Odyssey of the Guardian Emperor

A heavy silence followed Alaric's revelation, as he'd anticipated. It wasn't every day someone admitted to having an S-class guardian after lying to you for a while. S-class guardians were rare enough as it was.

"S-class… Wait, appraised six months ago? That makes you Black Generation!" Scarlett's voice cracked with disbelief. "But that's impossible."

"Why's that?" Alaric asked, tilting his head.

"You can't be fifteen," she snapped.

[ She's hung up on THAT? ] Alia's voice echoed in Alaric's mind, incredulous.

He chuckled softly, "I never told you my age… And yes, I am fifteen. Don't know my birthday though."

"Didn't your parents—" Scarlett began, but Byron cut her off with a sharp, humourless laugh.

"Age? Who cares?" Byron's voice dripped with scorn. "He's Wood Rank. That alone proves he's lying about something… Even now."

Alaric's gut twisted, but he resisted the urge to recoil, his expression calm. "I don't follow."

Sariah stepped in, her tone measured. "Wood Rank takes years, Alaric. Rushing risks shattering your Aether Channels. You'd need extraordinary talent—and to be at least 18 to have made it that far by now."

"Exactly," Byron sneered. "There's a lie here somewhere."

Alaric's lips tightened. What's this guy's deal? He thought, catching the smug glint in Byron's eyes. [ Priceless look on his face, though, ] Alia quipped in his mind.

After a moment, he said evenly, "Well, I am Wood Rank."

Byron scoffed. "Look in a mirror, kid. You're no fifteen-year-old. You've got Scarlett fooled, but I see a delusional brat closer to twenty. So, who are you really?"

Alaric frowned, 'What's this man's problem?'

What right did Byron have to deny everything Alaric had just said? Yes, Alaric didn't look fifteen, but that was because of his Body Tempering. Then again, the only human he knew of who'd made it to the Wood Rank at his age was Crystal… and she'd started her Body Tempering much earlier,r so it made sense. For him, it only fueled their doubts.

He could feel a small headache start to form so he turned to Leon, "This is exhausting."

The large man chuckled, "It's just too much for them to take in at once."

Scarlett narrowed her eyes at the large man, "YOU!"

LionHeart put his hand to his face and pulled a similar item to reveal a similarly hulking figure dressed in regal white armour and a cape similar to Alaric's

The differences, for both of them, were staggering. Leon was a haggard man with chesthair, a rotten attitude and a beard that was so unkempt it was a wonder nothing lived there.

LionHeart, on the other hand, was young, robust, good-looking and without a beard in sight. It was the lack of a beard that made him look young. His presence was also a lot more intimidating without the Face Mask on.

It was like the air around him was just waiting to explode at his slightest whim.

Alaric was a similar sight to behold, albeit bearing an inescapable air of gentle calmness. Where LionHeart exuded brawn, Alaric exuded grace. He had a gentle face and a warm smile. His eyes twinkled slightly, relaxed even under the constant scrutiny. His voice carried a soothing calm, almost hypnotic.

Byron took a wary step back from LionHeart, his shock fading to a bitter chuckle. "The Tower attack. The rumours were true. They were after you."

Alaric furrowed his perfect brows in thought, "LionHeart, is it common for Dark Mages to ally themselves with the Emperor's Men?"

"Rarely," LionHeart replied, shrugging. "This far from the capital, it's possible. The Emperor wouldn't tolerate it, but out here, his reach is weak."

Alaric nodded, his expression steady.

"I wasn't done talking to you, Alistair… Oh, it's Alaric now," Byron spoke again, his voice ripe with malice and suspicion.

Scarlett tensed, and Sariah's ring hummed faintly, aether stirring as if to summon the blade within.

Before either of the two women could do something, however, Alaric raised his hand, stopping them in their tracks. Sariah's fingers lingered on her ring; Scarlett slid a knife back into her sleeve with a reluctant frown.

Alaric exhaled, meeting Byron's gaze, "What more would you like to know?"

Byron's eyes darted from place to place. He was the strongest of the adventurers here, yet Alaric remained unpredictable, a boy who could commune with Aether Beasts. Touching a hair on his body was bound to turn the Barren Mountains against him.

