November 23, 623
Flickers. Nemesis of the Scourge. Or perhaps the other way around. Either way, they were known to travel in groups and hunt those monsters.
I had just witnessed one of their battles. Nothing extraordinary, but it was still amazing to see something so rare. Finding Flickers at all was rare, let alone seeing them do battle.
It seemed they didn’t want anything to do with us though. They had left after finishing their work. In a way though, I wished I could thank them. They took care of a scout troop that could’ve compromised our position. It was lucky.
More than that though, I felt something while looking at them, feeling their group Aura with my own.
They were precious beings, something I felt like I wanted to protect. I wasn’t sure why that was, but they seemed pure in a way. I hadn’t felt that the last time I encountered them but my Aura also wasn’t nearly as developed then. Plus, I had gone in intending to hunt them. Part of me regretted doing so now. It had gotten Umara a trusty companion though, so I wasn’t complaining.
I wondered how well the weird wolf thing was doing. With Umara getting so powerful so quickly, it would be hard pressed to keep up. The process seemed automatic though; that would help it a bit. Hopefully it would grow to become a companion worth having, something that could protect her.
I looked over at Smithson, waving.
“They’re gone.”
“What happened up there?”
“Flickers killed a scout troop for us.”
“That’s… rare.”
“I know. We need to make sure to keep our eyes peeled though. We’re obviously in enemy territory now.”
I jumped off the Steed and walked back into camp, waving off those who had woken up from the sounds of my gun.
“I’m going back to sleep. We wake in three hours, and that’s three more hours of rest I need.”
I climbed back into my tent with those words, slumping down into my pile of blankets.
It was four hours later that we finally got on the road. Today, we’d be attempting to meet up with Pollux and the rest of the Pathfinders.
……
…
Another day passed, and with the help of the Chiefs and our sensitivity to Aura, we were able to completely avoid the Scourge and make our way to our target area.
It took longer, but we made it. However, even after an entire day of travel and searching, we were unable to find the Pathfinders.
Of course, there was a lot of land to search and I’d told them to scout around, but I had also told them that we’d be at this target area within a certain range of days. They should’ve been there to meet us.
Not that it changed our plans. We’d wait at least another day or two for them to show up.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to think about what to do if they didn’t.
It was halfway through the next day that they arrived at the rendezvous. Their Steeds looked battered, so it was apparent they’d gotten into a battle. All vehicles were accounted for though, so it didn’t seem to be anything major, certainly nothing that would’ve killed them.
We met up and I jumped out to meet Pollux.
“Commander. Good to see you in one piece.”
“Likewise, Cooper.”
“How has it been out here? Anything out of the ordinary?”
“Not particularly…”
Pollux walked with me, the two of us moving to a spot behind one of the Steeds to talk. The rest were setting up camp.
“Being away from base for so long certainly isn’t fun, but it’s doable and we haven’t been getting into too much trouble. As for the Scourge, I have your report but putting it simply, it’s not looking amazing. There are a lot more troops coming out of that crossing than you’d thought there would be, and a good amount of those giant bug things. I’m hard pressed to find a sneaky way to infiltrate.”
Pollux lifted his hand, a stack of papers appearing in it. I took them and quickly read a few.
There were several reports of armies marching through routes by the thousands. Mostly low level grunts but from the numbers it looked like the Scourge was only ramping things up, not slowing down.
I’d predicted that they would have sent most of what they had over already. I felt that was the case especially when I saw that massive army in the ravine. But now, I wasn’t so sure.
The Treehouse was close to the Stronghold, but it was still relatively out of the way. Behind it there was another Stronghold – Alpha if I wasn’t mistaken. The Scourge wouldn’t be able to penetrate too far into our lines before being met with even more resistance.
However, Stronghold Charlie was still up there. Were they trying to establish a route behind us to avoid the technical terrain? Why were they investing so much into this attack? I thought this was going to be a short little skirmish that would return to normal within a couple months.
