♱ Chapter • 89 ♱

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Azrael ⋅• ♱

It still hurt.

I could still feel my back throbbing and my neck burning, but I still stood, my eyes fixed on the table as I waited for an answer.

"Commander..." the creature’s weak voice, which should not have been more than 100 years old, made me call and I had to...