Odyssey of the Guardian Emperor

The High Sentinel brought the crew back to the Pantheon in silence. The air about them was tense, and no one dared to break the silence till they'd landed. It was Alaric's first time seeing the golden eagle silent and pensive, drowning in thoughts that were no doubt going to bring him pain in the future.

'Decisions don't get any easier… even after centuries,' he'd thought to himself.

He even tried rubbing gentle, comforting circles through the eagle's rich gold feathers during their flight, and only succeeded in making observations. The High Sentinel's body was a lot more sturdy than Dara'k's, yet his feathers felt a lot softer.

This gentle rubbing was something Sister Marla used to do for the orphans back in the Five Hills. Every time one of them was upset or brooding at the dining table, she'd settle down and either talk to them or spend some silent time next to them.

It always worked for Alaric and the orphans, but it didn't seem to do anything for the High Sentinel's sombre mood. The leader of the demiplane set them down in the courtyard of the Pantheon, allowing Alaric to climb off before he returned to his human form.

A gentle silence settled over the group while Ungv'ak gathered himself.

Alaric wished he lacked the awareness to see how awkward it was for a man he'd only met a few weeks ago to be affected by him this much—a Saint rank, no less. Sadly, he had that awareness and recognised just how slim the chances were supposed to be.

"All this agony over the arrival of a fifteen-year-old child," LionHeart wondered quietly, "You must have been very good friends with this Soren guy."

The High Sentinel shrugged, "Soren had many friends. It made many of us envious. For what it's worth, I apologise on behalf of the demiplane for my son's actions," To Alaric, he added, "I'm both impressed you could take an attack from a Steel Rank and embarrassed that it came from my son, whom I've always taught to respect the Guardian Emperor. It's like I fueled his urge to attack you instead."

"It's okay, really," Alaric responded, "I'd be more worried if everyone just went along with my whims as the Guardian Emperor. That's not what a normal society should look like, unless they are visited by spirits of the past every full moon."

"That sounds a lot like something Jack would do," the High Sentinel raised an eyebrow, "You visited his resting place?"

"More like his town—a nice place called Jack's Fall, close to where I grew up. Wonderful people, and the safest place I've ever walked into," Alaric responded, "The people there had the chance to meet their ancestors on every full moon. It's like they all had time to meet a personal therapist once a month."

The High Sentinel looked more baffled than impressed, "How much lower can I fall? Not only have I failed to run my demiplane, but I'm getting outdone by that… that airhead! No offence."

"None taken," Alaric choked back a laugh, "You two have history?"

"Of course, we do. He was a Pillar, and he made sure everyone understood just how great it made him, as if there was anything more important to him than his looks. Only humans can be Pillars, so of course, the two of us fought on occasion. That self-absorbed, narcissistic… argghhh! If I could see him one more time, I'd challenge him to a Duel of Wind," the High Sentinel went on, flying through more emotions than Alaric had ever seen on his face in such a short time.

"You were… enemies?" Alaric wanted to assume. Normally, everything the High Sentinel had said would be enough to conclude that they were enemies, but all his words lacked malice.

At this point, Ungv'ak burst into a gentle laugh, "Ha! That's what everyone thought."

"But through the Duel of Wind, the two of you were best friends who understood each other more than any words could describe," Par'al's voice filtered into the courtyard. The dismissed Heaven-Crested Eagle was seated by the statue in the middle of the courtyard, looking crestfallen.

The air turned heavy, and Alaric thought for a fact that the High Sentinel would lose his cool like Corv'ak had back at the plaza, but instead, the man regarded Par'al with a soft gaze, "You have something to say, Par'al?"

"Yes…" Par'al answered, "I do… but I don't know how to say it."

"Well, if you wish to challenge the boy to the Duel of Wind, you can't. It would risk shattering his meridians," the High Sentinel answered gravely.

Par'al scrunched his eyebrows, "I don't understand."

