Charon’s days began with aches and ended with bruises. The mornings were claid by Wallflower and her relentless drills, the afternoons by the Stadia’s unforgiving pit, and the evenings by quiet conversations with Erius, both of them hunched over old texts and stranger questions.
Wallflower rarely greeted him. The mont he arrived, it was the next lesson.
Balance, form, and transitions between swings. Parrying from awkward angles. Learning when to commit and when to wait patiently. She used words like "efficiency" and "adaptability" religiously, hoping to drill them into his head.
Her eyes judged him before her voice ever did, which annoyed him to no end.
By the final day before the mission, he could spin the scythe around his back and catch it in stride. That earned a nod.
It also earned him the "pleasure" of her fighting back even harder.
"You keep trying to push power into every strike."
She told him after a particularly lopsided spar.
"That’s not how scythes win fights. They manipulate, they guide, and they punish mistakes. Yours is just loud."
He grunted back while catching his breath.
"I’m just trying to end things quickly!"
She shook her head.
"That is a poor vision of combat. You must be prepared for it to last hours if it must. To rush it is to invite death."
Between bouts, he found himself alone in the training hall more often. Practicing footwork, polishing the scythe’s curve, even rehearsing disarming techniques that Wallflower had taught him against a tal dummy
He nad it Phillip.
Phillip took quite the beating.
The fights in the Stadia ca next. Four per hour, like clockwork. He weaved in his new skills at every chance, fighting alongside his summons and allowing them to complent him
The audience loved it, chanting the na Jester when he was both in and out of the arena.
He washed it off that night in a shallow tub, staring at the floor as water turned gray around him.
By the sixth match, he had a sizable reputation. Not the strongest, nor the flashiest, but still sothing dangerous. The announcer started giving him longer intros.
He started to hear his na whispered when he walked to the apartnt or to the Stadia, often accompanied by various other fighters they hoped to see him face.
He didn’t know how to feel about that.
’I’m becoming sothing of a hero, but I’m not quite there yet.’
At night, he’d return to Erius’s room. The door was always open. Sotis the tall boy would be reading, other tis copying notes. Scrolls, books, holo-pads.
All of it arranged in ticulous clusters, like pieces of a larger puzzle only he could see, despite the nurous attempts Charon made to make sense of it all.
What made it harder was how often it changed. He would leave for twenty minutes, only to return to a different maze altogether.
One evening, Charon brought up sothing he had been wondering about while tenderly wrapping a cut on his arm from a fight. He had been slow, a dagger managing to slice around his wrist.
"This spy, what do you think the High Elders did with him? Is he even alive?"
Erius didn’t look up.
"I doubt it. They undoubtedly have powerful mind mages far stronger than Red. They most likely learned all they could and executed him soon after."
They had spent the last week cross-referencing locations, the nas the spy had muttered, notes from the history books, and even old maps of the River Acheron.
Those were the most difficult, with faded borders and strange mountain ranges that no longer existed. Annie occasionally ca by to help with this part, her knowledge unquestionable.
Erius pointed to a passage that ntioned a place called Itrik, described as a eting point for many nations. According to Annie, however, it was now buried under a mountain of ash, and the existence of any structures was only referenced in these specific books.
Charon tapped the page.
"All of these must be real. They reference each other through the books, even when it’s from another author. They also follow modern features, like craters and natural disasters."
Erius leaned forward and saw what he was referring to. It was a city in one of the history books with a modern map Annie provided layered above it. The map depicted it as a hole caused by a massive spell-gone-wrong.
"They line up perfectly."
Charon nodded.
"Dozens of cities are like that, as well as other points of interest. Destroyed, removed from the realm entirely, and covered up with these events."
Erius’ brow furrowed.
"But why? Why would soone go to all that effort?"
That was the tricky part, yet he had a theory all the sa, mostly deriving from his talk with the leader of the High Elders.
"The civil war between the Animancers. I think they wanted to make sure they couldn’t return by removing anything they could have connections to. If the war drags on too long, we might find another way out at one of the spots. An overlooked part, perhaps, or a buried section of a city."
The next morning, Wallflower nearly dislocated his shoulder in a lesson about counter-leverage.
"Too stiff."
Charon rubbed the point of impact with a wince.
"I was thinking."
"Then think faster."
He kept track of bruises by color. Purple ant new. Yellow ant old. Red ant he had ssed up badly.
His ribs were a painting.
Still, he stood a little straighter and held the scythe with a little more grace.
During one match in the Stadia, he disard a man in full armor using nothing but footwork and a sharp pivot. It was so fast that even the announcer sounded surprised.
Later that night, Erius brought out a new book. This one lacked a title.
"I think this was personal. A diary."
Charon frowned.
"Who writes a thousand-page diary?"
"Soone trying not to be forgotten."
They worked through the passages together, the archaic form of writing difficult to decipher. Erius was naturally better at it, although he credited that to the old books his father made him read.
The book held everything. Snippets of philosophy, vague descriptions of rituals and spells, even the dreams the author had, filled with burning trees and black suns. One entry ntioned a girl with silver eyes who could see the future.
’Gods, what was this realm like back then to give the Animancers such imaginations?’
Sotis the duo argued about various interpretations of events. Sotis they sat in silence. Sotis, they questioned what the point of studying this even was when the goal was to return to the Noctis Vrex.
The night before the mission, they decided to order food. It was from a fancy place Liam recomnded, with the claim that "It’s so good it’d make a rich man slobber like a dog!"
’With a review like that, how could we pass it up?’
Charon leaned back on his chair as he sipped the noodle broth, his eyes twinkling in delight at the flavorful liquid.
’I’ll find a way to repay Liam one of these days. I think my tongue just discovered what happiness is, or maybe I did. Perhaps both.’
Erius had only finished part of his, instead throwing himself at the diary. Of all the books they had read, that proved to be his favorite.
Charon didn’t begrudge him. If he was being honest, it was his favorite, too, as the author ntioned soul magic a few tis.
It was always vague and fleeting, as if he were breaking so sort of law to write it at all, but tidbits were slipped in.
The author seed to be progressing down an "archetype," sothing he rembered the High Elder ntioning.
’The warrior, which was about attacking, the healer which was about, well, healing, and the commander, which was about leading an army of souls. At the ti, I thought I was the commander, which still holds true.’
The author was clearly a warrior, alluding to how he had learned a new way to refine souls into a powerful beam of energy. Although it was of little use to him now, Charon appreciated the affirmation about his elent.
’I’m not the first one, which ans there will be more information out there. I can learn how to advance more.’
It was sothing he learned from Erius; information leading to advancent. In recent days, the blonde swordsman had beco increasingly upset at his lack of shadow instruction.
"I need my tos if I am to further my abilities. My father will be shocked at coming here, yet that will not absolve of neglecting my training. He will expect more from ."
Familiar with the concept of disappointing your superior, sothing he learned from the Mistress’ punishnts, Charon empathized with him and promised to see if they could find so around the city.
That would have to wait until after the mission, however, as it was almost too soon by the ti it was upon them.
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