Artemis Valerion stared down at the nervous groups of elite soldiers, his gaze fixed on the white-haired boy they had strategically placed in their middle. The formation was so subtle that Artemis doubted the boy even noticed, but to anyone with military experience, it was glaringly obvious.
He had watched the group from a distance, waiting to make a spectacular entrance whilst caressing a prismatic emerald gem the size of his head, but the boy’s unusual bloodline manifestation had caught his attention, and Artemis had had to make his appearance earlier than he had planned.
He had seen a lot of weird bloodline manifestations in his lifetime, especially considering his line of work, and although the boy’s manifestation wasn’t the weirdest he had seen, it was very distinct and was certainly far more interesting than his emerald rock.
The boy’s hair rippled in the wind, alive with arcs of colored electricity, too weak to do any damage to anyone of sufficient strength, but it was pretty, and Artemis was a sucker for shiny, pretty things. More than that, golden lines peeked out from his collar and traced the left side of his neck to cup his jaw. The lines arced in a motion reminiscent of lightning, and against the boy's unnaturally dark skin, they almost glowed.
It was fascinating, but what really piqued Artemis’s curiosity was the expression of resignation on the boy’s face. Usually, when people came across him, their awe and admiration were always evident. However, the boy’s expression was blank, as if the fact that he was standing before one of the greatest champions ever to come out of Ragnarok meant absolutely nothing to him.
On the other hand, Captain Tyrus, Captain Sarkodie, and the other soldiers were all smiles, their expressions welcoming and full of admiration, just as he had expected. In that moment, Artemis decided that he did not like this boy one bit.
The boy stepped forward calmly, and in a tone dripping with sarcasm, he bowed and greeted. “Renowned Champion Artemis Valerion, I am Aodhán Brystion, and it is a pleasure to meet you.”
Artemis grimaced and glared at the boy, not quite sure what was wrong with him. Rather than respond, though, he let out a pulse of {Invasive Spatial Scan}, but surprisingly, the skill’s effect was rebuked by a surge of willpower that emanated from the boy.
This action elicited a grunt of surprise from Artemis, and his frown deepened when he found the boy glaring at him.
He had underestimated the kid. For the boy to have even sensed his actions spoke volumes about his innate spiritual perception. When General Deaton had briefed them on the boy’s capabilities, Artemis had been mildly impressed. Core Sense and a familiar at the evolved tier was impressive work. However, neither of those things translated directly into strength, and call him shallow, but Artemis only respected strength…and shiny gems, of course.
The boy wasn’t projecting any of that strength, though. His aura was tightly contained, and he could have been mistaken for a simple schoolboy if not for his severe bloodline manifestation. His eyes seemed like they held power, though. However, would that power be enough to catch this changeling? Would his presence in this mission really change anything?
“I greeted you, champion Artemis. You’re yet to respond.” The boy muttered from his bowed position, and Artemis’s scowl deepened.
“Geneva would love you.” He muttered to himself and gestured for the boy to rise before turning his attention to the soldiers. “Good to see you, Captain Sarkodie and Captain Tyrus. I trust things have been going splendidly in the camp.”
Captain Sarkodie sighed and removed his cap. “Not really, champion. Tension is high and growing daily, especially with the murder of Major Sarkovelly this morning.” He gestured to Aodhán and continued. “With his help, hopefully we can get this shitshow resolved soon.”
Artemis glanced back at the boy, wondering what his reaction would be to this information, but aside from the tiniest hint of curiosity, the boy seemed like he couldn’t care less if they were discussing the weather. Artemis had heard much about the boy, including his recent activity with a storm cloud and mystical rain. What he hadn’t heard, though, was that the boy was a cold-hearted freak with no emotions whatsoever.
What Artemis failed to realize was that Aodhán wasn’t coldhearted. His detachment stemmed from sinking his mind too deeply into the tranquil influence of {Eye of the Storm}. The skill naturally enhanced Aodhán’s perception, but the serenity it offered was a boon that was proving to be more and more useful by the day.
Artemis turned his attention back to the captains and discussed with them for a moment before waving for them to depart. “Thank you, Captains, but I’ll take it from here.
Captain Sarkodie and his soldiers saluted and turned to leave, but when Tyrus began to follow suit, the boy grabbed his hand and asked. “I thought you worked for General Deaton?”
“I do.” Tyrus replied, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Why do you ask?”
“Are you not coming to the fort with us?”
Captain Tyrus’s frown deepened, but then he suddenly laughed and said, “Unfortunately no. I am a soldier first and foremost, and regardless of the work I do for General Deaton, I still have a ton of things to do in that camp.” He glanced at Artemis, inclined his head, and smiled. “Have no fear, Lord Brystion; you’re much safer with champion Artemis than with a dozen of us.”
Captain Sarkodie laughed, and the others hummed in agreement, their expressions reassuring, but this wasn’t about fear for Aodhán. This was about trust, and he would rather fight a tier 25 advanced creature than enter a meeting room filled with political generals and sketchy champions alone.
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He didn’t bother going into details and simply replied. “I’m not scared. I’ll simply be more comfortable with you by my side, Captain Tyrus.”
Tyrus tried to refuse, but Aodhán cut him off with a smile. “I insist, Captain. I’m sure neither the general nor the other champions would have any problems with this.”
Tyrus stammered and exchanged a glance with Artemis, who simply shrugged. “I don’t care. It’s not like we’ll be discussing state secrets or something.” He frowned then, and a moment later, he added. “I guess we’ll be discussing some state secrets after all. However, if the boy wants you there, then I have no problem with it.”
Tyrus took a moment to think about it, and with a shrug, he finally accepted. “Well, I guess I could shift my appointment back an hour or two. I can’t stay more than that, though.”