From everything I was seeing, this was about to turn into a full blown warfront that would take years to resolve.
I sighed.
“Thanks for the report, Commander. I’m not looking too optimistic either.”
“Are you sure that they’ll be safe to continue? They’re Chiefs, but I can’t help but feel like this is fruitless.”
“Unfortunately, this comes down to a matter of principle.”
I looked back down at the report and imagined the map and numbers in my mind.
“Its looking like to me that our military has been doing nothing but defending against the Scourge all this time. They’re doing nothing to fight back. They’ve collected no intelligence on the Scourge’s bases and camps while they continue to send scouts and gather every detail of our lives without consequence. Then they keep launching attacks and we do nothing to divert or dull those attacks at all. This is the first attempt in too long to try and get a glimpse of their core operations.”
“The issue is that we don’t throw away lives like they do. They just keep tossing mindless soldiers at us. We don’t have mindless soldiers to do the same.”
“I understand that, but something has to be done, even if risks need to be taken. If we continue to just sit back and take the hits, eventually we’re going to be the ones to fall, not them. That’s why I worked so hard on getting this mission ready. We need more information so we can start being proactive. Otherwise, one day they’re going to march over with insurmountable numbers, and we won’t know about it until its too late. That’s how bases get destroyed.”
“Like Purple Sky.”
“Yes. You of all people would know that I have personal experience in this department.”
I smiled a bit as he scratched his head, looking discontent.
“Well, you’ll get no protests from me. I’ll leave the strategy to you. So long as I can trust that you’ll keep my soldiers safe, I have no issues.”
“Well, seeing that I’m part of your soldiers, I give you my word.”
“That’s technically true… but you’re rapidly turning into something else. With Polly taking you under her wing, it won’t be long until you’re commanding these soldiers instead of fighting with them. Actually, scratch that. You’re already commanding soldiers, both us and Snow Doves. I can hardly order you around like one of my soldiers when you’re in charge of the damn mission. Which is fine. In fact, I like having someone around who actually knows what the hell they’re talking about.”
Pollux let out a sharp breath and looked back toward the rest of the Pathfinders. We were camping out for the rest of the day so everyone was busy clearing the fungal mat from the area.
Not that long ago I was curious as to why someone like Pollux was only a Commander when he was an Authority 8, deserving of the rank First Commander. Perhaps he had just recently advanced but I was beginning to understand a bit.
He was passive. He was powerful, but when he so easily deferred to me, I got the feeling that he either didn’t care enough to or wasn’t able to take true command of his soldiers. The missions the Pathfinders did were often simple and repetitive. Sure, he had to bring back mission reports to Polly, but as far as I knew, another warlock was doing that before I came in. Since I was the summoner, I quickly got that job. I remember him giving it to me my first day there. That was a bit too fast if I gave it some scrutiny.
Granted, there were few, if any, summoners that went out into the field. I was the perfect guy for the job of collecting intelligence from everyone’s perspective. But still.
Pollux was great from my perspective because he cared about his soldiers and let me have an amazing level of autonomy. That didn’t mean he was the sharpest commander in the shed, though. As one got more powerful and rose ranks, they also had to take on more responsibility, which included being a part of the strategizing process. If he was a bit dull on that end, then it was no wonder he struggled to get a higher rank. They wouldn’t put him in charge of more soldiers if he couldn’t handle it.
Now, he was just letting me take the lead. I enjoyed the lack of barriers, but it changed my evaluation of him a bit. He was a good man and a good soldier. Not necessarily the best commander.
Well, it was either that, or I was totally misreading him. Maybe he really just didn’t care and didn’t mind me coming in to take charge. Maybe he just really trusted intelligence agents like me and Polly. Maybe he simply didn’t care to get promoted and had little ambition beyond what he had. I was fine with that too.
