Hundreds of ters away from the battlefield, standing on a blackened cliff overlooking this area of the Ashen Expanse, a single figure watched it all—unmoving and unblinking.
It was Argon.
His black hair was tied loosely behind him, and his long coat fluttered in the breeze. His blood-red eyes reflected the battlefield with a cold, unreadable gaze.
The greatsword on his back vibrated faintly, a low hum echoing like an unsheathed warning.
The sword wanted out. It was hungry.
But as if scared of Argon, it dared not move without his permission.
Argon, however, hadn't moved.
Not when the corrupted boss beast tore through the formation. Not when it stabbed his son through the abdon.
Even when Raven fell face-first into the ash, bleeding, barely breathing—Argon had remained still.
Only when Damien's golden chain of light pierced the monster's core and the corrupted aura dissipated did the sword finally quiet.
But Argon's eyes suddenly narrowed.
Then ca the voice.
"You know... pretending you don't care doesn't actually make you any less obvious, kid."
Argon didn't turn. He didn't have to.
The voice was too familiar. Too aggravating.
"Still haven't changed, have you?" The voice continued in a light-hearted and teasing tone. "I could feel your damn worry from a mile away. It was honestly embarrassing. You used to be cool."
A figure stepped into view behind Argon, walking with a loose, exaggerated energy that made even birds hesitate to land near him.
It was an old man.
White and black hairs mixed in a chaotic storm across his head and beard. His robes were ancient, stained, and patched in places with cloth that didn't match.
Argon, however, didn't speak a word. He knew what it ant to engage in useless talk with the old man—a waste of ti.
"Not even gonna look at ? Your poor old master?" He said with a pout. "I taught you how to hold a sword. I taught you how to tie your shoes. Where's the greeting? Where's my bow?" He asked, frowning as he grumbled like a child.
Argon, hearing those words, glanced at the old man, his expression not shifting at all. "I'm the Patriarch now," he finally replied, his tone as frigid as the mountain air. "I don't bow to anyone."
"Oooh, Patriarch, he says!" The old man threw his hands in the air. "Look at you, all grown up, leading your clan with a stick up your ass. I'm so proud I could cry."
Argon asked without blinking, "Are you done?"
"No. Never. I've waited thirty years to be annoying again. I'm catching up," the old man grinned.
"Then make it quick."
Then the old man's smile faded—just a fraction.
"Still," He said, the joking tone slipping like a mask gently pulled off. "You know what it was, right?"
Argon's red eyes glead faintly. "Yes."
"Those beasts weren't supposed to be here."
"I know."
"If you know, then you must also know how big of a ss this could've beco, and what kind of consequences it would have had. We could've lost an entire generation."
"...I know."
The old man rubbed his beard. "It wasn't an accident. I'm sure you're aware."
"Whoever they were," Argon said coldly, "they didn't care about the lives of the children here. They wanted all of them dead."
"And your son—"
"Handled it," Argon cut in, though his eyes flicked montarily in the direction of the still-unconscious Raven.
"Barely," the old man mused. "He held that thing down with its claw in his gut. And still had the sense to blow the whistle. He's reckless. Too much like you."
Argon didn't say anything to that, and for a while, only silence remained before the old man's face grew serious for the first ti since arriving, his old eyes glittering with hidden depths. "You know who it was, don't you?"
Argon didn't answer imdiately. He stared down at Raven's still form, now being lifted onto a stretcher by the healers.
"...No."
The old man frowned. "Liar."
"..."
Argon didn't say anything. He couldn't because he did have an idea of who it was.
The old man, looking into Argon's red eyes, spoke with utmost seriousness, "He is a lizard, Argon. If you let him be for too long, he would cut his tail and run away."
His words made Argon pause, his expression quivering, but he didn't say anything.
He knew the old man had realized who it was.
But as the old man said, that guy was like a lizard. He could never catch him, not with the way the family worked.
If he wanted to do sothing about this, he had to change the family's working system, and for that, he needed more power.
For a long ti, neither spoke.
Finally, Argon broke the quiet. "Are you taking him in?"
That question ca suddenly, but Argon, who had known the old man for a long ti, knew that he wouldn't co out of his grave without a reason.
No matter how much of a fool the old man looked, Argon knew that his every move was calculated.
He knew why the old man had pointed out his mistake the first thing after he arrived.
It was to make it hard for him to say no to whatever the old man would ask next.
The old man blinked, surprised. "Look at you. Little Argon, the emotionless murder machine, predicted my moves. I might cry." He pretended to wipe away nonexistent tears, sniffling obnoxiously. "You've grown, my boy."
"I asked you a question."
The old man snorted. "Yeah. I'll take him."
Argon said nothing.
The old master studied him a mont longer, then asked, quieter this ti, "Not going to say anything?"
"Would it change anything?"
"No."
"Then I won't waste my ti."
"Cold bastard."
Argon turned for the first ti, just slightly, locking eyes with the old man.
"I'm sure you already know this, but giving him too much light won't benefit him."
The old man sighed and straightened up. For once, his posture matched the strength buried beneath his eccentricity.
"I don't care what trouble it brings," he said, pride dripping from every word. "All I care about is whether that child's body... can succeed where you and your father failed."
Argon's gaze darkened, his jaws clenching.
'I haven't failed yet,' he said inwardly, not wanting to argue.
Then, with a shift of mana and a single leap, he vanished into the sky like a shooting star.
The old man stood alone now, the wind teasing the ends of his robe.
He looked toward where Argon had disappeared and, just for a second, the sly amusent left his face.
He sighed.
It wasn't the loud, comical sigh he usually gave. It was quieter. Heavier.
A rare expression of pity crossed his worn face.
"You're still going down the sa path, kid..." He muttered.
Then, even more softly, like a whisper not ant to escape:
"It'll hurt more if it happens again."
With that, he fell silent like the battlefield below before his eyes landed on Raven, and his lips stretched into a wide grin.
The heaviness in the air disappeared like it had never been there before.
He chuckled. "Oh, how good it would be to 'train' soone again... I wonder what kind of sounds he would make."
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