As his vision waned and blurred, he could only hear the gentle sound of Cam's footsteps as she walked quickly across the stone towards him.
Her thick leather boots stopped inches from his sprawled out figure with a scowl forged into her expression.
"What the hell did I tell you!? Every drop of mana in your body is gone!"
Each word was laced with anger and annoyance; however, out of the corner of his mind, a mixed tone of concern and worry echoed through her speech.
Bending down carefully, her clasped hands slowly opened, revealing a small cross-shaped whistle that glowed a divine hue.
Its warmth soothed the boy with the flow of mana within his body, sealing like a dam holding back a flood.
"The Ghostship will overload you if you continue to expend energy at this rate. You'll need at least a few weeks of rest before you can even wield your blade again…"
She was cut off by a shout that came from across the chamber near to where Abigail lay bound to a table.
It was the voice of a boy that Aaron had feared to hear after his failure to rescue his sister; however, it wasn't something he could control anymore.
Ezra stood over the charred-looking girl with an expression of utter shock and terror as he gazed at her form.
With the last of his strength, the blond boy propped himself against a crate, allowing him to watch the scene.
Cam's eyes had turned to the black-haired boy with a look of sorrow flashing for a moment.
"He insisted on following me. The grandson of Lord Javier Flock, who would've thought he would be living on the streets…"
She pursed her lips as if in deep thought before rising from the floor and walking over towards the two siblings.
Ezra's eyes had glazed over with the look of distress soaked deep into his bones, a feeling of complete and utter loss.
One that Aaron understands well, yet not to the degree of this.
As the brown-haired woman approached, he backed away, allowing her to feel the girl's lifeless body.
For a single moment, there was silence as her face twisted in surprise and shock.
"She's alive…?"
It was an unexpected turn of phrase that startled both boys who watched from the sidelines.
Each of their faces lit up in confusion and excitement at the statement of the Marshal, immediately believing her words.
In a hurried motion, Cam waved her hand over the girl's body, blowing away the black-dust at once, revealing what lay below.
Instead of a burned corpse, what appeared was pale white flesh that shone with sunlight from the setting sun above.
Her eyes were gently shut, yet with a quick flutter, they blinked to life, showing the multi-colored pupils dart around the room in fear.
Looking at the brown-haired woman, she contracted her tiny form into a ball where she soon caught a glimpse of Aaron far in the corner.
His broken and bloody figure only furthered her terror as she closed herself off more and more, hiding away from the cruel world that had brought her to the edge of death.
There was a deafening silence that overtook the room as Ezra took a step forward, lips trembling, face wrought with worry.
Abigail's face was covered with her hands as she shook in absolute despair and terror awaiting her end, yet the warm touch around her arm sent a shock through her body.
Her eyes popped open, peeping through a small crack between her fingers, allowing her to gaze upon the only person she had left in the world.
Ezra, her best friend and brother, stood right next to her with tears dripping down his cheeks.
Instinctively, she outstretched her tiny hands, carefully wiping away the trails of water that poured from his eyes.
For a moment, the family was reunited, and even the stern Marshal cracked a smile as she placed the young girl onto the floor gently.
The two siblings embraced as they cried, prompting the brown-haired woman to step away and return to Aaron's side.
"I never thought the rumors were true…"
Her calm words entered the blond boy's ears quietly as he furrowed his brow in confusion, awaiting further elaboration.
"The Flock family was said to be cursed. Ancient feuds among deities spawned a conflict written in the cosmos above, altering the forces at play."
She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"As a result of such divine wars, the God of Dreams rose to his current position and also gained him authority to choose a saint to oversee his church..."
The sound of cracking stone far above caused her to look up with a concerned look deepening across her face.
Aaron himself was frozen not only from his injuries but by the pure insanity of what she was saying.
Divine war? God of Dreams? Rose to a position?
Questions spiraled through his head, driving him into further confusion as she spoke again, this time with finality.
"The human chosen was, of course, the one already tied to this deity, Javier Flock, who first wielded the Ghostship Lord Quinn sails today."
Her tone darkened as she faced the children who helped each other stand shoulder to shoulder once again.
"Instead of accepting such a position, Flock denied the god his wish, enraging the deity and making him a laughing stock among the heavens. It was an offense that could not be forgotten so easily…"
Aaron's eyes glazed over as the world began to darken with the incessant murmurs of the Apex-terror drowning out her words.
"In return for his refusal, the entire bloodline was to be cursed with bodies resistant to mana. Similar to myself, their cores are deficient and useless; however, not only that, but their very souls resist it."
Finishing her lengthy speech, she pulled a vial of red liquid from inside her cloak, handing it to the groggy Aaron, who looked like he was going to pass out at any second.
Penelope remained silent throughout Cam's story, yet the feeling of pure rage radiated from deep within the boy's body, signaling her emotions.
It was a story like her own, wronged by the gods for disobeying their high and mighty authority.
"W-What… What do you mean… Resist?"
Popping the lid off the bottle, he turned it upward, pouring the concoction down his throat quickly.
Instantly, horrible, spine-chilling agony coursed through his throat, shocking his brain awake while the irritating voice inside his head faded away.
Looking down at him in pity, Cam could only sigh and respond in the only way she knew he would understand.
"Anyone descended from Javier Flock is immune to all magic. Whether it be healing or offensive, they are completely incapable of being touched by it."
And with her words, she watched as the blond boy's body stiffened, then collapsed into a pile as he fell into a slumber.
"A blessing and a curse…"
…
Three days later, the chaos in the city of Corvassa had begun to fade with the news of the appearance of the hooded 'Angel of Waves' being spread as far as Svall.
The city itself was a mess of rumors and stories about supposed sightings of the angel; however, not everyone welcomed the news
Below the depths of a prosperous farm lay a massive underground facility.
Hundreds of men and women raced around attempting to gather information on the mysterious figure, yet not a single clue turned up.
Everything was due to be reported to the one at the top, the commander of the Seven Head Order and the incarnation of a devil.
And he himself stood before a massive pulsating ball of chains that roared with the sound of metal.
Flakes of rust and iron coated every surface of the round chamber as he gracefully altered the very structure of the sphere, forming it into a cube, then a pyramid, and finally into a prism.
His formerly short black horns were replaced with thick, arching red antlers that glowed with a bloody hue.
The once-perfect suit he wore had been replaced with a black and red tuxedo whose leather surface was covered in crimson liquid.
Under his breath, he muttered strange words and sentences seemingly to himself as he placed his hands onto a small object inside his pocket.
"I'm certain it's him."
"No, it's impossible for a human to escape those seals."
"It's clear you haven't ever fought him since you can say such things."
"One man couldn't possibly be that strong."
"He is far stronger than even the gods."
As he argued with himself, he slowly removed his hand from within his pants, revealing a magnificent piece of clockwork that any watchmaker would marvel at.
Its green face was covered in blood as the golden exterior defied the very laws of physics, with rust coating the surface.
Crafted by a god and wielded by a Sea King, Fortuna's Pocketwatch glowed with an enraged lime colored hue that betrayed hidden characteristics behind layers of security.
"Be sure, my friend, that it wouldn't matter if he had truly freed himself from that thing's watchful eye. For no matter what he does or who he does it for, he would lack the means of challenging us."
"If you two fought at full strength, then who would win?"
As he spoke the words aloud, he paused, thinking deeply to himself, then responded plainly.
"I'd lose, of course."