Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 22

The days following Verin's assassination passed in a blur. The council's reaction had been swift, and security throughout the city had doubled. Eren felt the weight of his actions in every corner, every alley—the city's pulse quickened with fear and suspicion, and he was the cause of it.

One evening, as he prepared to meet Niall, a familiar presence settled over him—silent, oppressive. Eren didn't turn, didn't acknowledge the figure lingering in the shadows of his room.

"Azrael," he murmured.

A figure stepped forward, his silhouette draped in darkness. Azrael, the enigmatic assassin who'd occasionally appeared in Niall's operations, had always seemed to drift in and out of reality itself. His mere presence was like a warning, an omen of death that lingered with a chill.

"Eren Valen," Azrael's voice was a soft rasp. "I have an offer for you."

Eren arched a brow. "Offers from you tend to come with a steep price."

Azrael's lips curled in a ghost of a smile. "I think you'll find the cost... acceptable."

Eren folded his arms, studying the assassin with narrowed eyes. "Go on."

Azrael held his gaze, unblinking. "I've been watching you. Your skills are... promising, but still raw. You lack control, restraint—the kind that true mastery demands."

Eren felt a flicker of irritation but forced himself to listen. Azrael had earned his reputation; his methods were brutal, but his results were undeniable. And, in a way, Eren respected him. Azrael embodied a darkness Eren was just beginning to understand.

Azrael leaned forward, his eyes glinting. "I can teach you. Train you in the arts beyond conventional magic. Shadows, misdirection, fear—tools that can make you truly untouchable."

Eren felt a surge of temptation. Since his rebirth in Ezura, he'd honed his strength, learning magic and combat skills. But Azrael's knowledge was something different, something dangerous and potent.

"And what do you get in return?" Eren asked, keeping his tone guarded.

Azrael's gaze turned calculating. "Loyalty. When I call upon you, you'll answer without question, without hesitation. For a time, you'll serve as my blade, just as I'll guide yours."

Eren felt the weight of the proposal. He'd come far, abandoning his old ideals and embracing a life of cold pragmatism. But this... this was a pact, a step into a darker abyss, binding himself to a man whose morality was a shadow of his own.

Azrael extended a hand, dark as the night itself. "What will it be, Eren Valen? Power or restraint?"

Eren hesitated only for a moment before grasping Azrael's hand. The pact was sealed in silence, a mutual acknowledgment of the darkness they both harbored.

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The next days were grueling. Azrael pushed him beyond anything he'd endured before, forcing him to strip away the remnants of his hesitation. Their training sessions were held in hidden, shadowed places—abandoned warehouses, desolate fields under a blood-red sky, and forgotten corners of the city where only whispers dared to tread.

Azrael taught him to blend with the shadows, to move without sound or trace, and to wield fear as a weapon. His lessons were harsh, often painful, demanding precision and control. Eren learned to master the art of deception, to mask his presence and intentions, to strike with unyielding efficiency.

One evening, as they trained in a deserted alley, Azrael threw him against a wall, his gaze cold. "Hesitation will get you killed, Eren. Mercy is weakness. You must discard it."

Eren clenched his fists, panting, blood trailing from his lip. "I'm not you, Azrael."

Azrael's eyes narrowed. "No, you're not. But if you want to survive, if you want to take the power you crave, you must be willing to become something... more."

Eren felt the truth of Azrael's words like a shard in his chest. He was on a path that had no room for compassion or restraint. And yet, the remnants of his old self still clung to him, ghosts of a life long past.

But he couldn't afford to dwell on those ghosts, not if he wanted to survive.

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Days turned into weeks, and Eren's skills sharpened under Azrael's ruthless tutelage. His movements became faster, his strikes more precise. He learned to anticipate his opponents' actions, to turn their strengths into weaknesses. Each lesson stripped away a part of his past self, leaving only the cold resolve of a man who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

One night, Azrael led him to a secluded rooftop overlooking a guarded estate—a fortified residence on the outskirts of the city, home to a minor council figure who had thwarted Niall's plans too many times.

Azrael nodded toward the estate. "Your final test."

Eren didn't need to ask for details. He'd learned enough to know what was expected. The councilor was to be eliminated, the message clear: those who defied them would pay the ultimate price.

He slipped down the rooftop and moved through the shadows, his approach silent and precise. Guards patrolled the perimeter, but he evaded them with ease, his body and mind attuned to Azrael's teachings. His target lay asleep in a lavish chamber, oblivious to the danger creeping ever closer.

As he raised his dagger, memories flickered through his mind—images of the person he'd once been, the ideals he'd held. But he pushed them aside, focusing only on the cold, calculated act before him.

He struck, swift and merciless. The councilor's eyes opened for a split second, filled with terror and confusion before the life drained from them. Eren felt no triumph, no satisfaction, only the hollow realization of what he'd become.

He returned to the rooftop, where Azrael awaited him, his expression unreadable. "You did well."

Eren felt a chill settle over him, deeper than the night air. "Is this it, then?"

Azrael tilted his head, studying him. "This is only the beginning. Power is a path without end, Eren. And those who walk it must be prepared to sacrifice everything."

Eren looked out over the city, the weight of Azrael's words settling heavily on him. He'd made his choice, accepted the price of power. But as he gazed into the darkness, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd lost something far more precious than he'd gained.

Azrael's voice echoed softly behind him. "Remember, Eren—when the time comes, you owe me your loyalty."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Eren alone on the rooftop, the silence pressing down on him like a shroud.

And as he stood there, he realized that the path he'd chosen had no turning back.

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