"Why is it that you wield your blade?"
The words came in less than a whisper from the black-haired swordsman, his gaze focusing deeper than just Aaron's eyes, into his very soul.
Both men had moved to the zone reserved for the Marshals, the festivities around them drowning out their voices, effectively preventing any curious ears from eavesdropping on their conversation.
Alex Lispentine watched them out of the corner of his vision, his fingers swirling around the drink he held tightly.
The other Marshals seemed to pay no mind to the duo, with only Cam glancing over warily every so often.
The blond boy himself pursed his lips before responding to the man's earlier question, his mind plowing deep into thought.
Why I wield the blade…?
Inhaling heavily, he tightened his hands into fists and looked up at the pale swordsman without hesitation.
Then, he responded, his voice calm and his lips curling in an oddly satisfied, somewhat proud smile.
"To protect others."
In reaction to Aaron's words, Lord Kurogane sighed, his body relaxing against the bench they sat on, with his eyes turned up to the heavens.
"You lie."
There was no emotion or emphasis behind his words, only a plain and bare analysis of what he had heard.
Beside him, the blond boy furrowed his brow, slight anger filling his head as he tried to piece together what he had just been accused of.
"I didn't lie. The only reason I wield the blade is to protect those who can't do it themselves."
Trying to explain himself further, he was stopped by the man raising his finger in front of his lips in a universal motion for silence.
"Tell me. If you wield the blade to protect others, then why do you reek of blood?"
The boy's eyes widened as he looked down at himself and his hands, his expression paling.
In his mouth, he could almost taste the hot, liquid fluid of his first kill bubbling up in sorrow, the face of that cultist screaming at him from the afterlife.
No… That's not possible…
A gentle breeze blew through the city, playing lightly with the occasional strand of turquoise hair on his head while leaving his blond locks alone.
The swordsman continued his lecture, his eyes focused on the young challenger, without any malice behind them.
"When one has killed, their motive for wielding the blade cannot be judged as simply trying to protect others. You are no longer an innocent—you are a murderer. One who takes life instead of nourishing it."
As the man finished, Aaron hurried to defend himself, feeling quite bothered by the man's claims.
"That's not right. I've only killed those who needed to die. They were criminals who had assaulted, beaten, and even slaughtered those weaker than them without mercy! How is it murder if those whom I killed were endlessly vile and evil?"
The Marshal of the South only shook his head at the child's words, his eyelids closing as he turned towards the sky again, the moon casting rays of silver light over his expressionless face.
"Who deems them evil? Is it the law? Is it you or me? Could you even describe to me every crime or infraction that they had committed?"
He spoke in a soft hiss, his face contorted with anguish that Aaron was all too familiar with, yet still couldn't put it into words.
"Even those who are evil have done good. Who is the one to decide whether their actions are right and wrong? For if I asked every terror I hunted what crimes they had committed, they would have nothing to say. They have done no harm, yet I slaughter them and their children without respite. Why is that? Why do I do that? Is there a reason?"
There was a long pause as he breathed slowly, his hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of his magnificent blade.
Aaron's mind raced as he listened, fresh anger at the man's blatant lies and hostility making him snap internally.
No! That man… I watched as he detonated that building with absolute glee. How is he innocent or just after that!
Interrupting his thoughts, the man spoke again.
"So I'll ask you this one last time, Aaron Grimstall."
He pursed his lips as he turned his gaze away from the stars, his black eyes meeting the boy's own, sea-colored ones.
"Why is it that you wield your blade?"
For a moment, there was nothing.
Not a shout from the festival, not a firework in the distance, and not even the sound of conversation.
The boy's memory echoed as the feeling of his blade cutting through bone resurfaced, the gruesome satisfaction of ending a criminal's life having overwhelmed him.
But now, he could only reminisce, wondering if he truly made the right choice ending that man's life at that moment.
Every lie and falsehood he had placed upon his emotions to prevent him from thinking of himself as evil or wrong shattered at once, reminding him that he, a young child, was only human.
