“She won’t ever be this young again.”

Osias bristled at that, visibly irked.

He…he liked her, perhaps even more than he knows himself. He wants nothing more than for her to be happy — and if it wasn’t too much to desire… he also wished for him to be that person to make her happy.

To be her home, as she was for him.

…Shaking his head, Osias focused on his task at hand. There were two things he needed to achieve through this sparring session with Mance.

But breaking through his attempt to focus, Mance continued:

“Is it your ambition, boy? Is that the reason why you keep her at arm’s reach away, never accepting her as your own like she has to you? I came to know that your ambition is strong when I guided you through your Ordeal. To where it will take you…”

“You said it was three years inside your Ordeal, correct?”

In the next moment, Osias watched as the space where Mance once stood turned to a black mist of sorts. And as though a mighty gust blew in the training hall, the black wind swelled right in front of him, but he prepared accordingly and met Mance’s sword that emerged from the black wind followed by the rest of his armored body.

‘Not Clan Grimm’s essence control and techniques?’ Osias immediately discovered the change of technique from Mance’s usual from just the first touch of steel. It wasn’t the firm and grounded method of Clan Grimm, honed and tempered as it was the day Osias witnessed it in the courtyard all that time ago.

Disregarding the odd change, he matched Mance’s physical might, making sure not to display all his capabilities in the first exchange. Besides, they were fighting with Ordinary weapons rather than ones befitting them, perhaps Mance was limiting his strength as well and focused on technique.

Mance raised a small eyebrow and his face turned long as their blades grinded against each other.

“Indeed… I’m sorry you suffered for three years. You needn’t explain, I already know the nature of the Ordeals and what one must do to obtain such strength.”

Osias grunted, dismissing Mance’s words. Fluidly moving with the grace of a seasoned veteran to counter and throwback Mance only for him to switch to a sharp, vicious, and almost primal assault to follow. He weaved his essence into an erratic, yet skillful rhythm of violence and cruelty, kicking Mance’s knee to stagger him down.

But before he could swipe at Mance’s armored neck, he turned to the same black wind that whirled around in a vicious gale, nicking Osias’s face and arms as he heard a shy shriek sound from atop the rails overlooking the training hall.

‘I’m sorry, Myra.’ He said inwardly… though he didn’t know exactly what for. He didn’t want to worry her — such things inflicted him with more pain than any blade could.

But that was exactly the reason… that he couldn’t acknowledge the pain from a blade as anything more than a hindrance, unlike Myra.

‘Did Mance bring her along because of this? Asking those questions too?’

Wildly slashing his great sword in a brutal arc at where he sensed Mance’s true body, he forced Mance to reform himself. There, he used his blood sense to strike Mance’s Ordinary blade away before slamming his shoulder against the experienced warrior, overwhelming him with power and strength as Mance grunted at the weight of his blow.

Without reprieve, Osias swung his sword down as though he was executing Mance.

Yet another gust of black wind saved Mance from imminent death…

Mance emerged from his black gale behind Osias, dragging his blade along Osias’s arm to block it from any further damage.

Looking down at his bloodied arm, Osias narrowed his eyes.

‘Did he coat his blade in that cutting black wind?’

Choosing against using Blood Mend in front of Mance, Osias continued his assault on the incorporeal Mance, biding his time.

Huffing out a low, guttural sound, Osias parried another attack dangerously, but it was enough to create an opportunity to cut Mance at the elbow.

Osias’s essence rhythm turned violent, bursting with vigor and ferocity as he followed the cut with a heavy blow with the butt of his sword’s hilt. Though it managed to slightly crumple the area of impact, his hilt warped and was too damaged to wield.

“I’m astonished… did you already weave such rhythms and patterns into your essence control?” Mance asked with an intrigued tone, waiting for Osias to grab another weapon from the rack.

“I did… I killed a Second Ordeal inside my Ordeal — far from a weak one too. I couldn’t have done it otherwise.”

Mance’s eyebrows shot up in response. Such a feat was unheard of, and Osias as an Ordinary possessed immense battle strength. To kill a being of the Second Ordeal, crossing two entire levels was extraordinary.

