Death Heir’s Devouring System

[The Crimson Accord's flag has been stolen!]

'Troublesome.' Azrael cursed bitterly in his mind. He hadn't known that stealing the flag would have alerted every Chosen part of the battle.

Still, that didn't mean he was screwed; the fact that he had managed to get a grasp of the enemy's flag was much better than he could have anticipated.

Not even a second later he dashed backwards, eager to escape from the gazes of the Chosen.

Naturally, once the Chosen were alerted of their flag being stolen, they halted their charge at Cinder and went towards Azrael instead.

'The Remembrance helped me a ton; all that is left now is outrunning them.'

A chill passed over his spine hearing dozens of footsteps behind him. There was no doubt that numerous people were eager to take his life.

Telling himself to focus, he extended his senses to the limit, pushing his body even further.

Jumping off the rock he had been on, he headed for the next one, following his rapid escape route.

The moment he landed, his instincts screamed at him to duck. The moment he did, an arrow passed him by a hair's breadth.

Still he remained unfazed; with full force he ran.

"Who is that guy?" one of the pursuers asked.

"No idea. He isn't part of the Iron Howl, so he must be of the Ashen Vow!"

"But then why isn't he going toward his own base but to Iron Howl's?"

Azrael's plan was simple: no matter how fast he was, he wasn't outrunning so many Chosen. He would either be shot in the back or one of the pursuers would catch up.

As such, the next best course of action was to lead them towards the enemy instead.

Moving gracefully, he quickly reached the rocks, part of Iron Howl's territory.

"The Crimson Accord is here!" A Chosen of the Iron Howl shouted.

What followed was a chaotic, unorganized mess; his pursuers were forced to clash with the Iron Howl's members, halting in their tracks. It wasn't as if they could explain themselves, that they were only after Azrael and not for their flag as well.

Not one of the most honorable actions, but thankfully, he didn't care about useless things like that.

Making use of the chaos, Azrael masterfully evaded the enemy's gazes, sneaking away.

[The Iron Howl's flag has been stolen!]

[The Ashen Vow's flag has been stolen!]

It was only a matter of time until his own team's flag was stolen too. Azrael didn't let such a small detail shake his resolve.

Moving stealthily, he neared his base. Everything was going great until he met the gaze of another Chosen running away from his base.

On his back, a familiar flag was flaring wildly in the wind.

His own team's flag.

'Seriously? There were supposed to be six Chosen for defense; how could a single man take it from them?'

Shaking his head in disapproval, Azrael changed tactics.

A sudden revelation hit him—one that could win them the entire game.

With silent steps, he neared his enemy.

"Wha—" Taken by surprise, the Chosen called forth two sabers in an attempt to retaliate.

Azrael, stunned by the quick reaction of his foe, barely managed to evade in time, the saber's tip grazing his cheek.

The pain was too little for him to care; using his scythe like a lever, he positioned it behind his foe's legs and pulled, making him lose his footing.

"Shit!" the man cursed, attempting to get up.

But Azrael had another plan: stepping on the man's back and holding him in place, he carved his two legs in one quick motion.

A horrifying scream of dread came out of the Chosen's maw, tears falling down his eyes.

Azrael ignored him, moving faster. Stepping on the man's head to silence his pleas for help, he carved out his two arms as well.

Immediately after, he used [Blood Manipulation] to close the man's wounds by hardening the blood. That way the man should survive for a while longer.

Now, with him being immobilized and having fainted from the pain, Azrael picked up the head and the torso of the still-alive Chosen and continued on his way towards the base.

The VR simulation was truly a fascinating thing; the pain some could feel was so intense that they might faint on the spot, not just in the simulation but in the real world as well.

Thanks to that horrifying fact, Azrael's plan became possible, not just in theory, but in practice.

'I just might be a genius,' he thought, looking at the flag that was still on his foe's back.

This game had two specific rules: first, no one could move their own flag. Second, if a flag was stolen, the only way to return it was either to kill the bearer or wait for the bearer to place it at their own team's base. The options were clear: either wait for the enemy to place it, which would reset the flag, or steal it back directly from the thief.

And now Azrael was holding that thief in his grip.

He wouldn't kill him, of course; the man was too valuable.

Several minutes later, he returned to the base.

"You are back!" Chunk exclaimed, seeing him pass the trees.

Only for his face to pale seeing the body that Azrael was carrying.

"What are you doing—"

Not paying attention to Chunk, Azrael went over to their own flag and slammed down the Crimson Accord's flag next to it.

[Crimson Accord's flag has been claimed!]

A second later, one point was added to the Ashen Vow, putting them in the lead.

"Good." Azrael muttered, calling forth Cinder.

Shifting his attention to the still stunned Chosen from his team, he shouted.

"You weren't able to stop a single man. At least tell me that you have a rope item or something."

The Chosen blinked a few times until one stepped forward.

"I do, actually," he said, calling forth a rope.

Wordlessly, Azrael took the rope and used it to strap the Chosen's body to Cinder, securing their flag firmly on the Remembrance's back.

For one last measure, he summoned Mother Needle and pierced the man's jaws, clamping them shut using the blood that seeped out, sealing them for good.

That way the Chosen wouldn't be able to heal himself even if he had the items for it, nor would he be able to call for help.

"Go towards the boundaries of the battlefield," Azrael instructed Cinder. "As far and as high as you can go. Once you do, stay there and don't move."

Cinder tilted its head slightly, screeched, and soared towards the sky, with their own flag firmly secured on its back.

"Azrael…" Chunk, being the only one brave enough to speak, asked,

"What… what did you do?"

Azrael arched an eyebrow, his expression hidden behind the bloodied veil.

"No one can steal our flag if it's not there, right?"

He spoke calmly.

"So now no matter how many people they send our way, even if there are Champions among them, they will not be able to steal our flag."

Cracking his neck, Azrael stepped forward.

"Since there is no point in defending anymore, what do you say we go all out on the offense now?"