After a bit more conversation, I took the rest of the reports and went to go do my job. I had to read every word and get an overview of what this place was looking like without actually seeing it for myself. Then, I’d dish out recon assignments and get a more precise grasp on the situation at the eastern crossing before figuring out how we’d insert our Chiefs behind enemy lines without them attracting the attention of the entire Scourge army back there.
The process should take about a week. Thankfully, we had stocked up on food, and magic would provide us with water. We wouldn’t be lacking for the time being.
With the information in hand I buckled down. There were no Colonels here to tell me what to do or how to do it. I was in deep and this was my operation to run. Everything that happened from here on out was on my name, and I’d take this opportunity for everything it presented.
……
…
“Dear… I agree that his punishment should be severe… but this is rather incessant.”
“I agree. Which is exactly why I’m letting it happen.”
Ignatius Verga gazed down at the massive arena, his wife Willow standing beside him. This was just one of several tests, but the exceptional part was the fact that his son was about to take it on right now instead of another year or two from now.
The Templars were no ordinary military force. They were soldiers that stood above the rest, devout followers of Christ who would give their lives, should it be necessary, to vanquish the evil, the Scourge, of this world. Even beyond their loyalties, their will was unquestionable, and each one was expensive to train. They were skilled, backed by a nigh-endless budget, and forged through the fires of constant war. The Church never once let up in their fight against the enemies of mankind, and, unlike the Kingdom, refused to merely defend. They took the fight to them, and to do so despite the sheer difficulty took high discipline from the soldiers carrying out those operations.
But the Templars were only the surface level force. The war against the Scourge was not won with numbers, but with sheer, strategic power. That’s what the Paladin’s Order was for.
The Paladin’s Order was a semi-secret group of special purpose behemoths. If the Templars were a spear, the Order was a dagger’s tip. Roughly divided into three tiers of soldiers, each vocation had a separate purpose.
Tier 3, the Squires, low Authority but still well trained soldiers, were responsible for logistics and support operations for the rest of the Order. They were smart but generally combat incapable.
Tier 2, the Field Observation Group, or colloquial Fogs, were intermediate Authority soldiers who were skilled at disappearing into enemy territory and coming back with intelligence on the enemy. They were the Order’s intelligence sector.
Finally, the Tier 1 Raiders were the special tactics and combat division of the Order. Known widely (in the areas that knew they existed at all) as the most lethal group of soldiers to exist, they were responsible for killing the most dangerous enemies the Scourge had to offer, as well as handling the circumstances that often came with placing themselves in such precarious situations.
There were various levels of power within the Raiders. Some of them stood on top of the world while others couldn’t boast anything more than Authority 7 power.
No matter what though, every single one was a force of nature, an inhuman killing machine with traits that placed them far beyond an ordinary powerful soldier. Oftentimes, they were lethal despite their power.
To become a Raider, the bare minimum prerequisite was to kill an Authority 8 Royal.
And the son of Ignatius Verga, Vetsmon Verga, was about to attempt to become one.
It had been months since he started training. He had been put through conditions akin to nightmares, and dragged through even worse. He had suffered mind-breaking strain, mental fatigue overlapping with his struggle with Anarchy. But instead of sympathizing, Ignatius allowed the instructors to use everything in order to bring his son to his lowest possible point.
He had been broken, there was no doubt about that. When he looked at his son, even he felt pity. His wife had almost cried watching him waiting his turn, his beaten body and soulless eyes telling little of the harrowing Aura around him, painting a most dreadful display. He looked like a husk, and it was clear that he would never be the same Vetsmon ever again.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
However, Ignatius believed in his son. This was no longer about some punishment. It hadn’t been for a while.
He watched Vetsmon step into the arena. Once he was in the center, an instructor dragged in a bound Royal. If John had been there, he would have recognized it.
A King Royal, descending from the King of Despair. A purple humanoid with digitigrade legs and a black hole on its face surrounded by spiked teeth. Not only that, but it had its armor and weapons. It wasn’t even hurt after having remained in Church captivity. It was at its prime, and it was ready to kill.