The man coughed, feigning nonchalance, "I mean… I'm just speculating here. But if you are who you say you are, then the demon stampede, the insanely powerful demon we fought back there, the Emperor's Men—They all came because of you, didn't they?"

"I'm unsure about the Stampede and only guessing about the Emperor's Men," Alaric said, his voice calm but his eyes narrowing. "What's your point?"

"Well, we were actually just talking about the possibility of there being an Enthrall amongst the demons. Are you saying you've faced a stampede before?" Byron asked.

Alaric wanted to deny this… but then, a memory from Melbourne surfaced—Avaros, a Dark Mage, had visited the Matriarch at the Purification Tower. In fact, the two of them had exchanged information several times after that, all to track down the boy the Emperor's Men were after.

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It came as no surprise that Byron would know such things. He reported directly to the Matriarch, and it was already confirmed that Avaros and the Copy Viper, Darth, were from the same organisation of Dark Mages.

[ Clever trap! ] Alia whispered in his mind.

Alaric held Byron's stare. "What about Earl's Hollow?"

Byron's eyes opened wide, "My my! Was that your fault as well? Or were you lying about coming from there? Something about coming here with your uncle…"

Alaric's blood chilled. Damn.

LionHeart stepped forward, his voice low, "What are you implying, Byron?"

"The truth, Leon… or was it LionHeart now?" Byron spat, "Your words are worthless. Dash lies dying because of—"

"Don't you dare say Dash's name?" Bumi suddenly burst out, silencing Byron. He'd remained quiet the whole time, almost as though he wanted nothing to do with this conversation, but now, his anger flared, "I don't care what's happening here, Byron, but you don't get to use Dash as an excuse. You weren't there, and you haven't been for years. If Dash had died, you wouldn't have cared."

Byron retreated, hands raised, "Easy, Bumi. I hear you… Think about whose side you're on. That boy is the reason our home faces destruction at the hands of the Emperor's Men, a Dark Mage and demon hordes."

"You've never cared for anyone," Bumi snarled. "I'll judge when I know the truth."

Byron scoffed, walking away dismissively, "Call me when the Storm Orbs arrive."

With that, the blonde guard secluded himself in a spot far away. Sitting on a large boulder, he pulled out his sword and a whetstone and started sharpening it.

Alaric's heart pounded. Was Byron right? Was Avaros planning to raze Melbourne, a thriving Merchant City of families and life, just to find him? The thought made no sense, yet the weight of it sank deep, no longer just rumours but a grim reality.

Alaric had heard whispers of this before, but only now did their weight sink in—not as metaphors, but as stark reality.

Bumi exhaled heavily, casting Alaric a fleeting glance before retreating to sit alone. Maple bowed silently and joined him, leaving only Scarlett, Lucy, Sariah, and LionHeart with Alaric.

Lucy spoke up first, "Byron's right about the discussions. We did think there was an Enthrall amongst the demons. I actually thought it was that last… ugly thing that you killed."

Alaric furrowed his eyebrows, "I've never seen an Enthrall before. Many minions, perhaps, but never an Enthrall. If that demon we killed was one, then I hope I don't run into them again."

"That was no Enthrall," LionHeart spoke gently, "Enthralls never show their faces. They never get their hands dirty. They stay hidden so much that it's got to the point where the very term has become an urban legend, revered by all Slayers as a harbinger of death. Any Slayer can kill a demon… but an army is something else. That's what makes Enthralls so powerful. The only problem is that they never show their faces."

Alaric recalled all the times he'd seen the demons attack. He'd heard stories of demons all his life. They were ruthless, deadly, and so hellbent on killing humans that they never showed signs of pain.

This was different. The demons he'd seen so far had something in common. They were organised. Their source of organisation, though, remained unknown.

"How do you know so much about them?" Scarlett pressed.

"When Alaric was appraised with an S-class guardian, I, along with another Protector, were assigned to be his protection. On the journey, we were attacked by a swarm of demons. After that event, I studied Enthralls, though I learned more about lesser demons than them."

Sariah was about to speak when the sound of wingbeats alerted them to a new presence. The wind came moments after as they turned to see three Eagles flying down to meet them.

One of those eagles was the High Sentinel and he carried a sack in his beak. From afar, it glowed with faint hints of gold radiance but as it got closer, it was clear to see that it had been masterfully woven from Heaven-Crested Eagle feathers.

