Aaron remained seated until all Marshals except Cam departed, leaving only him, her, and Alex Lispentine in the quiet chamber.
Heavy silence weighed over the space before the guildmaster spoke, with such firm resolution that it nearly made the blond boy flinch.
"Camilla. Why did you leave out the detail about him being a contractor of the God of Poison?"
It wasn't a question he was posing, more so an interrogation, demanding any and all information that the woman might have hidden from him, as well as an explanation for such secretiveness.
Instead of buckling under the pressure of her superior, Cam straightened her posture, causing her brown hair, tied in a long braid, to swing briskly behind her back.
"There isn't much to tell. He had never mentioned the contract to me until I heard about it from others. Furthermore, it's just a subcontract, and the abilities granted through it are minuscule. Poison resistance is hardly enough to make me suspect anything or to warrant an investigation into my actions."
She spoke with absolute honesty, her tone unwavering and bare as she answered her boss's question.
Pursing his lips and rasping his fingers along the edge of his throne, Alex sighed as he leaned backwards, speaking again.
"Perhaps so. However, not even reporting it is troubling. We are on the verge of a great revolution against those chosen by the gods themselves. The more of their contractors we have on our side, the easier job we will have dividing heaven enough to prevent our immediate erasure."
Aaron's eyes widened at his words, the sheer indication of seeding a revolt in the heavens themselves enough to send shivers down his spine.
Penelope was absolutely silent while the Naelith hushed its voice down to a whisper in the presence of the Marshal of Ancients.
Cam, however, did not act shocked by the information; instead, she quickly rebutted with an opinion of her own.
"You know my thoughts on the decision to move on the Sea of Ancients, and you understand why I cannot condone this idea in any way. While you have the support of the amateur Marshals, you lack the approval from both Masaru and me. Fighting a Sea King is no small feat, regardless of the assailant's identity."
As she finished, a laugh could be heard from the guildmaster's throat, a smile making its way across his lips.
"You defeated the King of Wishes when you were younger than him."
He pointed over at Aaron, who paled at the sudden attention he had attracted, Cam's own brown eyes shifting over to find his face.
After the weeks they had spent together, she had known not to attempt to decipher Aaron's mind to a certain degree.
Taking a moment to think, she groaned, replying with an annoyed tone of voice.
"He was insane and half dead when he came to my village. I only finished the job that the other Kings had already started. Even when his body was shredded down to only bone, he continued to fight, muscle and flesh not of need to a monster like him."
Her words were directed straight at the golden-haired president, his brow furrowing downward as he fell into thought.
"Aaron."
The man turned his gaze away from the woman and back to the youthful challenger, who looked at him with slight fear.
"Do you understand what we have discussed about here?"
The man's golden eyes flickered with fragments of dim light reflected from the ceiling, his voice stern, as if trying to emphasize the weight of their conversation.
"You plan for war."
The boy's short reply was only a whisper; however, it was all he needed to say to make the guildmaster nod at his words.
Pondering the response for a moment, the president stared absentmindedly into the darkness that fell over the corners of the room.
"Yes. Yes, I do. This war will change the very construct of our world for eons to come, and you will be a part of it, my boy."
Standing up, he straightened his tie, looking down at the blond child whose turquoise eyes bore straight into his own.
"The Association is corrupt, and its power needs to be balanced regardless of how it is done. Don't you see it, Aaron? The world is in the hands of the wealthy nobles who govern these vast territories of endless prosperity, yet leave nothing in the palms of those whose blood and tears maintain the very foundation of their perfect little society."
He paused, and his fiery expression faded, replaced with a solemn look of lamentation.
"Without the right to rule, those who make the laws that hold us chained use their strength to force the weak into submission. Without challenge, they face no repercussion for their sins, and I have prepared to claim victory no matter the cost. Have you ever felt that the Kings have your own best interests at heart? Do they attempt to sway you into their Association with offers of wealth or power? Have they threatened your life? For most, that is the reality and a reality I have devoted my life to changing."