It held power in the middle levels of Authority 8, to say nothing of its innate control over Aura and monstrous physicality. Everyone watching could feel the hopelessness it exuded, the nihilistic pull of its mere existence.
But nobody there was capable of being affected by it. For the most part, anyway.
One man could, and he was about to face it.
Vetsmon, in comparison, was around the height of Authority 6. After having been pushed like he was, it was no wonder his already talented body was able to climb in power with unreal speeds. But he wasn’t yet Authority 7, and all that strain was reaching a point where, if it kept up, he would break before he improved. And not just mentally.
“... Will someone save him if it really comes down to it?”
“...”
Ignatius didn’t respond to his wife. Would he let his son die? He didn’t want to. But he also knew that he needed to allow his son to be pushed to the limit, to the edge of death. By that time, a single wrong move could determine his life and death.
There would come a time when he would face the same thing, just in a situation where nobody could help him. When that time came, would he have the luxury of having a protective father?
No, he needed to push his son now so that he could trust in his ability to preserve his life later. He knew there were safeguards in place to protect Vetsmon if he was really going to lose his life, as well as the most powerful healers the Church could find. But even those contingencies weren’t perfect.
What happened would remain to be seen.
The Royal turned its head, observing everyone around it. It was clearly surrounded by obscenely powerful individuals in a place it could never hope to escape. And it was given one task: to kill the trainee in front of it. If it did that, it would live to see another day. That was the promise. If it failed, it would be killed by the trainee anyway.
Its path was obvious.
It looked at Vetsmon. He wasn’t wearing any armor and only had a greatsword and shield. He also looked half dead. Easy prey, but his Aura made it hesitate.
He was clearly a man on the edge. The edge of what, though, it didn’t know. Couldn’t know.
Vetsmon stood, frozen but relaxed, until suddenly, the instructor gave a command.
“Kill it.”
Once heard, Vetsmon stepped forward, raising his shield while slowly approaching the Royal. It held its own weapon, a curved sword, and watched for a few seconds.
Then, Vetsmon lunged out. Despite the size of the greatsword, he moved it like a rapier. The Royal dodged before slashing upward, knocking the sword away like a toy.
The greatsword was incredibly heavy, with the touch of a master craftsman. Vetsmon would break before it did, but that was the only notable feature. It didn’t have any special functions; it was just a metal blade.
But to the uninitiated, one would’ve thought it enchanted with the highest grade of lightness and speed.
Its Aura exploded before it bore down on Vetsmon with its full power. It attacked his mind ruthlessly, its spiked teeth fluctuating as its face spewed out an unholy cloud of abyssal fog. It didn’t obscure vision, but any who gazed on it felt their minds get pulled into the mind of the Royal.
Within it, they saw the endless suffering of hell, the fear of the darkness, and the hopelessness of the void. They could see death and the nothingness that came after. They could see the worthlessness of their lives, their self-loathing, the un-desire.
They saw the End, and it spurred nothing but the desire to end themselves in turn.
Its Aura was comprehensive, but most importantly, it found all the cracks in the minds of others and sought to infect them using their deepest insecurities. It would twist their memories, using even the happiest moments of their life against them, defiling them, corrupting them with visages of hatred, sorrow, pain.
Vetsmon visibly struggled when he was hit with the full brunt of the mental attack. His responses slowed, his shield struggled to even block the casual attacks of the Royal. It played with him, occasionally leaving injuries and watching him bleed.
Vetsmon continued to attack, yet he never made a sound even when he got hurt. He was silent, his face flat, emotionless.
The fight went on for several minutes. Vetsmon never had the upper hand. He was defending more than attacking, the power difference clear as day.
Then, the Royal spoke.
