There was a knock at the door that startled Masaru as the clock started to wind into the evening.
Eleanor and Aaron were supposed to be out still doing their training, allowing him to ponder over the details of the boy's uniqueness.
Eleanor, the girl the young boy had brought with him, was nothing special in the swordsman's eyes.
The Angel assigned to keep watch over his actions in the Sea of Polar Storms by order of the God of Death was a dear friend of his, and he was quite powerful, too.
She, though, was the priestess who had returned from death with a mysterious emblem that she would not explain.
Nevertheless, the man could not see any potential on the path to divinity for her.
For a moment during their spar, he had seen her cast a miracle; however, it was far too weak and would end up killing her if used incorrectly.
That was a disappointment to him, something that he saw as an unforgivable blight on her life.
To go through what she did, and come back with nothing to show for it, was gut-wrenching, even for a man who had conquered the world of swordsmanship.
Yet, that was merely his own thoughts.
And those thoughts did not last forever.
Standing up and moving towards the door, he heard the patter of knocking once more.
Slowly, he turned the handle and pulled inward, allowing whatever awaited him to come into view.
"Hello…"
Eleanor, breathing ragged and with visible blood seeping from her neck, fell into his arms without even a second of hesitation.
Masaru froze, not quite knowing what had happened and clearly in no position to wait any longer.
Soon, he rushed to her room and treated the strangulation wounds that he found upon her neck while also piecing together the story of what happened based on her testimony.
It was a common thing in the Sea of Polar Storms for frost wendigos to kill humans and mask their monstrous form within their husk; however, he could find no way in which she had killed one.
All that the man could feel as he aided the girl was a small tremor in his right hand, not out of worry, but out of uncontrollable repulsion for something dwelling within.
Not only that, but as he dried the blood that had formed a trail from her mouth to her neck, the shining golden image of that emblem appeared before him.
Something had happened that he was sure of.
However, unlike his spar with the girl, this action was no miracle.
…
There was a certain level of confusion that Masaru could handle within one day.
He had spent a large portion of his life experiencing the unimaginable darkness that lurked deep in the world and the corruption of the powers that governed it.
Yet, his emotions had always been the same.
Controlled, plain, stagnant.
Aaron Grimstall and Eleanor Lynn, however, broke that long-held tradition.
Only about half an hour after settling the girl into a relaxed state, with her injuries able to heal naturally, a new knock had resounded from the door.
Unlike before, he actually did expect the arrival of the boy and Rudiger, but that preparation only extended so far.
Now, as he stared blankly at the blond-haired boy whose coat had been removed and shirt soaked through with blood, he frowned.
Within Aaron's hand, a severed cut fragment of the sea terror's leg sat wrapped in the coat that he had removed from around himself.
His complexion was pale, and each step he made was so precarious that the black-haired man was worried he'd fall at any second.
"Are you…?"
Masaru began to speak, but was hurriedly silenced by the young boy.
"I did it… That damned leg…"
The boy smiled weakly while looking up and into the swordsman's eyes with a sense of pride, but also fatigue.
"Now… If you don't mind me…"
He took a step forward, now placing himself directly beside the man.
"I'm going to go take a nap…"
With those words, the moderately wounded boy stumbled inside and into his bedroom, where he promptly fell into his bed.
The scene recalled Eleanor's arrival, leaving the man with an uncomfortable sense of déjà vu.
The only thing that snapped him out was the limping Rudiger, who had also been waiting outside, patiently watching as Aaron made his way in.
Masaru simply groaned and rubbed his temples slowly.
"Don't collapse on me. I'm not helping you up…"
…
Sound permeated from every direction of a dense jungle bursting with flora and fauna.
Large trees sprouted up into the heavens while bushes blocked conventional paths from being tread and allowed dangerous monsters to stay undetected.
This was none other than the Cosmoti Archipelago itself, a place so cursed that the Sea of Curses would merely be any average sea without its existence.
Standing within a small clearing on one of the largest islands in the cluster, a certain man began to speak loudly.
"Let me introduce you to your new colleagues."
Azaroth Pane, dressed in his finest suit with his hair neatly combed, gestured towards a group of six individuals.
He, of course, was addressing none other than Orion Cosmoti, who stood chained to the side of a bald, burly guard named Brutus.