Alex Lispentine turned his back to the boy, his eyes focused on the door that he walked towards at a steady pace.
His fingertips grazed against every throne he passed, his hands eventually landing on that of the Swordsman of the South.
"My own Marshals seek peace in a time where such a thing isn't attainable. I know they have the best intentions at heart, but it pains me to fight against them when I need their aid to save this world. I do not blame them. I do not shun them. I hold none of this against them. All I wish is for this fallen world of waves to see the sparks of peace once again."
Walking ahead, he gripped the door handle tight, opening the lock with ease and disabling the low-tier barrier that barred regular challengers from entry.
With one last glance, the imposing man showed Aaron a sad expression, one not befitting of someone in his position.
"I trust you'll make the right choice when the time comes. For now, I encourage you to seek out the Association. Learn their ways, find out what they can offer you. You should have the choice to determine where you will stake your claim in this dangerous world."
Then, before the blond boy could respond, he exited the chamber, leaving him and Cam alone in their thrones.
They did not speak as they stood up and left, each going their separate way, even though the original reason for Aaron coming there was to meet her—it just didn't seem like the right time to talk anymore.
…
Thick sand coated the ground of the indoor arena, which had training dummies standing by the walls, their bodies protected by defensive magic, just like the rest of the arena, to prevent any mishaps from damaging the Chrone Castle.
In the center of this chamber, Aaron Grimstall held his blade in a shrunken form, the size of a small dagger that could fit in one hand.
As a weapon forged in Heavenly Ichor, Penelope's corporeal form was more a concept than it was a rigid design, allowing her size to vary depending on the usage.
Gripping the leather hilt tightly, he scanned the testing site around him, twenty of the dolls moving along hidden strings in a circular pattern around him.
These dolls were yet another brilliant invention from the mind of Cauron Thorn, created with the help of his new 'Forever Magic'.
Capable of moving like they had a will of their own, they were the perfect training partners for any rookie.
So, the boy narrowed his eyes and took a shallow breath as he dug into the sand to reinforce his stance.
Then, faster than the eye could see, he launched forward, slicing the glistening orange barrier around one of the moving statues' heads.
Before the shield could collapse, he hit one, then two, then three other heads in less than a second.
When compared to his usual weapon choice, the large broadsword form of the Ocean's Bane, this more agile and compact form allowed for more versatile destruction.
He doubted he could slice through any real armor, and therefore, he still preferred the old style; however, against a lightly protected opponent, this was the perfect fit.
Attempting to slash at the thirteenth dummy, he was outmaneuvered by it, as the magical system gradually adapted to his speed and agility.
Flinging itself up, it moved its wooden arm quickly, slicing downward with its dull sword that shone with rust.
The pointed edge nearly struck one of his increasingly more prevalent turquoise strands; however, with a clean slice upwards, he split the doll and its weapon into two separate pieces.
Dammit! Control!
Kicking the descending corpse out of the air, he turned his attention back to the remaining seven, who all faced him at different angles.
Faster than he could think, they charged at him, some leaping in the air, some crawling on the ground, and some attempting to approach him head-on.
Moving quickly, he blocked a strike to his neck, deflecting the dummy's blade and sending it clattering to the floor.
Performing a crescent kick with his metallic leg, he crushed the skulls of the two crawling fakes, their bodies going limp immediately.
However, in this brief moment of distraction, another one had slipped behind him, its sword aimed straight at the small of his back.
Noticing the barrier he had wrapped around his flash waver, he ducked and slashed at the doll behind him.
But wielding a dagger instead of his usual long sword, he severely overestimated his reach, and the blade only cut air before slipping from his hand.
He had defaulted to his old training, unable to adapt fast enough to the changed conditions, and was now facing the price for it.
Feeling the two blades collide with his barrier, the boy gritted his teeth and grabbed the sharp edges with his bare, vulnerable hands.