“EEEeeennd it…”
Its voice started as some unholy amalgamation of several voices, male and female. But it sharpened into one, the voice of his father, Ignatius.
“Just give up already… You’ve already failed…”
“...”
Vetsmon was silent, simply continuing to battle. The difficulty he had though was clear. The Royal was getting to him.
“You’ve not only failed to protect your friends… but you hurt them. You let yourself get stupid enough to even dare lay your hands on them. Worst of all, I know you did it on purpose!”
It screamed while laying into Vetsmon even harder, as if delivering the wrath of a father.
“You knew you could never be as talented or skilled as them! You knew you would fail to live up to their glory! So you took your chance and ruined any opportunity to ever fight by their side again! You got yourself out of comparing yourself to them, escaped the fear of ultimately failing. I know more than anyone how you’ve completely blasphemed the title of a knight and the ability to call yourself a man by attempting to meet that standard. You were a worthless child to raise, a disgrace to your peerage, a bastard to your friends. Any father would be ashamed to have such scum come out of the womb of his wife, and no woman would take a revolting reject like you as husband, especially not someone as amazing as Tana.”
The final blow dropped with the name, and Vetsmon’s shield arm dropped with it. He stumbled back, the shield clattering to the stone floor beneath him along with a long stream of blood.
Up in a booth, Willow stared. Ignatius looked at her and saw tears going down her face, yet they didn’t stop her from watching, from listening. Despite her neutral face, he could feel the rage within her.
Even he wanted nothing more than to go down there and flay that Royal alive. But he refrained from doing anything, even when his son’s arm was taken off.
Vetsmon raised his sword, his eyes glued to the Royal.
It circled around him.
“You disgusted her. You harmed the person she admired, the person she actually wanted to be with. If not for the other one, she’d be the one getting fucked raw by him. Perhaps she was, despite that. It would explain why she had little desire to get anywhere close to you until much later. Perhaps he got bored of her since Umara was so much better. So he left you with the second-hand goods, and you couldn’t even do anything with that.
“So come to me.”
The Royal put out its hands, and then the black hole on its face, eternally dark, suddenly changed.
It sprouted the face of Tana, its teeth chittering as her voice came out of the face.
“Come here, my darling. Away from them, from the constant pain. I will give you relief. In my nothing, you will find everything. I will give you the world.”
It offered, putting out its hand for Vetsmon to grab. His body bled from every limb, blood continuing to fall from his severed arm.
His sword arm went limp, the greatsword’s tip falling onto the stone under him with a ring. He stared at Tana’s face.
The Royal waited, urging Vetsmon to come to it. It’s Aura was wholly concentrated on his mind, already well entrenched within.
Willow, watching from above, grit her teeth.
“Ignatius, if my son becomes a monster, I will be lost to you alongside him.”
“... And I would be every bit deserving of it.”
Ignatius muttered, watching, his hands cracking the stone ledge underneath them.
Then, in the silent arena, he heard a sigh.
“... It’s amazing… Oh Lord, I think I get it now.”
Vetsmon straightened his back, his greatsword twitching off the ground before swinging around with blinding speed.
The Royal barely raised its own weapon in time, yet was still blasted across the arena, slamming into the enchanted bricks.
Wiping his face with his remaining arm, Vetsmon looked over and found his severed limb.
He walked over to it, casually stabbing the greatsword into the ground before lifting the limb to the stump. Then, like magic, it remained in place.
After some seconds, he lifted his new-old arm and twitched his fingers.
Ignatius’ eyes widened.
Not only had Vetsmon stopped bleeding, but his blood now had shimmering gold within it.
He didn’t know what it was, but when he saw the same shimmering gold in Vetsmon’s Aura, he knew something big had just happened.
Then, Vetsmon kneeled, letting out a long breath.
“... I don’t enjoy the pain it took to get here. I’d rather that Royal tell my instructors to kill themselves instead.”
“Hm?”