His hands trembled a little as he opened his mouth to inhale sharply, feeling like the word was spinning around him.
Then, however, that silence broke, his words coming out in a naked, bare truth.
"I wield the blade because it makes me strong enough to fight those I need to kill…"
Masaru Kurogane did not respond, his eyes narrowing and a short breath coming from his throat.
But as Aaron braced for whatever anger that would erupt from the Marshal, he felt a firm warmth course through his flesh.
The swordsman's hand now rested on his shoulder, a slight frown tugging at his lips as he patted downward twice.
"That is what makes a swordsman a swordsman, Aaron. One does not simply do something for others without reason. A true master of the blade isn't simply a wielder, but an extension of the weapon they carry. Your mind must be as sharp as your blade. Your soul must be as unbreakable as its iron. And your heart must be as fierce as your will for victory."
Releasing his hand from the large broadsword at his hip, he stretched out his arms while detaching his chestplate and greaves with practiced ease.
Beside him, the child could only watch as the Marshal seemed to seep into a tranquil state on the bench, his eyes never leaving the sky even as he spoke once more.
"We are the same in mind, body, and soul. There is a strange uniqueness about our blades that surpasses even the wildest of blacksmiths and a ferocity behind our actions that serves a greater purpose."
He paused, swallowing hard.
"You are not in a contract with a deity. Nor do you seek out the opportunity to be. You are mortal at heart and grounded by the will of the people around you. There is a brilliant light shining within the darkness that clouds the world around you, and it can only suppress the emotions that bind you forever."
Aaron could only listen as the man furthered his speech, the story he had so carefully crafted within his mind being unraveled by the swordsman as if he could see through everything.
"You are me, and I am you. We have different values but follow the same principles. For ten years, I have dirtied my hands without rest, ripping the lives away from those I have been ordered to kill. I never questioned the words of the higher-ups, and it led me to be an empty shell, devoid of any meaningful emotion. An assassin for hire without morals, a man without a guide who had lost himself."
There was a certain weight behind his words that the blond boy understood completely, the urge to simply stop and rest, the woes of the world crushing him down.
Each day, he awoke to the same thought: why had he been chosen? Why was it he who now had to carry the burden of a Ghostship?
However, he still steadied himself and got out of bed to fight for a cause he owed to the people around him.
This wasn't his dream, nor was it his desire.
It was a curse that no fifteen-year-old boy should have to bear alone, the might of the heavens crushing him at every turn of his gaze.
Whether he wished for freedom or death, the same people who claimed to be his allies or mentors would turn their backs on him.
The Old Man, a spiteful elder who hated the gods with every fiber of his being, was nowhere to be found, even his true motivations cleverly hidden behind the guise of mentorship.
Camilla Buckley, the person he knew the most about after his rebirth on the Ghostship, was simply his teacher, and he couldn't expect more.
She had her own life and her own goals, unknown to the child, and one day, far down the line, whether it be out of her own will or that of others, she would betray him in some way.
For that was how the world worked; there was no such thing as fairness, and Aaron Grimstall knew that well.
So as he sat alongside someone who had felt the same pains and burdens he had, he could, for once, truly and totally, unveil his truest self.
"But."
The swordsman's words entered the boy's ears like a soothing melody, and his attention was instantly gripped.
"Even without the person I could say was myself, I could still be happy. What is wrong with the order? What is wrong with being a dog for someone if you believe them to be better than yourself? That is how I thought for years, every single day, every single waking moment, without hesitation. If told, I would've launched myself from the heavens into hell for a scrap of appreciation."
For the first time, he smiled, his expression sad and dark as if the resurfacing memories were something painful.
"Until I picked up the blade, I was nothing. And even now, what has changed? Have I grown? Yes. Have I matured? Yes. But have I truly changed the way I live? No. I still follow orders like a dog. I still fight without mercy, killing those whom I am ordered to slay. However, the world sees me in a different light, and I see myself as changed."