“You… you understand that the feat you accomplished inside your Ordeal is unheard of?” Mance said, eyeing the wicked curved saber Osias picked out.

Osias didn’t respond, leaving silence in his wake as his saber dragged along the stone tiles below his feet. The familiar feeling of a grating saber’s tip against stone brought back memories of fighting Surtil, son of the damnable general of gold.

“Your essence control and consequent blade techniques… it's hard to read. It’s like I’m fighting against a disciplined warrior only to face a rabid dog with bared fangs the next moment.”

Mance turned into another violent gale of black, but instead of whirling around to find a usually impossible angle of attack as he did so before, he chose to meet Osias from the front without deceit.

Their blades clashed and Mance was pushed back despite the force of his gale thrusting him towards Osias.

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“But it feels like you can read me…” Mance uttered under his ragged breath. Osias caught a little irritation that edged Mance’s words.

Osias stifled a smirk. ‘If only he knew about my blood connection. It’s weaker than Kiran but through this exchange… I can tell that it’s about ten meters. Anything beyond that and my sense grows mute, but this is enough to gain quite the advantage.’

“I can. Very well too.” Osias replied, slamming his foot against Mance’s torso with a deathly rattle.

Once more, Mance raised his eyes in shock… astonished at Osias’s strength.

“Forgive me for asking, but your Ordeal Ability… how much stronger can you get?” Mance asked through heavy heaving breaths, his hands brushing along the indent made on his armor.

‘Good,’ Osias thought. This was the first goal Osias wanted to achieve in this spar — he was alluding to Mance of his Ordeal Ability without outright mentioning it. It was a little taxing to limit his strength earlier, but now he could display it in its monstrous entirety to convince Mance.

Although it was likely unnecessary to do so, he didn’t mention nor use his entire physical might. Partly because it wouldn’t seem natural for a Path Finder to inform another of their capabilities so flippantly.

‘What was it that Kiran said back then…’ He tried to recall something as his face turned long.

It was something Kiran mentioned, no, asked a long time ago… how they can use their tattoos to hide, taking advantage of the fact that nobody knew what they could do.

‘Perhaps Kiran had this same idea in mind back then.’

Osias was to the front as Path Finder who possesses a strengthening Ordeal Ability, not a sort of healing from Blood Mend. If he hadn’t done this, he was bound to draw more suspicion into his hazy origins.

His hefty stature, hair color, vicious War Art, and rarely-seen battle strength were already enough to be suspicious of after all.

‘Will I have to shave my head?’ He wondered, bringing a shy hand over his shaggy grey crown.

But his worries were cut off as Mance moved with the ferocious black wind once more, though a little hesitation was seen in Mance’s eyes before he turned into the wind.

‘Because I can read where he is, even through his Ordeal Ability?’

Yet Mance’s hesitation wasn’t unfounded as Osias anticipated where Mance would attack from. Weaving away from another black gust of Mance’s blade, Osias decided to move.

Mance could almost sense this as he retracted his blade immediately pulling away into his guard, but Osias had a wild glint in his eyes.

He could anticipate the rhythms of Mance, and prepare accordingly to what he’ll likely do next based on how he is moving his essence… it was practically the next step from observing how a person moves with just sight.

‘Ah… he went back to Clan Grimm’s style. Abandoning that baleful offense?’ Osias quickly noticed even before Mance moved according to the change of style but Osias’s blade was unwavering in its heavy assault.

Smashing through before Mance could put up Clan Grimm’s firm guard, Osias hefty sword stopped right against Mance’s face.

With the force he put into it, even an Ordinary blade could’ve killed Mance with the way Osias was now.

“Thank you, Mance,” Osias said, pulling back his sword, achieving the second goal he wanted to achieve with this spar — to prove to himself where he stood when it comes to his battle strength.

Mance remained still and silent for a while before pulling himself up, leaning against his sword.

“It was a pleasure, Osias. You’ve grown strong.”

They walked back to the rack of weapons situated below the balcony where Myra stood, and Osias even made sure to glance up to see her expression.

