palms until blood seeped from the small crescents they formed. Yet, the pain in his hands was nothing compared to the agony that gripped his soul.

"Damn it…" he whispered, his voice trembling with anger and despair. Then, louder, "Damn it! Damn it! Damn fucking iiiitttt!"

His scream echoed through the desolate forest, filled with raw emotion that shook even the stillness of his surroundings.

His fists came crashing down onto the hard ground beneath him, each strike a release of the turmoil that churned within.

The ground cracked beneath his relentless blows, dirt and small rocks scattering as his hands bled freely.

Tears streamed down his face, falling and mingling with the blood staining the earth. He didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Each punch was a desperate attempt to rid himself of the overwhelming guilt and sorrow.

But no matter how hard he struck, it didn't ease the pain in his chest. It didn't erase the haunting images of his mother's final smile or his father's last moments. It didn't bring them back.

Finally, as his strength began to wane, his movements slowed. His shoulders trembled as sobs wracked his body, his forehead resting across the bloodied ground.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry…"

The forest remained silent, the only sound his ragged breathing and quiet sobs. The weight of his grief was immeasurable, and all he could do was let it consume him.

"So, are you done now?"

The voice cut through the stillness, calm yet carrying a sharp edge.

Azhrael didn't react.His fists stayed clenched, his forehead still pressed against the blood-streaked ground. The weight of his emotions drowned out everything around him, including the sound of approaching footsteps.

The figure stopped a few paces behind him, their presence towering yet strangely indifferent.

"Breaking the ground won't change anything, you know," the voice continued, unbothered by Azhrael's lack of acknowledgment.

Azhrael stayed silent, his breathing ragged, his body trembling. His mind was too clouded by sorrow to care who had spoken.

The figure sighed as if they had all the patience in the world. "You can wallow here, punching dirt and drowning in guilt, or you can stand up and decide what to do next. Either way, the world's not going to stop for you."

Still, Azhrael didn't move.

The figure shifted, crouching slightly to glance at him from the side. "Or is this all you're capable of? Lying in the dirt and crying? Hah, I bet your parents would be so proud of this display," they sneered, their voice dripping with mockery.

That struck a nerve.

Azhrael's trembling ceased, his breathing slowing as his fists clenched tighter. A faint ripple of energy radiated from his body, and though his face remained hidden, the sudden shift in his aura was undeniable.

The figure's smirk deepened, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Ah, there it is," they said softly, almost to themselves. "The fire that I felt before."

Slowly, Azhrael raised his head, his blood-streaked hands pressing into the ground as he pushed himself upright.

His azure eyes, no longer clouded with despair, locked onto the figure with a sharpness that could cut through steel, cold and angry.

"Say that again," he said, his voice low and steady, yet carrying a dangerous edge.

The figure stood, unfazed, their smirk unwavering. "What? The part about your parents? Oh, did that struck a nerve?" He taunted, his voice a mocking melody.

Azhrael's eyes flickered with a sudden, dangerous intensity. Without a moment's hesitation, he lunged forward, his fist swinging toward the figure with lethal speed.

His body instinctively infused the punch with mana, the air around him crackling as energy surged through his limbs. Though, the figure didn't even flinch.

They watched the punch come toward them with an almost bored expression, their gaze steady, unperturbed by the swirling mana that now surrounded the attack.

Azhrael's fist was mere inches away from their chest, but the figure still made no move to evade.

At the last second, the figure raised a hand lazily, effortlessly catching the incoming punch. The figure remained unmoved, as if Azhrael's attack had been nothing more than a light breeze.

With a slow, amused grin, the figure tilted their head. "Not bad... But is that really all you have?"