"Alaric is here to rise to the Stone Rank. His aether is already too potent for his channels. Putting him through a Duel of Wind would only make the situation worse," the High Sentinel explained, "You'll have to wait till after the Tempering Ritual."

Par'al nodded, his mood tanking even more, but before he could turn to walk away, Alaric stepped forward.

"Wait…" Everyone paused for a bit, curiosity burning in their eyes. Alaric swallowed. "We don't have the Duel of Wind where I come from. Instead, when we want to say something, we just say it, or at least we try. If someone's too shy to use words, then they use thoughtful gestures, heartfelt letters or even subtle actions or little gifts to try and reach out to the other person."

"That sounds dumb," Par'al scoffed.

Alaric chuckled, "It is, but it's what we've got. And sometimes, it works. So, thank you. For the tour and everything. Your taste in food is appalling, and I find your affection for Featherball troubling, but your actions are sincere and genuine, and for that, I am grateful. I had fun."

Par'al's face was turning a slight shade of red, and Alaric didn't miss the held-back snickers Grun'am was struggling to contain. The demihuman stuttered, "I like the Duel of Wind better."

"Oh? But I'm not in the right condition to fight."

"It didn't look that way when you kept taunting Rail'ak," Par'al spat out.

Alaric resisted the urge to smirk, "Rail'ak was looking for a fight. Are you looking for a fight with me, Par'al?"

"No, of course not," Par'al turned redder, "I'm here to apologise through a Duel of Wind." The words left him before he had to chance to rationalise.

Scarlett burst out behind them, then hid behind Kair'ak, who was struggling to contain herself just as much, "You look like a strawberry, Par'al."

"No, I don't," he blurted out, "Ugh, forget it. I'll be at the Twister this evening. You two can drop by if you want." He transformed with a whirlwind of golden light and shot to the sky, flying faster than Alaric thought eagles capable.

"We won't show up if we're not free, so don't blame us if we don't turn up," Kair'ak yelled at him as he was leaving.

Alaric chuckled, watching Par'al leave so flustered, "How is he on Prince Rail'ak's side?"

"Because until today, being on my side meant doing nothing," the High Sentinel spoke behind me, "Now, that notion will unravel. I know you don't want war, so what do you wish to do about the demons? Soren was never one to seek strength without cause."

Alaric smirked, "I need strength to end all demonkind. To challenge the Demon King."

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"That's ambitious," the High Sentinel chuckled, "Learn more about them. They are products of Dark Magic. That's why it's forbidden."

"Umm, hello…" a voice interrupted them. Scarlett stood behind the High Sentinel, bowing slightly before addressing him, "About training? Is there something we should know about the Training Grounds before we go there?"

The High Sentinel shook his head, "No. Although the Training Grounds would attract a lot of attention, which, as we just saw today, would be bad. You can train here in the courtyard. I reinforced the ground myself, so don't worry about breaking anything."

"What about practice weapons?"

"Right!" the man turned to Grun'am, "See to it that they have everything they need. You're dismissed when Alaric says you're dismissed." To Alaric, his gaze softened a little, "I'm sorry for the rotten hospitality some of my people have shown you. If you don't visit the city during the rest of your days here, that's understandable."

"You have nothing to apologise for. Your city is beautiful," Alaric countered, trying his best to ignore the fact that a Saint Rank was apologising to him, "It would be a waste if I didn't enjoy it while I still can. I need to know, though. Do you have a different currency here? We used gold and silver marks earlier, but the merchants gave us odd looks."

"Oh yes, we have a currency. I had fun coming up with it nine hundred years ago. I'll take you through it later, but don't worry about converting your money since I'll be covering your expenses," the man explained, then left before Alaric could complain. Again, not without letting the boy see a sinister smirk on his face.

'So treating people nicely is a way of torture now?' he internally growled.

[ Treating people nicely? ] Sabre laughed from the In-Between. [ He's shoving luxuries in your face against your will. ]

[ And I'm dying to make him stop. It's too much for me. ] Alaric added in a flat, sarcastic tone.

