There were several reasons why he chose to attack them, beyond the need to raise his Purity Rank.
They didn't wear the uniform all members of the Moon Breakers had to, which meant they were from the Elite school.
If his theory was correct, killing them would net him added points to his overall score at the end.
But the most important reason was the way they looked.
It was a party of three, meaning they outnumbered them by one. However, the way they walked made it clear they weren't confident. They might have been among the best the Elite school had to offer, but even among the very best, there would be weak ones that set them apart from the rest.
And Azrael was pretty sure this group was one of them. He used [Inspect] just to be sure.
Ascension Level: [Marked]
Purity Rank: [Chosen]
His body tensed not just because it was getting ready for the battle ahead but also, something deep in his soul made him want to kill them. For their souls were pure, and he needed that purity now more than ever.
Without hesitating, he dashed, moving with silent, deliberate steps. The air along his path was cut from the sharpness of his deadly scythe.
Fighting against Chosen wasn't the same as fighting monsters. One was deadly, threatening to conquer everything along its path, while the other was mindless for the most part.
Sadly, even following the lessons Iris had drilled deep into his bones, he wasn't swift or silent enough to stay undetected.
The Chosen at the back of the group spotted Azrael.
"Moon Breakers!" he shouted, summoning his weapons into his hands. Twin sabers that rivaled Azrael's weapon's sharpness. No doubt it was of the Blessed Rank at least.
The two teammates he had sided with reacted as well. The only woman in the group summoned a bow that let out a faint glow in her left hand while summoning an arrow in her other.
The third roared, a shield that covered his whole body materialized. His grip tight on his weapon—a mace that seemed ready to obliterate everything in its path.
Before Azrael could reach his target, an arrow was knocked his way.
He grimaced as time seemed to slow down. No matter if one was a Chosen or not, should an arrow pierce one's head, the person was as good as dead.
Most would have panicked—but not him. It wasn't just because he was capable of dodging the projectile thanks to Iris's lessons. No, he had stared down a dagger mere inches from his eye. He was the one who had once been willing to gouge out his own eye, just to prove he was worthy. Something like this wasn't enough to faze him.
His body twisted, dodging the projectile hurled his way. The next instant, his scythe met the sabers of his foe.
The sound of metal scraping against metal echoed in the vicinity once the weapons clashed. It was clear the strength of both men was somewhat equal.
However, Azrael's foe had the advantage, for he wielded two weapons instead of one. Taking a step forward, he slashed—one saber going for Azrael's knee, the other for his neck.
At the same time, another arrow was sent his way, aimed to pierce his eye.
Azrael remained unfazed.
He spun his scythe—the blade managed to intercept the saber going for his neck, while the handle stopped the one going for his leg.
At the same time, he moved his head slightly, avoiding the arrow by a hair's breadth.
The third Chosen had been about to pounce on him as well, however, before he could, Victor attacked him.
He had made use of Azrael's attack—while their attention was fully on him, he had managed to sneak up on them even with his staggering height.
A grunt escaped the shield-bearer's mouth once he met Victor's attack with his shield. The force of the attack had been too much, he staggered back.
Victor's emerald eyes glimmered—he was fully intending on making full use of the opportunity before him.
Due to the approach of another foe, a flicker of hesitation passed over the archer's face.
That moment was brief—shorter than a second.
Yet this was the fatal mistake Azrael had been waiting for his foes to make.
He lowered his body—one of the sabers just going over his head.
Then, letting go of the scythe with one hand, he reached into his belt and took out a dagger. He had the habit of carrying an extra weapon for emergencies.
He loved scythes to death, however, he was well aware that everything had upsides and downsides.
Daggers had much shorter range than a scythe, so his foe didn't expect him to close the distance so much.
Without hesitation, Azrael rammed the dagger into the Chosen's ribs.
A grunt escaped the man's mouth, the grip on his sabers weakening.
Making use of the chance, Azrael beheaded the man with a single strike.
[Pure soul has been devoured. The flicker in your soul grows brighter.]
This was the first time Azrael heard the announcement of killing a Chosen. Since the first time he did, he had yet to have obtained a system.
However, his focus remained unbroken. Not letting the enemy rest, he dashed toward the archer.
The woman's eyes widened in horror, sending several arrows his way. Due to her fear, she hadn't been able to aim properly, resulting in all of them missing their mark.
The next second, Azrael's scythe found itself deep in her heart.
[Pure soul has been dev—]
Azrael eyed Victor and his foe. Unsurprisingly, he was almost done as well.
"What the hell are you?!" the only remaining Chosen of the trio roared, mace going for Victor's body.
The momentum of the swing was cut abruptly. The behemoth of a man had caught the handle of the weapon, stopping the attack without hindrance.
"Weak," he grinned as he headbutted the man.
The teeth of the Chosen broke, as did his nose. He let go of his shield, exposing himself for attack, collapsing to the ground.
"Farewell," Victor mused, bringing his foot down, shattering his foe's head. Brain matter exploded everywhere.
Azrael heaved a sigh, taking a peek at his Purity Progression.
Purity Progression: [3/100]
It wasn't that significant of a gain, yet the strain on his body lessened. Not enough to combat the side effects of increasing his Corruption so much, but he wasn't discouraged. As the saying goes—drop by drop, an ocean could be filled.
It was proof enough that increasing his Purity did indeed lessen the pressure on his mind that the Corruption placed him under.
After confirming that he hadn't been inflicted with any life-threatening injuries—just now realizing that his cheek had been grazed by one of the arrows—he continued his search for Chosen, his companion not far behind. He headed toward the Rift, where he'd figured most of the Chosen would gather.
Meanwhile, on the opposite side of the deadly Rift, two women stood above a mountain of corpses. Not even a smear of blood tainted their beautiful crimson attire.
"This is too easy, are they toying with us?" Seraphina's shoulders slumped, eyes inspecting the Rift in the distance.
She cracked her neck, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the source of the Corruption, Isolde a few steps behind—silent as death itself.
To continue progressing, they needed a greater challenge, so they decided to seek it out themselves.