Mated To The Cruel Prince-Chapter 771: Stench Of Death

Azrael turned to the remaining witches and mages, his expression cold and unmerciful . "Now, who wants to go next?"

The crowd recoiled, fear evident in their eyes. They had come expecting to make the Fae pay, but what they had witnessed was something far beyond their expectations. The brutal, efficient manner in which Azreal had murdered their leader had left them frozen in place, their courage shattered.

Azrael made his presence loom larger, his aura more intimidating than ever. And it was working. He watched the witches and mages exchange fearful glances, none daring to step forward or even speak. The threat was clear: any further defiance would meet the same grisly end.

The moment Azrael saw the witches begin to retreat, he thought he had won. He was wrong. Just as he allowed himself to relax, the witches stopped, their fear transforming into a fierce resolve. They moved as one, stretching out their hands and releasing a barrage of magical spells.

"Oh, fuck," Azrael muttered, realizing the gravity of the situation a moment too late.

He reacted swiftly, conjuring a barrier of ravens to deflect the incoming attack. The ravens swirled around him, absorbing the brunt of the magic, but some spells slipped through, hitting him with a force that sent him flying back through the door. He crashed to the ground with a groan, clutching his stomach where a spell had struck him. Pain radiated through his body.

The sight of Azrael on the ground spurred the witches on, their earlier fear completely gone. Encouraged by their apparent success, they advanced, spells crackling at their fingertips, eyes filled with vengeful determination. Azrael, still reeling from the impact, forced himself to his feet. His anger bubbled over, boiling into a dark fury.

The moment the witches burst through the shattered doorway, a storm of ravens erupted from Azrael, darkening the air as they swarmed the intruders. He was done playing nice.

The ravens descended upon the witches, pecking and clawing with a vengeance. Screams filled the air as the dark birds tore into flesh and fabric alike. Azrael moved with a lethal grace, weaving through the chaos, striking down anyone who came too close.

Another mage seemed to take over from the dead leader. He barked orders, attempting to form a defensive line, but the ravens were relentless. They swarmed, tearing through spells and shields, their sheer numbers overwhelming the witches.

Azrael’s eyes glowed with a dangerous light as he fought, his movements precise and deadly. His earlier wound seemed to fuel his rage, pushing him to fight harder. He was a blur of motion, his dark cloak swirling around him as he killed one mage after another.

The sounds of battle echoing through the night. The witches had called for reinforcements and Azrael could feel the strain in his muscles as he fended them off. The house was already in ruins, walls shattered, and gaping holes revealing glimpses of the chaos within. He was holding the line, but barely, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they would be overrun.

Inside, Aldric stood protectively in front of Islinda, his eyes never leaving the doorway. He deflected spells with practiced ease, his dark magic forming a barrier around the females. Despite the chaos, Lilith remained focused, her chants unwavering, her gaze steady. She was in her element, and Aldric couldn’t help but begrudgingly admire her dedication.

Suddenly, with a loud crash, Azrael was hurled back into the room, landing heavily on the floor with a groan. Aldric’s expression remained impassive as he cast a stronger barrier over Islinda and Lilith, then approached Azrael.

"Didn’t you say you could handle it?" Aldric asked dryly.

Azrael forced himself to his feet, his body aching from the impact. "This is a small space," he retorted, flipping Aldric off before steadying himself.

The witches and mages poured into the room, their eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the second figure. Aldric’s hood obscured his face, and his identity remained hidden. They hesitated, sensing the danger but not fully understanding it. Aldric preferred it that way. His bloodlust surged, and he relished the opportunity to unleash it. He only hoped Islinda never had to see this side of him. He liked to preserve that innocent side of her - so he could taint it little by little.

"Attack them! Destroy everything!" a witch ordered, and the rest charged forward with renewed fervor.

Aldric’s lips curled into a manic smile. "Time to have some fun."

His shadows erupted like a tidal wave, plunging the room into darkness. The only illumination came from the bursts of spells, creating brief, chaotic flashes of light and color.

In the darkness, Aldric became the apex predator. He moved silently, his shadows guiding him to his prey. One by one, he picked off the attackers. The first witch never saw him coming; he struck from the shadows, his blade of darkness slicing through her defenses and ending her life in an instant. Her body crumpled silently to the floor.

The room was a cacophony of screams and spellfire. Witches cast spells wildly, hoping to hit their unseen foe, but Aldric was relentless. He thrived in the dark, his movements swift and deadly. He disarmed a mage, his shadows wrapping around the man’s throat, choking off his life force before moving to the next target.

Azrael, recovering his strength, joined the fray. He moved with a savage grace, his ravens attacking with a vengeance. They pecked and clawed, tearing through the witches’ defenses. Azrael’s fists crackled with dark energy as he delivered bone-shattering blows, his anger fueling his strength.

The witches and mages quickly realized they were outmatched. The darkness was their enemy, and within it, Aldric and Azrael were unstoppable. Fear began to seep back into their ranks as their numbers dwindled.

A witch, desperate and panicked, cast a bright light spell, illuminating the room for a brief moment. She caught a glimpse of Aldric, his face full of twisted thrill, his eyes glowing with a predatory light. The sight was terrifying, and she stumbled backward, her spell faltering.

Aldric seized the opportunity, closing the distance in an instant. He slashed through her with a blade of shadow, her body falling lifeless to the ground. He turned to the remaining attackers, his smile widening. "Who’s next?" he taunted, his voice echoing ominously in the darkness.

The few remaining witches and mages faltered, their bravery crumbling. They were no match for the combined might of Aldric and Azrael. In the span of moments, the battle turned from a chaotic melee to a slaughter.

Azrael’s ravens picked off stragglers, their beaks and talons tearing into flesh with ruthless efficiency. He moved through the darkness like a wraith, his eyes glowing with a cold, merciless light. His fists connected with brutal precision, shattering bones and ending lives.

Aldric’s shadows danced around him, a living extension of his will. He was a force of nature, his strikes swift and lethal. He thrived in the chaos, his laughter a chilling sound in the darkness. Each kill fueled his bloodlust, and he moved with a deadly grace, his shadows guiding him to his next target.

As the last of the attackers fell, Aldric and Azrael stood amidst the bodies, their breathing heavy, their eyes still glowing with residual power. The room was a ruin, debris scattered everywhere, and the stench of blood and death hanging in the air.