WorldHammer cracked up, risking a headache forming in the boy's head.

LionHeart placed a hand on Alaric's shoulder as he watched the High Sentinel leave, "It's like you swallowed a pill that helps you avoid bills."

"It's not even funny."

"Maybe not to you," the man chuckled, then turned worried, "I've seen that face before. You're still planning on paying, aren't you?"

"No one said it's wrong to tip people for their services. I mean, it would be rude to just take advantage of Ungv'ak's hospitality," Alaric defended himself.

"You're so boring." The man rolled his eyes, "Now that we have the time, grab a sword. I think I'm ready to learn some more about the Dance of the Sentinel."

Alaric agreed, and preparations began. Grun'am returned minutes later with a rack full of wooden weapons in his claws. Placing them down, the eagle shifted back into his human form and stepped aside, barely winded.

Scarlett asked Kair'ak to be her training partner, and before Lucy knew it, she was alone, standing beside a sulking Grun'am. She turned to the male demihuman with a suspicious look on her face, "I just realised I'm the only one not looking to grow stronger out of all of us. Should I be looking for a way to grow stronger?"

"Shouldn't you be asking your guardian such questions?" the man grumbled.

"Our bond is messy, so there is not much we can do without it getting fixed," the girl answered.

Grun'am gave her an odd look, which launched Lucy into a whole explanation of guardians and bonds that he never asked for. Despite the annoyed look on her face, she unloaded the information into his face.

"…as you can tell, until Alaric helps me with my guardian, I can't attempt a Tempering Ritual, which means I'm stuck, but I don't want to be stuck because everyone around me is getting stronger and training. And yes, I should probably pick up a sword and learn to use it, but I'm a Holy Mage. We need to focus hard on using our powers, or everyone else will die from demons outside the Holy Barriers."

"Slow down, girl, and be grateful that I heard half of what you just said."

"Thank you."

"Ugh," he pinched the bridge of his nose, "Let me think… not that there is anything better for me to do. So, you made a deal with the Guardian Emperor to fix the bond with your guardian?"

"Yes."

"Why hasn't he done it yet?"

"He's been having trouble with his guardian," the girl responded.

"He needs his guardian for that?"

"Guardians know us better than we know ourselves most of the time. Considering Alaric just found out he's the Guardian Emperor, his guardian is keeping a lot from him," the girl answered.

Grun'am's eyes went wide. "How long has he known?"

"A few weeks. Why?"

"Crap!" the demihuman cursed, remembering the conversation they'd had earlier that day, "Why hasn't he said anything?"

"Expectations from an entire demiplane?" the girl raised her eyebrows, "That should be obvious. Now, can we come back to me, please?"

"You are doing fine just the way you are. You have nothing to prove. I'm surprised you became a High-tier Glass Rank with a messed-up bond," Grun'am answered, "But the fact remains that you need your bond fixed. So while everyone's focused on growing stronger physically, perhaps you should try expanding your knowledge. If you can't improve physically, then improve mentally."

"Mentally?"

"Yes, read books. Learn more about aether and magic. Perfect your aether channelling techniques and learn more efficient spells and methods of spell casting. Must I go on?" Grun'am grunted.

"No, I get the gist," Lucy answered. A gentle calm came over them as Grun'am turned back to watch the others. Meanwhile, Lucy leaned in closer to him, staring at his white eyebrows with curiosity, "You're actually a good person when you try, Grun'am."

"I just want to get you to stop talking so I can pay attention to what the Guardian Emperor is about to do. The sword he's picked up is not his style," Grun'am responded, gently pushing the human away from him.

"His style?" Lucy leaned away, "Scarlett told me Alaric is capable of every style there is."

"That's impossible even for one as special as him," laughter echoed from Grun'am's lips. Such a claim was indeed a great one to make, and Lucy didn't mind that he laughed.

"That's what I told her, but she insisted. And since Scarlett's a former assassin, there must be some truth to her words," the girl answered.

