A chance.

The figure observed the boy with growing excitement, his eyes gleaming as Azhrael struggled to rise.

His body was battered, his arm limp at his side, yet his spirit remained unbroken. Even in this wretched state, he stood, refusing to be crushed.

"Take those words back," Azhrael muttered, his voice weak yet steady, unwavering in its resolve.

The figure tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "What words?" he asked, though he already knew, and continued "About your parents?"

Azhrael met his gaze, nodding, his voice gaining strength. "Yes. About my parents."

The smirk on the figure's face faded, his voice turning sharp, almost cruel. "And why should I? Aren't you proving me right? Crying like a child, weak as an insect, drowning in your own self-pity?"

The words cut deep, sharper than any blade. They rang with a painful truth Azhrael could not deny. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as those words echoed in his mind like a deafening alarm.

Thus, he understood it and something changed.

His trembling was no longer from weakness but from a fire rekindled in his soul. A determination that began to rise from the ashes of his despair. A shift so sudden and powerful that even the air around him seemed to stir.

"You are right," Azhrael said, his voice calm now, almost eerily so, as he allowed his body to relax now. "I see it now. I was being idiotic, wasn't I?"

His gaze turned cold, his resolve hardening like tempered steel. "Ahh....I need to become stronger—strong enough to protect the life my parents died for. Strong enough for revenge. Strong enough to kill anyone who insults my parents…" His eyes burned with an otherworldly light, as he glanced at him. "Even you."

He uttered those words slowly, deliberately, his azure eyes glowing like twin frozen suns.

The figure's smirk faltered for a moment to fast for Azhrael perception. His eyes narrowed. Not from fear—no, fear was something he had long forgotten—but from something far more unexpected.

A chill.

In a very long time, a cold shiver crawled up his spine. Not from an overwhelming enemy, not from a being stronger than him, but from a mere teenager. A boy he could crush with a flick of his fingers.

And yet, in that moment, under that piercing gaze, he felt it—something monstrous, something terrifyingly real. As if he could do it.

However, he quickly composed himself, pushing aside the fleeting chill that had crept into his spine. He wasn't here to be shaken by words—he was here to claim a disciple.

A smirk curled on his lips once more, amusement glinting in his eyes.

"Oh? Can you now?" he mused, his voice laced with mockery. "You think you can grow strong enough to kill me? How bold."

Azhrael didn't flinch. His gaze remained locked onto the figure, his resolve unshaken.

The man chuckled. "I like that look in your eyes. But words are cheap, boy. Strength, power, revenge—none of that will come from empty declarations." His voice turning serious.

"So, boy, I—Solas Vael—will give you a chance. A chance to gain strength with the correct guidance. Become my disciple."

His voice carried through the woods, steady and absolute, like an unshakable decree.

Azhrael's eyes widened, his mind reeling. Solas Vael?

That name—it wasn't unfamiliar. He had come across it in Legends of Aldoria. A name spoken in hushed tones, a man feared and revered. The only Archon who had fought a Sovereign for half a day before his life end.

Azhrael eyes narrowed, his voice laced with suspicion. He knows that the word, Kindness.is just a facade in this world.

"Why? Why would someone like you want me as a disciple?"

Solas smirked, as if expecting the question. His piercing gaze locked onto Azhrael's own. "You already know the answer," he said simply.

A confused expression appeared on his face.

Solas then slowly raised three fingers.

"First," he said, lifting one, "Your talent. A talent that defies the world itself. A talent that would even terrify me."

He lifted a second. "Second, your resolve, your motivation. The will to stand back up, no matter how many times you fall. Who wouldn't want a student like that. "

Then, the third. "And third…" His smirk widened. "Because I want to see what kind of monster you'll become in the future. My instincts are just screaming at me that you will bring chaos."

Azhrael's breath hitched.

Solas lowered his hand and extended it toward him. "Now, boy, are you taking this chance or not?"

Azhrael stared at the outstretched hand, his heart pounding.

This was it. If he could get a master like him than his path would become slightly easier..

Lifting his gaze, his eyes burned with unwavering determination.

"…I accept." He said.

""Hahaha, nice!" Solas laughed loudly, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. The cold, domineering presence melted away, replaced by something far more eccentric—almost carefree.

Azhrael blinked, momentarily thrown off. Is this really the same man?

"Now that you're my disciple, I suppose I should take care of your injuries," Solas mused, nodding to himself as if he had just remembered something trivial.

With a flick of his wrist, a small vial materialized in his palm, pulled from the space ring on his finger. The liquid inside shimmered with an ethereal green glow, radiating a faint, soothing aura.

Solas watched as Azhrael caught the vial, his brow raising slightly at the sight of a High-Grade Healing Potion.

The boy hesitated only a moment before drinking, and Solas nodded in approval as the wounds rapidly mended before his eyes.

But then, his curiosity got the better of him. He glanced around casually before turning back to Azhrael with a smirk.

"Now that you're not bleeding all over the place, tell me, dear disciple… What exactly were you doing alone in the Forbidden Forest—aside from that laser show, of course?"

Azhrael stiffened, his expression darkening for a brief moment. He didn't want to explain everything—especially not about being bullied. So, he kept it vague.

"I was… teleported," he said simply.

Solas narrowed his eyes slightly, but before he could press further, Azhrael's mind caught up to what had just been said. His eyes widened, and he quickly looked around, suddenly alert.

"Wait—Forbidden Forest? This place is dangerous!" His voice rose slightly in alarm. "No, wait, how am I even alive right now? How did I not get torn apart by the beasts here?"