Crimson Strategist Azgrel

The academy grounds were eerily silent, an unnatural stillness hanging in the air. The usual lively murmurs of students training, laughing, and arguing were gone. Instead, there was only a suffocating tension, like the calm before a storm.

Nero stood on the highest balcony of the academy, gazing down at the massive stone courtyard below. His senses were sharper than ever—he could hear every heartbeat, every faint breath from the hunters below. His fingers twitched instinctively as he gripped the railing. Something was wrong.

It had started subtly. The animals in the nearby forests had fled days ago. The air had become heavy, thick with the scent of something foreign, something sinister. Then came the reports—hunters disappearing during missions, villages wiped out overnight. It wasn’t long before the academy received a chilling message.

"The demons are coming."

Kain and Lena stood beside him, their expressions grim. Behind them, their newly assigned disciples, young and still inexperienced, fidgeted with nervous energy.

"You feel it, don’t you?" Kain muttered, resting a hand on the hilt of his blade.

Nero nodded. His blood pulsed with an ominous energy, reacting to something unseen. He had spent countless hours mastering his new abilities, pushing himself past his limits. But was it enough?

Ezren approached, his usually cocky demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. "Scouts reported seeing them an hour ago. They’re moving fast. Too fast."

Lena exhaled sharply. "How many?"

Ezren hesitated before answering. "...Hundreds. Maybe more. Led by the Demon King’s fifth disciple—Daemon the Crimson Harbinger."

The name sent a chill through the air. Unlike Igris, Azgrel wasn’t just a mindless brute. He was a tactician, a demon who had spent centuries studying human warfare. His title wasn’t just for show—wherever he went, blood followed.

Nero clenched his fists. "We need to move."

The academy’s grand bell rang, its deep chime echoing across the land. Hunters poured into the courtyard, weapons drawn, their eyes filled with both fear and determination.

This wasn’t just another battle.

This was the beginning of war.

And as the first dark figures emerged over the horizon, Nero felt it in his bones—this fight would change everything.

The academy courtyard buzzed with tension as the head instructor called Nero, Kain, Ezren, and Lena to the center. But this time, their new disciples stood beside them — young, nervous, but burning with potential.

Kain’s disciple, a sharp-eyed boy named Raven, carried a massive greatsword nearly as big as himself. Despite his size, Raven’s strength was monstrous.

Lena’s disciple, a quiet but deadly girl named Mira, specialized in wind-based magic, her twin daggers strapped to her thighs.

Ezren stood a bit apart, still recovering from their last mission, but his crimson eyes gleamed. “What's the mission this time?”

The instructor’s face darkened. “This… is no ordinary hunt. You’re tasked with eliminating one of the Demon King Beru’s five disciples.”

Everyone tensed.

“His name… is Azgrel — The Crimson Strategist. Known for his cold intellect and mastery over demon formations. Unlike Igris, he doesn’t play with his prey — he kills with precision.”

Raven grinned nervously. “A strategist, huh? Sounds fun.”

Mira shook her head. “Sounds terrifying.”

The instructor nodded. “Azgrel commands a battalion of lesser demons. This won’t be a fair fight. Prepare yourselves.

They stood at the border of a ruined city swallowed by crimson mist. The sky above was blood-red, shadows shifting unnaturally.

Ezren, breathing slowly, glanced at Nero. “Let me lead the opening attack. If he’s a strategist, we hit first — hard.”

Nero nodded. “Fine. Kain, protect Raven. Lena, Mira — stick together. This won’t be like Igris.”

A voice echoed from the mist. Smooth. Cold. Deadly.

“So… you’re the ones they sent? Disappointing.”

From the mist, a tall demon appeared, dressed in crimson and black robes, his eyes gleaming with intelligence. His smile was thin, calculating.

“I am Azgrel, Crimson Strategist of the Fifth Throne… Slayer of ten kingdoms… shall I add your names to my list?”

With a snap of his fingers, crimson sigils lit the sky — dozens of demons emerging from the ground.

“Formation One,” Azgrel ordered coldly.

The demons moved like trained soldiers, surrounding Nero’s team instantly.

Ezren roared, “Blood Control: Crimson Rain!”

A downpour of blood spikes rained from above, skewering the first wave of demons.

Kain charged in, Raven right behind him. “Heaven Cleave!” His blade tore through three demons at once.

Mira unleashed a wind blade, slicing through two demons trying to flank them.

But Azgrel barely moved, only watching. “Predictable… now watch how a strategist fights.”

He formed a crimson spear mid-air, throwing it toward Ezren. Nero lunged, Blood Chain Bind! — pulling Ezren out of the way just in time.

Azgrel smiled wider. “Interesting… you’re the cursed one, aren’t you, Nero?”

Nero’s eyes flashed. “What?”

“Oh yes… I can smell Igris’s curse in your blood. That’s going to be… fun.”

The battle raged — every attack they made, Azgrel countered perfectly. Every formation they tried, he dismantled.

Ezren, panting, growled. “He’s… reading us.”

Nero gritted his teeth. “Then we stop thinking… and start destroying.”

“Demon King’s Grasp!” Nero summoned the giant hand, smashing through ten demons at once, breaking the formation.

Kain roared, “Raven! Follow me!” Together, master and disciple charged Azgrel.

But Azgrel snapped his fingers — Reverse Seal! — sending both flying back with crushing force.

“You’re nothing but pawns,” Azgrel said calmly. “And pawns die first.”

Ezren’s eyes burned. “No… I control the board now.”

His blood chains shot out, wrapping around Azgrel’s leg — surprising the demon.

“Let’s see how smart you are… when drowning in your own blood.

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