What they witnessed afterwards, however, brought them closer to believing this.

Alaric weighed a wooden great-sword he'd picked from the rack in his hands, making sure it was as heavy as he liked. He adjusted the training instrument by either feeding it aether or taking it out. When it was just right with a few swings, he turned to LionHeart, "How's it looking?"

Standing a reasonable distance from him, LionHeart was holding a similar greatsword. It went well with his large build—like it was made for him. He gave it a few swings and nodded satisfactorily, "I can work with this."

LionHeart turned to Alaric and took his battle stance. One foot forward, both hands holding a blade that stood taller than his already tall frame, towering over Alaric like a herald of doom. He was far, and yet now he felt near, like the distance meant nothing.

The wind blew a tad slower, and Alaric's heartbeat rose with a flush of adrenaline, goosebumps rising all over his body. LionHeart's form had grown comparable to Alia's.

The towering protector didn't wait for him to get ready either, shooting forward with breakneck speed, carrying a blade powerful enough to cut logs in half.

The blade came from the side in a horizontal slash, crossing a great distance ahead of him. For a moment, Alaric's body blurred, and LionHeart saw the movement. It was too fast for him to make out in detail, but he saw it.

Alaric had jumped into a cartwheel at the right moment, placing his foot gently on the flat of the big man's blade as it swung passed his former position, a grin splitting his face before he leapt over him.

Goosebumps broke out all over Alaric's arms. "What good form! I'm getting chills."

"Not good enough!" LionHeart grunted through the power it took for him to follow through the swing of his blade in a vicious circular arc. His footwork, true to the Dance of the Sentinel, placed him two steps back, effectively pushing him out of Alaric's range while placing his blade in between them. This was a defensive variation of the Dance of the Sentinel, and Alaric was impressed by what he saw.

Holding up his greatsword, Alaric locked into the first stance before LionHeart had the chance to attack. The two faced each other, already breathing hard. The exchange had barely lasted five seconds, and yet they'd both used a lot of energy to keep themselves from losing.

Alaric smiled, "I'm impressed. Now, let's find out how far your practice has brought you."

With that, they came at each other with everything they had, keeping Aether Manipulation out of the duel just like they used to practise back in the Five Hills.

Scarlett stared at the duel between the two men with a sour expression, "Can you believe I've been training every day ever since we met, and I still can't understand how that brat got so good?"

Kair'ak, who was fastening the laces of her boots and getting ready for a session she hadn't seen coming, responded nonchalantly, "Well, I've heard the boy has rarely missed a day of training since he turned eleven. So your—I don't know— ten days or so, would have nothing against over four years of constant training. It takes discipline to get that good."

"How do you know that?"

"The sandy-haired brat who went to the Tower told me," the golden and white haired girl pulled Scarlett's head away from the battle with her hands, "Hey, show me your strength, girl. I've seen you be ruthless when you need to be."

Scarlett nodded, "Makes no difference if I lack the strength. Train me, Kair'ak."

Kair'ak sighed, "Start with some warm-ups."

"Oh? You're so kind. The assassins who trained me always loved to wake me up with a cold bucket of water before trying to gut me," Scarlett smirked, through her first stretch, "You're soft, Kair'ak."

"Soft? This is for your own good."

"Mine, or yours?" Scarlett sang, "Don't tell me you're better at healing than you are at fighting."

"I will make you eat dirt for even suggesting that I'm weaker than you," Kair'ak warned.

"If you weren't a High-tier Stone Rank, I bet I'd be able to put you down easy," Scarlett responded through a laugh, "But it makes no difference when you're that soft."

"Skip the warm-up! Let's see what you've got. Just like last time, I'll not be using my other hand, but I'll have to warn you. This time, Healing Elixirs won't be enough for the kind of bruises you're going to get," Kair'ak quipped.

"Then, it's a good thing I brought some," Scarlett got ready with two wooden knives, "Because you're going to need them."