There, he saw a beaming and proud face that made him want to melt on the spot.

Behind him, Mance appeared to have noticed what he was feeling before asking quietly:

“Osias, part of the reason I came here was to ask you of your intentions. She must’ve told you that her father and uncle served under Henrik, correct?”

Osias quickly lowered his bashful hand from rubbing his head before turning around to Mance.

“I… yes, she told me of it.”

“Mm… Heed my advice here. Wed her. You can enter the ranks of Clan Grimm and usher both yourself and her into a high standing when we return to the inlands and our home mountain city. You’ll be respected there with your battle strength — you’ll practically be a Second Ordeal in status.”

Osias paused, thinking to himself.

‘After Myra and myself trail along the merchants… if I don’t find Kiran, what then? Will I… risk remaining here? Perhaps Kiran was wrong, that the land of the Tailed Brothers wasn’t safe. Maybe it was safe… I haven’t been persecuted and hunted down yet. There was an entire war brewing, right? They must care about that more than two stragglers of a fallen band.’

‘That can’t be too bad, can it? I…I can remain with Myra. And Mance isn’t wrong, we could live a great life.’

But he was… conflicted. He still owed it to everyone who entrusted both himself and Kiran with all there was with the Red Sky. Although he wasn’t inclined to simply seek the deaths of everyone who played a role in eradicating his family and his people… the deaths of their leaders would suffice. It would also suffice in proving their Blood Path, as Garm said, no matter how Osias felt about the man who tortured him in the pursuit of strength.

“I–I still need time. I can’t say for certain where I will go, but Clan Grimm has sheltered me well. I’m sure to remain here for a long time to return my debt but after that? I… don’t know.”

“Is it revenge? Vengeance? Revenge against the Tailed Brothers for striking down your people? I’m sorry for bringing up such a time, but Henrik told me of your past.”

“No… I’m fine with it. But revenge? I don’t… I don’t know about it.” Osias responded, half a lie.

Mance brought a thoughtful hand to rub his chin with a faint smile, “Good. Revenge against them is foolish. Not only are they too powerful to even think of such a thing, but we as Clan Grimm are also part of the Tailed Brothers too after all. I… I was worried you’ve learned nothing of what happened with the Half-Moon Clan.”

Coming right alongside Osias, Mance said in an endearing tone unfitting his stern and unforgiving appearance, “Osias, I can only give you my advice, but think it over. Please. It’d be a shame to disregard her feelings… her love. She’s already lost everyone aside from her mother. It's not as though I’m forcing you to love her… you already know that you cherish her.”

Mance’s words seeped deep into Osias’s mind and soul. It troubled him greatly… balancing what he wanted and what he was entrusted with.

‘What if I find Kiran when Myra takes me along with the merchants? Will we still head for the Northern Wind Union after that? Can I convince Myra to come along? But she’ll… she’ll be taken far away from her home. Her mother.’

Mounting his great sword back to where he grabbed it from, he heard the dainty and playful steps echoing down the stairs — Myra’s steps. Yet those familiar steps felt especially loud to his ears, echoing in the hollow chambers within his heart…

“Osias! You beat him! Ha, Mance, you’ve grown old!” Myra said with a melodious laugh, patting Mance’s back before rushing to Osias with her arms stretched to embrace him.

“You’ve done it! You fought well, Osias.” She said, her proud laughter ringing out as she jumped into him.

Osias opened his arms to welcome her beaming leap, but his eyes trailed away from her… landing on Mance’s thoughtful face from behind her. It was as though Mance’s expression was telling Osias to consider his advice once more.

‘The way her fingers grace my scars and old wounds, it felt as if the pain never existed…’

And so with the most gentle, beautiful, hopeful, caring bundle of home that clung to his chest with the endearing arms… Osias made his choice.

Whether Kiran was found or not… he’ll remain here alongside her.

If need be, he’ll convince Kiran to remain here as well. If it was dangerous, then he alongside Kiran and the rest of Clan Grimm will grow strong enough to protect all he cares about.

…Because it was worth it. She was worth it.