Aaron's entire focus was drawn into the man's story, nothing slipping past his ears as he listened intently.
"There was this man, perhaps in his eighties, whom I spoke to when I was on the verge of leaving this pitiful world and entering the Great Beyond. He was a humble farmer in the Sea of Polar Storms who had endured the frightening cold for decades without even the slightest intention to leave. When I met him, he offered me a drink and a warm place to stay as I continued my trek across the icy continent. He showed me pictures of his children and his wife, his entire world opening up to me in that moment."
"I cared not for his stories, only thanking him for his kindness to welcome me into his home, where I could rest. When I bowed my head, I noticed a sad frown across his face, regardless of how thankful I appeared. I tried for the days I stayed to make him show me the same smile he had when he talked about his family; however, all I received were his warm words."
The Marshal opened his eyes as the stars cleared for a single moment, their wondrous light reflecting off his dark pupils.
"On the eve of my departure, I had prepared to end my own life on a frozen peak only a kilometer from his home. It was the place where I would meet my end and descend to hell with grace, accepting the punishmentI deserved for my sins. Yet, as I opened the door to the house for one final time, I saw that same farmer dead on the floor."
Aaron's eyes widened in shock, his mouth fell open, and his expression turned pale at the sharp turn of events.
The vision of the old man's body was replaced with Eleanor's in his mind, the realization that she was the same as him, a soul lost in the act of protecting another.
"He had taken his own life after learning of my intention to take my own. A selfish act that served no purpose. However, in that very moment, I collapsed to my knees and wept. I did not know why I did as such or why I had chosen that time for my emotions to break, but, in the end, I didn't end my life. The mere thought of the pointless sacrifice of the elder sent a shockwave of emotion through my heart."
There was a tight knot building in Aaron's chest, one that felt like a thousand terrors crushing him to his very core.
"It was unlike anything I had felt before, a wave of cascading brilliance overwhelming me and pushing the darkness back even for a time. There was nothing else that could be done after that. The only actions I could do to honor the man were lift him with my hands stained with years of blood and bring him out into the polar tundra."
"I buried him quietly beside the grave of his wife. The sound of the whistling wind howled as the eternal storms berated his small farm. Through the days I had spent there, I had never seen even a seedling appear from the soil, nor do I believe there had ever been one. However, as I rested him to the ground, I felt a presence wash over me."
"I turned around slowly, my eyes focusing on the clouded night sky that, for an instant, had been split open by a force unnatural to time. There, floating through the blizzard, the very sword I now wield appeared before me. Its voice called out to me, begging me to take it and get revenge for the people who had wasted my life. Yet I knew deep inside my heart that this was no longer my purpose. I denied its offer, instead choosing the path of peace, an actthat I believed would honor the legacy of the fallen man who had reaped his own life in exchange for mine."
Masaru Kurogane's lips curled into a peaceful smile, the end of his tale drawing near.
Aaron himself felt a weight lift from his shoulders, the gruesome path of revenge ahead of him towards the murder of the one man he had sought to kill more than the rest, fading away like a dream.
His hand relaxed on the hilt of his blade, his eyes clouding over with non-existent tears that clung to his eyelids.
"I had nothing after that day other than the will to continue on. My life was forever changed by a single encounter. That is what forged me into who I am today and who I wish to continue to be. You, Aaron Grimstall, have that same growing darkness growing within your heart. Now, I wish to offer you an opportunity I was never granted myself. I will give you a chance to uncover who you truly are. Therefore, I'll extend this offer to you and to you alone."
Turning his gaze away from the stars, he looked straight at Aaron with a smile, his formerly lifeless eyes sparkling like the heavens themselves as he presented the boy a lifeline in the raging sea of the world.
"Let me train you."
The sound of the festival rushed back in an instant, yet now it sounded distant and muffled.
All the young boy could see was the starlight reflecting in the Marshal's eyes and the path out of the dark, held out in a single offered hand.