Holding tight enough to draw blood, he pressurized his prosthetic leg and used it toflip backwards, pulling the metal weapons along with him.
Flying through the air and landing on the firm sand a few steps away, he balanced himself and threw the two stolen shortswords like knives, each one embedding itself into a doll's face.
Their shields cracked and flickered, but they did not break; their hands closing into fists as they raced towards the now defenseless boy.
Hand-to-hand combat?
Dropping his stance, he raised his hands in front of his face, his legs maneuvering him into a position more suited for a swift exchange of blows.
The first one came in with a hook, Aaron's arm raising to the side of his head to deflect while his other fist uppercutted the wooden figure's jaw.
His knuckles collided against the dummy's incorporeal shield, creating a flurry of sparks before his hand passed through, and caused the doll's head to turn backwards from the sheer force of his punch.
Before the blond boy could finish it off, a roundhouse kick slammed into his right side, the air in his lungs nearly being knocked from his lips.
Without time to react, he instinctively leaped backwards, raising his guard and strengthening his vital points with additional mana.
Hearing the jab before he saw it, he performed another crescent kick, hooking the wooden creature's arm and knocking it towards the ground.
Gravity did the rest as he launched onto the defenseless dummy, its skull cracking against the sand as Aaron slammed his heel into its roughly modelled maw.
Six left.
Three charged at him at once, the others prowling around waiting for an opportunity to strike as they watched the boy defend.
He, however, only smiled, ducking another kick and landing an uppercut into the groin of one of the creatures.
While not being alive, they were quite human-like, allowing pain receptors to flare and the doll to fall to its feet.
Not wasting the opportunity, he raised his leg, kicking its skull like a ball, the spherical shape flying across the room and colliding with another one of the dummies, killing it instantly.
Four.
Breathing heavily, he parried a straight jab, his other hand circling his opponent, allowing him to grasp the doll's shoulder, which he swiftly used to lift it above his head.
The wooden machine tried to stab him with its blade; however, because of the close proximity, it could not do anything, especially with such a dull weapon.
Therefore, as Aaron threw the figure over his hip and into the ground, it had no way to resist and crashed into the floor with a loud thud, its gears springing out in every direction.
From behind, two more dolls attempted to behead him with their swords, only for the boy's mechanical leg to launch him upward, avoiding the danger by a hair.
As they turned their expressionless heads to react, it was already too late, his heels slamming into their blades, knocking them away.
Mechanical as they were, they could not feel pain or fear, so they simply raised their empty hands, curling them up to continue the assault
Aaron responded in kind, throwing punch after punch, parry after parry, and block after block.
When the dummies attempted to pin him down, he dug his right elbow into one of their jaws, splitting it open right there.
The other lost a leg from when the boy ripped it off with pure strength, its body crackling with broken circuits and other electronic parts.
In the background, the final of the training dolls had begun to move, Aaron's brow dripping with sweat as he circled the one who had just received a blow in its jaw to approach the newcomer instead.
Cracking a slim smile, he rushed forward as if he was going to strike the skull of the closer doll; however, as he was about to reach it, he slid, tackling the creature's legs and sending it crumbling to the ground.
Instantly gaining control over the stunned machine, he tore the circuits from its skull, holding them like he would brain matter between his fingers.
Standing in the middle of the training ground littered with broken bodies, the last of the dolls faced him proudly, its rusty sword gleaming as it stared at its fallen comrades.
Releasing a puff of steam, it leaped forward, its sword colliding against Aaron's pointer finger in a clash.
Holding it there and yawning, the turquoise-eyed boy slowly clasped his entire hand around the blade.
He then pulled with all his force, driving the hilt straight out of the dummy's hand, pressing it into hand-to-hand combat, just like he was before.
It was a losing battle regardless—with the dulled sword, Aaron sliced the creature's skull in two before it could even ready itself.
Its head fell gently to the ground as the boy stared at the now silent room filled with dead machines.
Perhaps I should work on my close-range fighting…