Odyssey of the Guardian Emperor

Alistair, or rather, Alaric's clone with the Face Mask on, emerged from within the shadows only to feel the ground start to shake. 'What's going on out there? Can't I enjoy the time I have with a name?'

[ Get the Matriarch out of there. ] Alia yelled.

Alistair groaned, then vanished and appeared inside the room the Matriarch used to keep Lucy in. Without wasting a second, he grabbed the crestfallen woman's hand and vanished again, appearing in an alley several blocks away from the Sisters of Fragrance.

A split second after that, the world turned white, and a massive explosion shook Melbourne. The Matriarch just stood there, petrified and unmoving. Not even the sound of eight Melbournes' worth of explosions was enough to draw a care from her face.

Alistair covered his eyes and shielded the woman. [ What's happening out there? ]

[ I'll fill you in on everything later. ] Alia answered before going quiet, leaving the clone with the woman in awkward silence.

It was another few minutes before the clone realised he wasn't going to die. Colours filled the sky, rolling around in mesmerising swirls as aether was sent flowing into a floating halo.

He turned to the Matriarch, covered in dust, a chain attached to cuffs on her hands. Dried lines came down her face, a record of the tears she'd shed, and her cheekbones stood out more than the clone remembered. She was still strikingly beautiful, but not enough to distract someone from her dishevelled state.

She spared him a carefree look when the light show had ended, then looked back down, "No one's ever seen me like this."

The clone shrugged, but he wasn't about to act as roughly as he had with the Red Cloaks. "Well, I won't tell if you don't."

A dry chuckle was her response. She didn't even bother to thank him for saving her from the Sisters of Fragrance. Instead, she looked up at the mesmerising colours that filled Melbourne's sky, a side effect of the halo of aether floating above them.

"Is this what the Black Generation does?" the Matriarch's hoarse voice echoed in the alley, "Children weren't enough, now you're remnants of the great calamity, destined to finish what you started?"

The clone turned to her. The all-powerful Matriarch of Melbourne had been reduced to a wimping mess. She had no hope left in her eyes, an empty shell of what was, and as such, her words were now turning bitter.

"If the Generation of the Black Sun was full of destroyers, I wouldn't have saved you from that explosion, now would I?" Alistair spoke.

The woman chuckled dryly, "What difference does that make? You've angered a Dark Mage. A Steel Rank Dark Mage. All for what? Why don't you give him what he wants?"

"He wants Alaric. That's not something we can do," the boy argued.

The woman stared at him like he was stupid, "He's just a boy."

At this point, Alistair wanted to slap the woman in the face and then some, but he kept his cool and ran a hand through his hair, "That's like telling a slayer to just give the demon what it wants. His life."

"If you don't give him what he wants, hundreds of people will die. And all for what? All for some boy they've never even met?" the Matriarch yelled, panting hard, "I can't believe I'm even having this argument with a child. You know nothing of this world and yet you act like you know right from wrong. Yes, I've been watching you since you came here, Alistair.

Everyone thinks you're some sort of prodigy, but I've not seen you do anything that makes you more valuable than my Lucy… who you took from me."

Alistair let her yell and nodded in response to her words. She had gone from a quiet shell to a wailing one in seconds, and that didn't bother him one bit. He was here to deliver a message and one he hoped, for all their sakes, that she would listen.

After a short moment of silence, waiting for the Matriarch's breath to calm down, he cleared his throat. "You can help us defeat the Dark Mage. You can help us save Melbourne."

The woman looked up at him with a look of disbelief. It was the kind of face that made Alistair feel like he'd missed a step, "Are you missing a screw in that proud head of yours? I'm no fighter. I can't beat that Dark Mage, especially not a Steel Rank. Not even with a domain, if I could somehow make one. I know that's why you came to save me. I'm not a fool," the woman argued, "Just leave me be. Let me die in my city… with my people."

"Did you build this city alone, Matriarch?" Alistair asked. The woman froze, and the boy continued, "I heard that you had to do a lot of things to build this city. You cut many deals, made a lot of compromises and even borrowed a lot of money to build this city into what it is today, but what gave you the idea that you could save it alone?"

"The day I realised that a single person could destroy everything I'd worked for, I learnt my place in this world. The strong bully the weak, and that's how it's always been. In this city, money makes you strong… but in the face of monsters like the ones in our sky right now, we're nothing," she answered.

"You're right," Alistair answered with a smile. So what if the Matriarch had given up? Hope only existed when there was a reason for it to exist, so he continued speaking, "Everything you've said is right. Every choice you've made in your life has been right because there has always been one missing variable."

"What missing variable?" the woman asked, a spark igniting in the deep hollow pools of her eyes, a spark that gave Alistair the urge to grin. He could barely contain himself.

"You've tried to establish your domain plenty of times, but have never been able to. Have you tried asking people with domains how they established theirs?" Alistair asked.

The Matriarch sighed, and the spark of hope in her eye died. She pulled herself to the wall, not minding the state of her dress, and leaned against it.