An instructor to the side scrunched his face, brows furrowed, as if not comprehending the audacity to say such a thing.
Vetsmon continued.
“But, I think I get what you were telling me. I’m still pissed off though. I’m not gonna thank you until later.”
With those words Vetsmon stood again, looking over at the Royal as it pried itself from the reinforced wall.
“You… thing… that perverted the face of my future wife. You don’t realize that your words do nothing but make me even more certain. With or without them, I need to devote my life to eradicating every last one of you.”
Vetsmon’s body bulged before he suddenly threw himself at the Royal. He sped across the ground like a meteor, the air whistling around his body as he thrust his sword straight toward the Royal.
It was barely able to deflect the greatsword, the weapon stabbing into the stone wall as Vetsmon slammed into it.
He snarled in its face.
“You know, I’ve faced a lot of shit in recent months. I don’t appreciate you trying to corrupt the few good memories I have left! They were the only fucking things getting me through this hell! And now I’m going to have your disgusting sight in my mind alongside them!”
Vetsmon grabbed the Royal’s neck before backing up and chucking it across the arena once more. It skidded along the ground a couple times before catching itself and righting itself on its feet.
Vetsmon approached, a deep gold light spreading across his greatsword, his rage palpable.
“I don’t like the things you said. And those things you said come from the disgusting, sinful, twisted, and perverted nature of your race. That means, if I want those things gone, then I need to get rid of its source. You.”
He pointed, the deep gold glow of his sword gradually brightening into a white gold color. When the sword so much as nicked the ground, it left smooth slices as if it were a scalpel on flesh.
Then, he launched himself forward, swinging around the greatsword. This time, it looked like he was straining to move its weight, like he should. But that only told the Royal about the kind of obscene power behind it.
This time, its armor flashed with veiny lines of power, its purple body bulging in size as the black hole on its face started to tremble.
Its weapon met Vetsmon’s greatsword, and the two came to a standstill.
It was still an Authority 8. It didn’t forget that.
Vetsmon smiled.
“You know, I never thought myself too much of a pious man, certainly far from many others. But something about fighting filthy beasts like you really makes me feel like I’m the fucking Pope.”
Vetsmon grit his teeth before urging even more power into his body. He used his interlocked sword to throw the Royal once more. This time though, it didn’t go far.
In fact, it shot right back to him. They exhanged a few quick strikes, and that’s when Vetsmon saw its sheer speed.
It was faster than him, and after the seventh strike, it suddenly spun around, its sword cleaving through both of his legs.
It created some distance after that, watching him. However, he didn’t fall.
Instead, he smiled and stomped down with his foot, launching himself forward and unleashing a barrage of heavy handed strikes with his white-gold Aura, Vigor amplifying his strikes several times over with every hit.
“I don’t care if I can’t become as amazing as they will! I will do what I can! I don’t care if I’ve disgraced my Peerage! I will do what I’ve been called to do! Depraved evils like you are an infection on this world that must be excised! I can hardly fathom the sheer depravity that you worship… and yet it so clearly engraves itself into my brain! I will eradicate your degeneracy! I will slaughter every one of you like pests as you deserve to be treated as nothing greater! And I will not allow you to beat me with something as stupid as hopelessness!”
Vetsmons bellows increased with every word, his strikes becoming heavier every swing.
The Royal continued to beat Vetsmon in combat despite the wounds it was taking. It would slice through his limbs while skewering him through the chest. His bones should’ve been broken, his lungs, heart, and organs sliced apart, tumbling from the cavity that should’ve been his chest. He shouldn’t even be breathing, let alone fighting and screaming.
But he continued on like he was never injured. He refused to bleed anything more than a few drops and no amount of broken bones was enough to hinder his movement.
But the wounds the Royal was dishing out weren’t fake. It wasn’t being tricked. That was impossible.
No, Vetsmon was holding himself together. His bones were actually breaking and his organs were actually getting sliced apart. But something was repairing them.