“Great.” Artemis replied before Tyrus even finished speaking. “Now, shall we go? General Deaton and the other champions are waiting.”
He turned around with a wave of his hand; he created a small portal that led directly to the entrance of the fort. He could have teleported them directly into the meeting room, but that would have cost him a greater amount of energy and willpower as a result of the runes, and Artemis couldn’t afford to waste even an iota of energy at the moment. He was on the brink of an advancement and was conserving his energy as much as he could.
After the success of the whole ‘plague wraith’ mission, most of the team had returned to their usual mercenary duties, only checking in once in a while to keep themselves abreast of the situation of things, and by the time the changeling attacks began, only he, Zero, Matharantha, and Geneva (whom he’d gotten back together with) had remained within the Fort.
Uduak had returned to the Coliseum intent on retaking her position as the reigning champion, while Ali Hassani was ascendants knew where doing ascendants knew what.
Artemis could have left this drab sector any time he wished to, but the truth was that his presence here, along with that of the other champions, was the only thing keeping a full-blown panic at bay.
Having one of the best teams of champions present in the sector did much for the morale of the soldiers who couldn’t even trust their own weapons these days. Fortunately for them, the changeling hadn’t been killing indiscriminately, only three dozen murders in the last six weeks, which more or less equaled a death a day at this point.
To civilians, that might seem like a large number, but compared to the number of soldiers who died daily in border skirmishes or random attacks, that number was a blessing.
At first the changeling had been biding their time, killing only every other day, but things had escalated after the first two weeks, and the murders had begun happening every day. The escalation had finally forced the awakened council into action as they predicted another escalation very soon.
Artemis was unsatisfied, though. Honestly, he wished the changeling had become so high on the chaos and disorder they were causing that they resorted to killing half a dozen soldiers a day. Perhaps, then, the council would have been forced to drag Cosmind away from her secret undercover mission to clean up this mess faster than he could blink.
Instead, they were stuck with this emotionless brat who wasn’t even in the advanced class yet. Artemis believed that the boy was strong since General Deaton had a lot of good things to say about him. However, he couldn’t help but wonder just what an evolved Storm awakened with emotional issues could do to sort this sordid mess.
They stepped into the portal, and when they emerged in front of the large entrance, Artemis pushed the door open, and without wasting further time, he created another portal that led directly to the meeting room where the other champions were already seated. He merged both portals to the entrance in a way that when Tyrus and Aodhán stepped through the first portal, they were transported directly to the meeting room.
Despite his enhanced perception, Aodhán barely even noticed the transition until the world blurred and he suddenly found himself standing within an oval white room that was almost completely bare save for the Ragnarok military flag on one wall, a large holographic screen on the opposite wall, and a round metallic table at the center.
Beside the screen stood a tall, lean man dressed in a highly decorated military uniform. His skin was so pale that it almost seemed sickly, but his mythic eyes were the purest blue. His hair was a mess of colors, and his bearing seemed almost lackadaisical for a general, yet the faint sense of chaos and conflict that hung around him made it obvious he was not as harmless as he seemed.
Apart from the man whom Aodhán assumed to be General Deaton, there were three other people in the room, and this time Aodhán couldn’t have suppressed his admiration for them even if he tried. Seated on the left of the table was the Mirror, a champion whose backstory was just as fascinating and eerie as she looked, and seated just opposite her was Zero, a man whose gray skin nearly rivaled that of the general for how sickly it looked.
As impressive as both champions were, though, Aodhán’s gaze was drawn to the woman who sat a few seats away from Zero. Geneva Ryntharion, popularly known as the witch of Selia. Ever since he had watched the plague battle, Aodhán had been fascinated with her, and he couldn’t help but feel that she was even more impressive in person.
She met his gaze with a raised eyebrow, and Aodhán suddenly realized that he had been gawking. Clearing his throat in embarrassment, he hastily bowed and greeted. “I greet the esteemed general of the seventh sector and his renowned champions. It is truly an honor to meet you.”
“Now, he’s impressed.” Artemis scowled as he moved to a seat at the head of the table, but Aodhán ignored him and didn’t rise back up until General Deaton waved for him to do so.
“That’s a very enthusiastic greeting, kid; I’m surprised Artemis got the cold shoulder.” Zero replied with a smile and a teasing look in Artemis’s direction.
“Boy’s a fucking freak.” Artemis muttered and pointed a finger at Zero. “Don’t talk to me.”
Geneva—the only person Aodhán had eyes for in the room—smiled and gestured for him and Captain Tyrus to take a seat. “Don’t mind them, Aodhán. It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve heard so much about you already.”
Aodhán smiled and quickly moved to the seat beside Geneva, subtly pulling Tyrus along. When he finally sat down, he smiled and replied. “I’ve heard so much about you too, and I have so many questions I’m struggling to remember them all. I saw the clip of your battle with the champions of Sunstone, the way you used those runes and conjured elder runes with the snap of your fingers. It was absolutely amazing and—
Cough!
General Deaton cleared his throat loudly, cutting off Aodhán’s rant. “I’m sure you can catch up with Champion Geneva later. Right now, I suggest we focus on the reason why you’re here.”
Aodhán blushed in embarrassment, and Geneva laughed, a sound as beautiful as rainbows. She winked and said. “It’s always nice to meet someone who appreciates the art of runes as much as I do. I like you. We should catch up after the meeting.”
Sweeter words had never been spoken, and with a grin that threatened to tear his face apart, Aodhán turned his attention to the general, impatient to get the politics over with so he could get back to talking about runes.
Unfortunately for him, there was a lot to talk about.