Quietly, she continued, "They call them Lords, and you sound like you've never met one. Impossible to get to and even then, they won't talk. The closest answer I've ever gotten was from this old guy who said 'You're asking all the wrong questions' which was a big load of shit. I grew tired of their riddles and tried paying for information from the Tower of Seekers. They said I didn't have enough money to buy that kind of information," the woman responded.

At this point, Alistair was grinning like a fool, "The old man was right. You were asking the wrong questions. I believe everyone can create a domain if they wanted to, but in your case, the thing blocking you is quite simple."

"What's that, smarty pants?" the Matriarch asked in a light-hearted tone, "Enlighten me."

"You. Hate. The. Emperor."

The Matriach's face twisted in ways Alistair had never witnessed in his eyes, forcing him to take a step away from the woman, "Who doesn't in this whole town? What has he ever done for me? For us?"

"Your hatred for the Emperor blinds you from the forces that would hear your call," the boy explained further.

"Just like the rest of them, you mock me…"

Alistair stopped the woman mid-sentence. "I don't have much time to explain, but I can say this. Because you hate the Emperor, you've never once allowed yourself to believe in the rulers of this continent, and for that reason, you lost touch with the one you need to manifest a domain."

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"There is only one Emperor," she answered, her voice low with silent anger.

The boy smirked devilishly, "Then why are the Emperor's Men searching high and low in every city, town and village surrounding the Tower. Why is there a Dark Mage in the city rumoured to be harbouring a boy matching the description of a recent S-class Aspirant? Why are they willing to destroy Melbourne just to get their hands on this boy? Why hasn't there been an S-class guardian in fifteen years… only for one to appear here. Why does your own guardian try to reason with you, despite your efforts to disobey? You call her naive. You call her foolish. You call her… ignorant."

"How do you know about my guardian?" the woman inched away from the boy.

"I came here to ask for your help, but the truth is, you cannot help me unless you know the reason your domain will never sprout. You've shut yourself so far from the possibility of a good leader that you won't see the salvation this continent's been waiting for. The balance we've been looking for. The end of all demons. The reason demons stir all around just to bring this one boy down. It is because they fear what he could become. Light, itself," Alistair spoke.

"You're crazy!" the woman snapped at the boy, "You're a lunatic. A heretic, just like those Tower bastards."

Alistair's face gleamed, "Ah! So they did tell you something. You just thought they were spouting heretic lies."

"Get away from me! The Emperor could have your head for spouting such nonsense," the Matriarch was getting frantic, and the aether in the air was starting to spark in response to her agitation.

"Look around you, Matriarch. Your city is burning because of the Emperor you fear… when the one who will save you stands to fight a foe he cannot dream of defeating as he is now. He won't falter. He won't retreat. He won't let people suffer just so that he can live. He might even die fighting for this city. So, why won't you help him?"

"Because I don't know how. I'm weak," the Matriarch argued.

Alistair paused to take a breath, pacing back and forth. This, however, was an act meant to let the Matriarch catch up to all that had been said. Hints had been dropped here and there, and now, all that was left was for the woman to connect the dots or for her guardian to do so.

He badly wanted to scream it into her face, but a voice whispered into his mind, [ Let her come to the answer. She needs to make the connection if she's going to manifest that domain on her first try. ]

Alistair finally stopped pacing and sighed.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't truly believe that you could help us win this," Alistair spoke with conviction. "You've met all the requirements to create a domain, plus you want to protect Melbourne. You're almost there."

The Matriarch's soulless eyes were struggling to maintain a calm facade. Tears had streamed down her face through this conversation, and now, it felt like she might just crumble under the weight of this boy's words.

His words were cryptic and well-thought-out—a little forceful even—but they touched on things the Matriarch had heard before. It was like he was bridging the gap between all the riddles the Lords had left her and the truth she knew to be true.

The Matriarch was smart enough to know what he was saying. 'Trust the boy fighting out there to protect your city.'

But not just simple trust. It went beyond that. This hinted at the boy being far more than she'd made him out to be, and yet, the Matriarch still had questions… and doubts.

Before she could even begin to understand why the Imperial army was after him, she struggled to understand his reason for staying and fighting.

'Why?' she wondered, listening to the sound of exploding buildings and clashing swords. The aether hummed as the boy's power clashed with the tyrannical force of the Dark Mage's wrath, 'Why is he trying to protect this city? He should have just left when he had the chance.'

[ That's because he's not that kind of person. ] A familiar voice whispered into her mind. It was a voice she hadn't heard in a very long time.

A pang of pain blared in her chest. It was always good for a master to hear their guardian's voice, but when it took this long, that warm feeling turned vindictive. The Matriarch scoffed. [ You speak to me now, when I'm at my weakest point. ]

[ At your strongest, I was but a nuisance to you. My words were mere gibberish to be tossed aside. Perhaps now you might listen. ] the guardian answered softly.

[ That's because you were always going on and on about a myth. A children's story. A fairytale about a man who doesn't exist. I am not a child. I know what's real and what's not. ] the woman yelled at the guardian.

