"Uncle Azazel, please stop blinking around."
Erik Lehnsherr looked helplessly at Red Devil Azazel, who kept teleporting around him in bursts of black smoke.
He was in the estate's underground training room, practicing the body-control techniques Mr. Howlett had taught him. He held a strange pose, crouched on one leg with a hand resting against his lower abdomen.
Standing atop a pillar just over a meter high, he struggled through a series of oddly paced breaths of varying lengths.
But Azazel's disruptions distracted him. He accidentally lost his balance and fell, rubbing his backside as he complained.
"Who are you calling uncle? I'm more like an old man like your dad."
Azazel cleared his throat in annoyance and continued, as if lecturing him. "The point of this static exercise is to quiet your mind. What was it your dad said? Don't get too happy, but don't get too unhappy either. Don't let outside factors disturb you."
It's 'Don't rejoice over material things or grieve over yourself, and don't let outside things disturb you.' And you're calling Mr. Howlett an old man? He looks a lot younger than you.
Erik grumbled to himself, but didn't dare say it aloud. Azazel aged extremely slowly and had a long lifespan, but it was hard to tell whether he looked young or old. Compared with James, he definitely came off worse.
"Azazel."
"Good heavens!"
Azazel jumped in fright and teleported to the side. He looked at his dad with lingering alarm. It was all too easy for James to appear without making a sound.
"Are you really so bored that you have to come and bother Erik?"
James looked helplessly at Azazel, who was already around fifty. Maybe long-lived species matured more slowly. Even now, the Red Devil still acted like an overgrown teenage