Chapter 268 (1/2)

While whistling lightly, an old man stepped forward. The world around him blurred and shifted. He stepped, and again, the land beneath him shifted; where he was once on a forest path, he was now standing atop a mountain. The shift this time was more violent as well, the ground underneath him cracking as he finished the stepping motion, unable to bear the force of his step.

The whistling itself was tuneless, but wildlife nearby, and even monsters, felt a deep chill in their bones as they heard it, instinctively cowering in fear, putting their bodies closer to the ground. But luckily it was gone the next moment, and those who heard it straightened up in confusion, wondering if that strange, visceral reaction was just their imagination acting up.

But the old man continued to step, his hair and beard with not a strand of hair out of place or buffeted by wind. He was immaculate, a small smile on his face, a broken tune on his lips.

Step

Step.

Then the old man paused, this landing creating a clearing in what had once been a dense thicket of trees. The broken trunks weren’t just sent flying, but annihilated by his steps, such was the force with which he arrived at his location.

Through layers and layers of wrinkles, the old man’s eyes sharpened.

“Deardun…” The old man said with obvious disgust, his eyes making the distance between him and his target irrelevant. He always disliked coming up to the Northern Region. Not like some of his compatriots, who believed that the Styles up here were inferior. This was obviously not the case across the board, no matter how other elders might moan and groan about it.

The North had been unclaimed land for generations before some of the Central Region Styles moved to a less ordered place. The ones who had left were perhaps not the most well established, but they were able to come into the North and seize the law of the land. It was debatable whether any of the pampered Central Styles who acted so haughty could do something like that, now.

No, the reason he disliked this Region was a certain man lived here, one who the old man still held a twinge of fear for, although the old man was all but sure the other had died years ago.

But still, if this could be avoided, the old man would have done so. It brought him no pleasure to be up here. Aemont, the cause of all of this trouble, also hailed from the North.

After a few more steps, which brought him very close to Deardun proper, probably only a few miles away, the old man sighed, and lost something. His hair grew more ragged, his posture less straight, the domineering air around him disappeared.

Then he sighed again, and his stance changed from capable to feeble. Instead of the powerhouse that he was, the man appeared to just be an old man, a target for malicious attacks.

With his steps now severely reduced in effectiveness. Gerroark Char, current leader of the illustrious Endless Heat Style from the Central Region, walked slowly towards Deardun, each step barely covering a few feet.

That the original group he had sent to investigate lost moved his schedule up. The death of his nephew was annoying, and surprising, but the frustrating boy that had renewed the prestige of the Spear Phantom Style wasn’t the point, just a bit of spite on Gerroark’s part. The disciple wasn’t Gerroark’s goal… the master was.

Now that it had come to this… it was time for him to get personally involved. And find out the secret of Aemont once and for all.

****

I avoid the boy as much as possible. Both of them, really. Both of my sons… both of them have been through so much. But to my eyes… one of them is simply an enigma, while the other is a monster.

While I am on the front lines I can lose myself in the death, a pale reflection of the other world that Lucretia sent me to, but it is familiar, and if not comforting, all consuming. In those moments… my thoughts aren’t torn to bits by needless worry.

But letters come about them both. Haelthing, the fool, talks up Pronto’s potential, the speed at which he learns…. But of course he learns quickly. But of course he is exemplary. The mind inside that body… I wonder what rules it. What cravings, what urges.

Time and time again I’ve thought to warn Haelthing… but he would not listen. He believes in his own strength. He cannot know the weapon Pronto possesses.