"You wook…"
Eleanor frowned and spoke poorly as she stared at the battered and bruised form of Aaron Grimstall, who, regardless of his combat prowess, had been beaten to a pulp by Rudiger.
He showcased not an ounce of enthusiasm nor appreciation for the day's efforts, only a long sigh followed by the removal of his blizzard attire.
Once finished, he looked over at the girl again while pursing his lips and speaking slow enough that she could read his lips.
"Your expression tells me your training was as pleasant as mine, I would assume."
The blonde-haired priestess flinched and tried to break the eye contact that the boy was subjecting her to.
It wasn't as if she was embarrassed by the admission that six hours of her day had been wasted sitting in snow, merely pondering over her woes, but rather, the fact that Aaron had been the central piece in those daydreams.
He mustn't know… That would be soul-crushing…
Clenching her fist so that her nails dug into her pale skin, Eleanor began to open her mouth, but was quickly stopped by a vibration through the floorboards beneath her feet.
Turning her head to the side, she noticed their mentor, Masaru Kurogane, carefully studying their conditions.
Neither of the teens said a word until the man finally nodded and spoke aloud while tossing a small piece of paper at Eleanor, which she promptly read.
"Come now. Rudiger has crafted a delicacy."
With the simple request, he spun around and walked around the corner, leaving the two alone once more.
Aaron, disregarding the soreness that covered nearly every part of his body, sighed and covered his face with his hand.
"Perhaps swimming with spiders would be better than this…"
Catching his comment, but not understanding its meaning, Eleanor shook her head and strolled straight behind the owner of the house, not wishing to be late to the meal he had curated.
…
The Mark of Chains attached itself from birth to the foreheads of any born within its waves without care for their own morals.
No matter whether a person was peaceful, graceful, or delicate, they would face the maddening effects all the same.
Intense bursts of unstoppable rage that would result in actions beyond what the bearer wished were far too common, while their enhanced strength led to even more widespread disaster wherever they went.
With few exceptions, those with the Mark of Chains would inhabit a single island where rogues, murderers, assassins, pirates, and any other scum were welcomed as if they were the average citizen.
It was a place overrun with overpopulation and crime, riddled with murder and rape, and the land where human rights went to die.
Merchants unaffiliated with the Three Great Merchantries would be pillaged without hesitation, and their wives, children, or crew were sold in the black market for mere circuits.
This was a land without any law, the Pirate Capital of the World, Svall.
Yet, in the darkest depths of the hopeless island, a blight that drained the nation dry of everything it once was only grew larger with each passing day.
An organization that had been brought to its knees six years prior in the war that would redefine human civilization now found new sprouts that, in time, would transform into the largest of trees.
And standing at the head of that serpent of destruction, Azaroth Pane, the Sovereign of Chains, dominated with an iron fist.
His name, the name of a monster who had made a contract with a Devil itself, was unspoken by all, not out of respect, but rather fear.
On November 38th of the 3125th year of the celestial calendar, however, whispers of his actions sparked discussion throughout the land.
That man now strolled through the densest street of the city, his eyes focused ahead and his form shrouded in an aura of darkness.
Any who looked into that abyss for longer than a moment succumbed to madness, shrieking in agony and collapsing into a puddle of their own feces and urine.
Behind him trailed the newest of his underlings, one whose name had already spread far and wide throughout the gambling houses of Svall.
Stein Brevmore, with his head held high and a smirk plastered across his face.
He was a psychopath, a sociopath, and everything in between.
That, of course, was nothing new to the inhabitants of the island, though, and he was welcomed with open arms, barring the casino owners who had already lost tens of thousands with his visits.
What truly stirred the attention of the citizens was the figure clad in a black hood following behind the two known members of the Seven Head Order.
His stature was immense, and the feeling radiating from even his presence seemed to be the direct opposite of the Devil leading the group.
If not for the cloth covering his face, many onlookers could've sworn that he was an Angel sent from the Great Beyond to free them from the anarchy of their island.
Alas, their wish was not granted by the man who trailed behind.
Orion Cosmoti, the former Sea King, was bound in chains invisible to the human eye and restricted from speech by a seal.
None of the precautions mattered, however, as he would've made no effort to flee even if he was ordered to.
This was how his fate was ordained by the stars to continue, and it would be how it would end.
The destiny that he followed was simply the luck of the draw, each decision calculated by nothing more than a gamble.
His actions, words, and choices were not those of the King of Curses, Prophet of Luck, and Fifth King of the Sea, Lord Cosmoti.
Rather, he had reverted to the Marshal of Fate, whom he had long since discarded under the authority of the Pantheon of Luck.
During his tenure with the Hunters' Guild, everything he had done was purely the will of the heavens.
Perhaps that was why he had been chosen by that Ghostship that day, and perhaps that could've been why he had been the one to discover the source of eternal curses within that archipelago.
Now, he would face the music and stand amongst those who sought to destroy the world he cherished.
My own humiliation in front of thousands is to Pane's gain, though; he fails to see the clearest picture ahead of him.
The green-haired man's lips pressed together tightly while he sensed his surroundings with the natural mana that had accumulated within his core.
Gone was the Divine Interference granted by his gods, and while it left him in a state of weakness, that was only temporary; he had once been great, and he would be great again, no matter the cost.
If Cauron has received the letter that I gave to Alicia, then he will already have begun preparations to stop Lispentine's plan. Furthermore, in a perfect world, the ritual he had been planning to concoct in the aftermath of the Hunters' Tournament would have been ceased as well.
There was no telling what had happened during his imprisonment below the city, and if the man labeled as the smartest throughout history still labored away on his side projects, there was no telling what would occur in the future.
Determined to dwell on a future in which his wishes had been accomplished, Cosmoti rerouted his attention back to what lay immediately behind.
Volunteering to become the guide of that man and his lackeys was, regardless of what fate said, a wise choice.
Azaroth had told no lie when he had stated that eventually, they would find the final seal and unleash it.
However, whether an outside force could intervene in time to stop such a disaster was yet to be determined.
His plan had been set in motion the moment he had expended the remainder of his Divine Interference to release those emerald luck bringers into the world.
One had been sent to each sea, barring the Abyss, of course, with the sole intent of a high-ranking member of the Oceanic Association finding it.
In the best-case scenario, one of his friends, such as Rowan Keyes, the King of Songs, or Lepaie Quinn, the King of Dreams, would locate one of his luck bringers and understand its meaning instantly.
If the Great Sea Commander, Clint Hunch of the Association Guard, or one of his regional guardsmen were to find it, the chance of them notifying a King was still likely.
And even in a situation where a state steward would find it, there would still be hope in the anomaly drawing the attention of powerful figures.
The only flaw in his plan was the gamble that it would be someone apart from the Oceanic Association who would find his hint.
If Alex Lispentine were to learn that he was still alive, Cosmoti was certain that his plans for the future of the world would only be expedited before he could regain his position to stop them.
That, of course, was the worst possible scenario, with even the situation in which his luck bringers were ignored being far less damaging than that man learning of his survival.
Perhaps my luck might finally give out this time without the blessing of the Pantheon by my side. What a shame that would be…
Smiling beneath the cloth covering, he reviewed the second stage of his plan carefully within his head.
Agreeing to Azaroth's demand was merely the catalyst for what would soon come next; the inevitable future lined up perfectly.
The only variable that could set it off was one he was totally and completely unaware of.
Yet in his mind, there wasn't any possibility of a new party entering the race to the end of the world; the strength and gifts required were only accessible to those with a Ghostship or might on par with the wielders.
And to him, no such existence was left in the shadows.
Not one at all.