The High Sentinel landed and reached out with the sack, handing it to Alaric. It was soft to the touch, but heavy

Alaric fished one of the sphere-like objects inside and took a look at it. His eyes went wide with childish awe.

The Storm Orbs were glass-like orbs partially covered in dark grey rock as though they'd been picked from a drying riverbed. The orb itself contained grey swirling mist that resembled a lightning storm, crackling with streaks of light every now and then.

"Nine Storm Orbs. That should be enough for your group. Divide them as you see fit," the High Sentinel announced.

Alaric thanked the Heaven-Crested Eagle and passed the sack to Scarlett. "I only need one. You decide the rest."

Scarlett blinked, then shrugged. "Fine."

Scarlett dipped her hand into the golden sack, her fingers brushing the soft fabric as she pulled out the Storm Orbs one by one. She handed them to each member of the party with a measured calm, her eyes flicking briefly to Byron. She skipped him without a word. The man's hateful stare bore into her, but he held his tongue.

He might have helped with the fight against the demon, but it still remained that he had never been a part of team in the first place, only a bodyguard for their Mage.

Alaric tore his gaze from the scene and turned to LionHeart. "There's something I need to tell you."

The man stopped admiring his Storm Orb and gave the boy his full attention. The casual openness of the exchange drew the others in like moths to a flame. "The Heaven-Crested Eagles," Alaric began, his voice steady but laced with curiosity, "They've asked us to stay here a few days."

"Stay and do what?" LionHeart asked.

"They know things about me—things I don't even know myself. I need to find out what they're hiding. And the Tower sent word to them, asking that they treat me as a guest."

LionHeart's lips pressed into a thin line, his mind turning over the words. "Only Keepers wield the Old Tongue like you do. Sounds like they personally came here to negotiate your stay."

Scarlett snorted, twirling her orb between her fingers. "What's next? You'll bunk in a nest and snuggle up with that Storm Orb as a pillow?"

Sariah squeezed the girl's shoulder, "Careful. The big one speaks our language."

"No offence intended, big guy," Scarlett said, dipping into a mock bow toward the High Sentinel.

"None taken, little One," the towering eagle replied, its voice a low rumble. Its golden eyes shifted, narrowing on Byron. "Protector, while this isn't part of the subject, I think you'd want to pay attention to the edgy one over there."

Alaric's head snapped around, a knot tightening in his gut. Time seemed to stretch, each heartbeat dragging as his eyes found Byron. The man's arm coiled around Lucy, their figures distant, their murmured words a thin veneer. But Alaric knew—deep in his bones, something was wrong, or was about to go wrong.

His body snapped like a bowstring, shooting forward like an arrow, but the world lagged behind him, sluggish and heavy. Byron's hand flicked up, a black pill glinting between his fingers, runes etched into its surface pulsing with arcane intent. Their gazes locked, and Byron's lips curled into a smirk.

He crushed it.

Magic erupted, a torrent of blue mist swirling around Byron and Lucy, spiralling inward to a single, shrinking point. Alaric's mind screamed, NO! His hands shot out, clawing at the warped air. Against all reason, the mist halted, trembling under his grip.

His will seized the fabric of reality itself. With a guttural roar, he tore the rift wider, hands shaking as the spell's threads unravelled. Byron and Lucy flickered back into focus, caught mid-teleport, suspended in the shimmering lattice of magic.

Alaric's muscles burned, straining against the spell's relentless pull. The air around them stilled, as if the world held its breath, witnessing a man rip apart a teleportation spell with nothing but raw determination. This wasn't magic—it was his soul bending the universe to his command.

Byron's hand dipped into his pocket, producing another rune-etched pill. His voice slithered through the tension, barely a whisper. "If you want her that badly, find her at the Sisters of Fragrance."

With that, he broke the second pill. Teleportation pills were never meant to be used together at the same time, though.

A deafening blast hurled Alaric backwards, his body tumbling across the ground. He skidded to a stop, pain blazing through every nerve, and slammed his fist into the earth. A scream lodged in his throat, but the sky answered instead—thunder cracked, sharp and furious, scattering eagles and startling the party.

Why did nothing ever go his way?