"Hmm… How should I order this…"
The persona that spoke now was not that of the Devil of Greed, who cohabited the body of Azaroth Pane, but rather, the real soul who started the war six years prior.
He held his finger close to his beard, tapping it lightly, clearly immersed in thought.
"Ah, yes, let's start from the newest members to the oldest members!"
Clapping his hands, he pointed towards a man with long brown hair dressed in a dark trench coat.
"Zarethul Fortegran, the Seventh Head of our fair order. Pesky little fellow, I tell you! Hired him straight from Tillean Shipping Company up North, and he can haggle like nobody else!"
Cosmoti narrowed his eyes as he looked closer at not just the physical appearance of the man, but also what lay behind the visible.
He was clearly strong; however, he would certainly meet his end at the hands of his first mate, Palmer White.
They are different elites from during the war… Even if we only killed half of them, it's odd that he would replace them all…
Keeping the detail in his mind, the green-haired man nodded and waited for the halfling to continue.
"Next, joining at a similar time to Zarethul is our dear friend Stein Brevmore, the Fifth Head. You know him enough that I need not explain his psychological issues per se…"
The silver-haired man gave a slightly crazed smile to the Sea King, whom he had watched for only a few days before being ordered to return to the islands.
The Brevmore family still holds significant sway in the Holy Capital and Land of Deities… Oakly even considered marrying into that family, at least, until he saw what their eldest daughter looked like…
Not one to make fun of another's appearance, Cosmoti detested the reasoning behind his fellow King's decision, though, after hearing other pieces, he could understand better.
I heard she once killed her servant because he put a lemon in her drink instead of a lime…
Taking a deep breath and shifting his glance away from the Brevmore before him, he heard Azaroth begin again.
"Rose Laquis, the Sixth Head, and our most beautiful member. She's our little prophet who can detect anomalies like no other. I'm sure the reason she's sizing you up is the residual divinity that has been ingrained into your soul."
Catching her eyes, the shackled man saw a flicker of malice flash across her face, causing him to frown slightly.
She dislikes me already…?
"Octavia Herslon, the Fourth Head. Our resident cripple."
His words interrupted the former Sea King's thoughts but also presented something that he hadn't sensed before.
As he spoke that woman's name, who Cosmoti identified as the blind woman with short brown hair, there was a disdain laced behind every word.
Not only that, but unlike the others, he did not explain them in any way, shape, or form.
It was something unusual, and as such, the green-haired man took note of it.
"Focus."
A sudden jolt of his chains snapped him back to what was happening around him.
Brutus had apparently decided that he wasn't paying close enough attention to the boss's speech and therefore tightened his grip on the shackles.
Fool.
Shaking his head, Cosmoti glanced at the sight of the next member on the list.
"Portman Wreath, the Third Head. A monster of a man who was once a candidate for the First Head position. While being a part of the older group of elites, he wasn't always the most obedient dog. Unfortunately, his sister, whose talents far surpassed his, even bordering on the Marshal level, couldn't make it today."
There was a reaction across the dark-skinned man's face, one clearly of irritation at the mention of his sister.
Wreath… Could that woman have been his sister?
There was a pause from Azaroth as he looked over at his prisoner calmly, not caring for even a moment about the clear look of realization that had dawned on his face.
"You're already familiar with the Second Head, Esme Blair. I won't elaborate too much, but you mustn't think of her as any old innocent child. She is our priestess and oracle into the realm of our lord, and any disfavor you show to her is equal to that to our god."
The man's face was completely steadfast and serious, with not even a flicker of humor.
Cosmoti could tell that he wasn't simply bluffing, but almost mocking the man.
Speaking out of line would lead to nothing but suffering, a fact he knew well enough to understand immediately.
"Finally then…"
Azaroth smiled and pointed towards the sky.
For a moment, there was nothing, yet as if on cue, a dark blotch descended so rapidly that the former Sea King nearly did a double-take.
A man with pitch-black wings and navy hair approached Orion without care, his hand winding back and then striking him across the jaw.
The horned man who watched the chain of events chuckled and finished his introduction proudly.
"Raymond Filch, the First Head of the Seven Head Order, was granted one singular moniker."
He paused, his lips curling up.
"The Dark Angel of Heaven."