The Royal got flung away once more. Vetsmon’s strength wasn’t increasing, but it seemed that without the threat of his body falling apart, he could afford to push it beyond its limits. Feats of strength that would tear his own tendons and crack his own bones before were now performed with wild abandon. His palms would split open from every impact of the blade, but he simply refused to care, his skin closing itself so he could do it again.
The Royal analyzed, and then came to a startling conclusion.
He wasn’t healing either. There was no level of healing that freakish, at least not that a human should possess.
So he wasn’t necessarily repairing himself either.
He just didn’t let himself fall apart.
His Aura held him together through sheer force of will.
Even through blinding pain, Vetsmon roared.
“I will fight for life simply because that is what we must do! And no matter how small, I will have my place in this world! I refuse to accept anything else, and I especially refuse to believe in the words of some purple skinned teethy freak as disgusting as you!”
Vetsmon slammed down, his Aura emitting Vigor across the blade of his greatsword and slicing off the Royal’s sword arm.
Then, Vetsmon dropped his sword and dove at the Royal, grabbing its neck before pummeling its face with his fist.
Its oozing black blood sprayed everywhere as he bludgeoned it to death. No matter how it fought back, it couldn’t kill an undying monster.
After ripping the rest of its limbs off and reducing it to a pulp, Vetsmon stood above the Royal’s corpse and looked around.
Then, he looked up, finding his mother and father in one of the booths. Without permission, he jumped and crossed the distance in a single bound.
He landed in the open window, climbing in and standing before his parents.
Then, he fell to his knees.
“Mother, father… I’m sorry. I’ve brought shame to this Peerage with my actions, and have forced your discipline. I will do what I must to atone… I just hope that someday, I will be given a chance to once again stand with the pride of our Peerage, the Verga name.”
The two parents were silent. Willow rubbed her eyes a few times before she started crying again and embraced her son.
“C-call us how you used to… please… You… will always be my beloved baby, Vetsmon. I’ll kill you myself if you ever forget that. And this will always be your family to come back to.”
“... Understood, mom.”
Vetsmon continued to kneel even as his mother wrapped him up. He instead turned his head to his father.
“... I wish I never had to do it, son.”
“I know why you had to, father.”
“... Don’t ever forget that you will always be our child. You’ve come a long way… I’m proud to call you my son. I would never ask for anything else.”
“...Thank you.”
Vetsmon lowered his head and let out a heavy breath. The weight off his shoulders was clear as day.
Eventually, Willow pulled herself away, letting her son stand and wiping her tears.
“Thank you for killing that Royal, son. Now, I don’t think you should keep your instructor waiting much longer. He looks like he’s about to explode.”
“...”
Vetsmon slowly turned around, seeing his smiling instructor in the window.
“Hey, trainee, what was that about telling me to kill myself?”
“... I refuse to give in!”
Vetsmon shouted and took up a stance, the instructor looking amused.
“Heh. You might be some kind of undying freak, but you can still feel pain.”
The instructor suddenly appeared in front of him, grabbing Vetsmon’s neck.
He looked at Ignatius with a wide smile.
“I’m going to find the limits of your son’s new technique.”
“Just keep in mind my desire to continue my lineage. The Peerage needs at least one who can pass down the name.”
“Yes, I’ll try not to neuter him.”
“I refuse to give in!”
“You think you can fight me, boy?”
The instructor threw Vesmon through the window, his body flying into one of the walls of the arena.
Willow smiled.
“My baby’s all grown up now.”
“Mm, yes, I never had any doubts.”
“You and I will be having a conversation later. Dare to ever pull a stunt like this again and I will be neutering you.”
“...”
Ignatius was silent. He understood his wife’s anger but he was too happy for his son’s achievement here to let it douse his mood.
It was a risk, but he knew that his son was destined for something more, that God had greater plans.
This proved it. He almost couldn’t wait to see how far he went.