Before their conversation could continue, a shuffling sound behind Alistair drew their attention. Without waiting to be discovered, a boy dressed in civilian clothing topped with light leather armour stepped out into the open, arms raised in surrender. His sandy brown hair and freckled face were severely out of place, rousing no part of the Matriarch's memory.

In addition to that, he wasn't of any significant Temper Rank, and yet his voice came out steady and confident, almost playful, "Hello."

…………………………

Alaric was panting heavily. His armoury of tricks was slowly dwindling. He'd cleverly forced Avaros to create weaknesses in his Spirit Vessel. By using Spirit Sight to attack the Dark Mage in places where his Spirit Vessel was weakened because of layering it in others, he dealt more damage than a Wood Rank should have been capable of. When the man didn't layer it, he attacked normally with his attacks reinforced with Spirit Layering.

Alone, this strategy was risky as Alaric opened himself up to injury; however, coupling it all with teleportation, he achieved the purpose of a nuisance, which was a big achievement in and of itself.

Then there were the golden weapons spilling out of his Storage Bracelet with no end to them.

It was no Evo-Sword, but the Heaven-Crested Eagles had provided Alaric with just the kind of armoury he needed to enrich the Dance of the Sword with suitable weapons. That, and the fact that he always found the chance to drop the items back into the Bracelet for another summoning, just to make his arsenal seem endless.

Alaric brought a massive spear down on the Dark Mage and activated his Teleportation Ability, only for his gut to scream out at him. His intuition, for once, was so strong it caused him to jerk backwards in time to dodge the dark blade of a large scythe by a hair.

The black scythe pierced the ground and ruptured the road, throwing stones everywhere. Alaric flexed his muscles and gritted his teeth with expressions one made when they were trying to activate something with no success.

"No more of that poofing in and out of nowhere for you," the Dark Mage growled. Alaric's eyes widened. He'd been grounded. "Any last words?"

Alaric stared at him before pulling a pair of blades from his Storage Bracelet. Against a foe like this one, defence meant nothing. A single hit was bound to break his bones, so the best strategy was to either redirect the force or not get hit, and Alaric wasn't confident in his ability to achieve the former.

Alaric noted that the circle of runes floating at his back still existed, 'Seems he can't get rid of that one with his dark magic.'

Aether roared through his system, drawing on the halo of aether floating in the air to replace what he'd spent.

For as long as the river of aether floating above remained, Alaric's aether would flow with no end in sight. He would unleash the full explosive force of eight Aether Cataclysts on this man if that's what it would take.

The air seemed to sizzle around him as his channels filled with flowing aether. He took a battle stance with the blades curving downwards in Alaric's hands, and said, "Arrogance suits you, Dark One."

In the next moment, Avaros was in front of Alaric, twin scythes coming in from both sides to cut the boy in half, a wicked grin splitting his face. As part of a bad habit, he looked up at the eyes of his victim, but what he found sent his confidence right back where it had crawled up from.

This boy, Alaric, a Wood Temper of the Fifth Level, was staring right back at him, unfazed by the burst of speed a Steel Rank like himself was capable of.

This was the first time it was happening, and it threw him for a loop.

Something happened, but Avaros couldn't be bothered to figure out what. By some hocus pocus, this overpowered Wood Rank had not only kept up with him, but countered as well.

The Dark Mage felt rage welling up within him as his body went sailing yet again. His shadow scythes had dissolved into nothing, just like all the other weapons he'd called. The man rolled on the broken gravel and stone, bringing himself to a stop a few metres away.

A sharp pain in his neck indicated a cut that was now in the process of healing, dark veins coiling around to preserve his life. The throbbing pain in his neck and gut alerted him to some other attacks, 'Two punches,' he couldn't tell.

Alaric wasn't going to wait that long, though, and Avaros knew it.

A wall of shadows rose in front of him instinctively, only for him to hear a set of feet landing on the other side with a skid. Avaros growled in anger and kicked off the ground, rising ten feet in less than a second, "You persistent nasty little SHIT! SUMMON!"

Black painted the sky as circular ripples curved the space around Avaros. From the black ripples tips of blades of all shapes and sized peeked out. Swords, spears, arrows, knives, pole-arms and more that Alaric couldn't name.

"I've had about enough of you," the Dark Mage yelled, breathing badly.

"And yet you still fight," Alaric responded calmly as he swapped his knives for a peculiar blade with a long grip and changed his stance.

"Get the hell out of there!" A man yelled at the top of his voice, diving right in front of Alaric as one of the weapons came sailing right for the boy's chest. Alaric had seen the spear coming, but the man it impaled and sent rolling on the ground behind him was a different story.

His blood blended with the colour of his vermilion attire as he lay there bleeding.

"Looks like we now know where your loyalties lie, Commander," Avaros grinned before letting his hand fall in a dramatic gesture, "Die with the heretic."

The blades came down like a meteor shower of death, wreathed in dark magic and intent on killing the boy in front of them, and the man clinging to life behind him. Alaric narrowed his eyebrows and gripped his sword tightly, [ How far with that domain, Alia? ]