The Fallen Star (Part 1)

As soon as Azrael's hand touched the black greatsword, it trembled slightly, as if it were excited.

Silas and Ashara exchanged a glance, and a hopeful glint flashed in their eyes.

'Maybe this time... he can really form a contract with it.' Both of them had the same thought.

Azrael also clearly felt the sword's excitement. Despite sensing its anticipation, he didn't stop and began pouring his spiritual energy into it.

The moment his spiritual energy made contact with the sword, a strange pulling force erupted from it—and in the next instant, his consciousness was yanked into a different space.

Silas and Ashara, who were watching closely had a visible change in their expressions. Ashara was about to rush forward to check on Azrael, but Silas quickly stopped her.

"Don't worry. It might be one of those Soul Armaments that test their users before forming a contract."

"You mean...?" Ashara's eyes widened with understanding.

"Yes," Silas nodded and looked at Azrael, whose body stood still with vacant eyes. "He is currently going through a trial."

Once his consciousness was pulled in, Azrael found himself standing in a vast white space that seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions.

He frowned and looked at his body, noticing that it appeared slightly transparent—like it wasn't his real body.

"What's going on?" He muttered, glancing around. But other than the endless white void, there was nothing in sight.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of energy fluctuations behind him. He turned his head and saw countless dots of light gathering in a single place, gradually condensing into a black-colored humanoid figure.

The figure had no facial features or hair. It stood at the same height as Azrael—about 175 centimeters—and held a shiny black greatsword that was just slightly shorter than its own height.

As soon as Azrael laid eyes on the humanoid figure, a flood of information suddenly appeared in his mind, and he immediately understood what was going on.

"So I need to defeat this thing to successfully form a contract with my Soul Armament," He muttered, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.

He stretched out his hands, and two daggers materialized—one in each hand. The dagger in his left hand had a thin wire wrapped around the handle, while the right one was a standard combat dagger.

According to the information he had received, he could summon any weapon of his choice to fight the figure—so he chose twin daggers, the weapons he had trained with under Lia's guidance.

As soon as Azrael summoned his weapons, the black figure charged at him without hesitation.

Azrael, using his nearly 20 points of agility also shot forward.

The distance between them was short to begin with, and within seconds, they clashed.

The air trembled violently as the black figure swung its greatsword down with powerful momentum, aiming to crush Azrael with overwhelming force.

Azrael remained calm as the blade descended toward his head. He raised the dagger in his right hand to meet the strike.

The moment his small dagger made contact with the greatsword, a terrifying force surged into his arm, making his entire body sink slightly from the pressure and nearly knocking the dagger from his grasp.

Though his arm went numb, Azrael's expression didn't change. He shifted his body to the side and twisted his wrist.

As he twisted, his dagger—which remained in contact with the greatsword—slid along the blade's surface and shot straight toward the black figure's chest.

The black figure immediately pulled back its greatsword and tried to retreat. But as it did, it heard a sharp slicing sound and saw a throwing dagger—tied to a thin wire flying straight for its throat.

The black figure was stunned and quickly brought the greatsword up to block and barely deflected the attack.

Swish!

Though it managed to block the throwing dagger, it left itself open. Azrael closed the gap between them and slashed with his right-hand dagger across the side of the figure's neck.

The figure had just finished blocking the previous strike and had no time to fully dodge. In the end, It barely managed to shift sideways, and the dagger instead tore into its left shoulder, creating a deep wound.

Blood gushed from the wound, dyeing the right side of the figure's black body a deep crimson.

Azrael didn't give it a moment to recover and immediately yanked the throwing dagger back using the wire and hurled it once again toward the figure's throat.

But this time, the figure seemed to have anticipated it and deflected the dagger with its greatsword.

The battle continued with both of them exchanging attacks, their bodies moving at lightning speed across the white void.

The clashing of metal echoed non-stop for nearly ten minutes before the two finally separated.

Azrael was breathing slightly heavier now, and his body bore several minor wounds.

The black figure, on the other hand, was in much worse condition—its body riddled with deep gashes and blood flowing freely, staining the white floor beneath it.

'He is almost as strong as Lia when she spars with me—even though she restrains herself,' Azrael thought.

During the fight, he realized that while the black figure lacked a face and human features, its body functioned exactly like a human's.

When he inflicted a deep wound on its shoulder, the strength behind its swings noticeably weakened and it couldn't fully utilize its arm.

The same went for its other injuries—each one reduced its reaction time and overall power. By now, its combat ability had dropped by nearly thirty percent.

'If nothing unexpected happens, I should be able to finish this in the next two or three minutes...' Azrael thought as he charged again.

The black figure moved too, albeit slower than before.

Their weapons clashed once more—dagger against greatsword—and Azrael was ready to repeat his strategy using the throwing dagger to pressure it further.

However, this time, when his dagger met the greatsword, he was struck by an overwhelming surge of force—like a tsunami crashing into him.

Crack!

A faint sound of bone cracking echoed, and the skin and muscle of Azrael's arm tore open, blood spraying as his entire arm was injured.

Azrael's expression shifted slightly and instead of trying to resist the force, he used it to leap backward, rolled across the ground to disperse the impact, and quickly got back on his feet.

He glanced at the black figure—who hadn't pursued him—and then at his injured right arm, which was bleeding heavily and now only capable of exerting about thirty percent of its usual strength.

'Why did its strength suddenly increase so dramatically?' Azrael raised an eyebrow in confusion.

The last strike from the black figure had been almost twice as strong as its previous attacks.

'Was it hiding its power from the start? Or...'

His eyes narrowed as he looked at the black greatsword in the figure's hand, which was his Soul Armament.