"It is your loss."
There was a flash of red behind Aaron's vision on the second day of his training.
"It is your loss."
His torso was bruised black, and his hand was burning with the feeling of frostbite.
"It is your loss."
The sword he held in his hand shattered into sharp shards that embedded themselves deep within his flesh.
"It is your loss."
Each time, regardless of how much effort the boy placed against his opponent, he lost again and again.
The first battle blurred into two, then three, and four, five, six, seven, eight.
It was an endless amount, with every loss draining his will to fight to the absolute minimum.
There was no instruction from the spectating man, only an occasional sigh followed by the same four words.
"It is your loss."
Bile bit at the back of Aaron's throat as he stood with a limp, his forehead bloodied and his hand trembling.
He continued to stand, though, his hand occupied by the shattered hilt of his sword and covered in crimson liquid that fell into the white snow.
The magnitude six sea terror, Rudiger, was a foe that moved faster than his eyes could track, while his flesh was more durable than rock.
Without mana or Ocean's Bane by his side, though, he was utterly incapable of cutting through anything but flesh.
It was not he who defined the sword, but the sword who defined him.
I'm pathetic without Penelope's aid…
His cheek twitched, and his lips curled inward, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his jaw.
Once again, he counted down the seconds until the next sparring match while his opponent did the same.
When the spectating Marshal tapped his foot twice, they both bolted at one another at their top speed.
Aaron's first strike was aimed low at the chink in the creature's leg armor while it prioritized his head, attempting a clean knockout.
Such a thing would end the session; lesser hits merely costing Aaron the round.
Both attacks struck their mark simultaneously, resulting in a disastrous clash.
The remains of the steel sword attempted to tear through the bone marrow that dozens of previous strikes had already exposed, yet it would not be that simple.
Its bright green eye bore straight through the boy's figure and onto the exact location as to where it had struck.
With a last-second shift of his posture, Aaron had dodged a devastating impact to his skull, but he could not quite negate it altogether.
Blood spurted from his shoulder where a barbed leg had broken through the top layer of skin.
Before Masaru could even call it a loss, there was a sound that echoed throughout the battlefield.
Crk!
The remaining piece of the blade that Aaron gripped exploded into shrapnel that shot out in every direction.
Rudiger flinched back, retracting his leg and causing the exposed wound on the boy's body to spurt blood.
The blond-haired boy who held the weapon could not react in time, leaving most of the metal to tear through him.
His hand was a mangled wreck with exposed bone poking through in numerous places, while puncture marks that oozed with crimson began to seep through his clothing.
Slowly, he took a step back, stumbling as he did so but remaining standing.
His head was woozy as he raised his right hand towards his face to look at the strange source of pain.
Shock clouded his emotional response as he gazed at the destroyed limb, a frown coming across his face soon after.
"Heh… The ring is bloodied… I can do another though… I'll just need a new sword…"
Swaying where he stood, he began muttering the seconds under his breath until the next round would begin.
In front of him, Rudiger simply stared blankly, almost questioning the child who was losing enough blood to kill him within the hour.
Before the boy's internal clock reached zero and he leaped at the creature again, Masaru's hand found his uninjured shoulder, bracing him from his own legs failing him at that moment.
"Grimstall. That's enough."
The turquoise-eyed boy turned his head with a confused expression, a trail of blood seeping into his left eye.
"Now? But why would we end so soon?"
His speech was surprisingly clear and concise, as if he were in perfect condition.
"We will end now because you are dying and in shock. Once we return to the cabin, we can bandage it until tomorrow when your regeneration will—"
He was cut off as Aaron moved his ruined hand up towards his face and tapped his pointer finger against his nose.
The only thing upon it was a sapphire ring that exuded a pressure that the swordsman had never quite understood.
However, after one mere tap of the gemstone, he understood the meaning behind its existence.
The boy, half-conscious and already in shock, had done the only thing that he could still do with his body.
Summon his Ghostship.
Matter split apart and then reformed around a bright core that shone like the sea itself.
Wood materialized from thin air while a crushing feeling of a watchful gaze once again pushed itself against the black-haired man.
Removing his blade from its sheath and synchronizing with the force, he himself made peace with the being.
On the other hand, Rudiger seemed to be on the verge of bolting away in terror at the aura of the vessel.
Such a thing only made sense: a monster fearful of its only natural predator now face to face with that unstoppable force.
"Unsummon—"
Masaru's voice was once again broken up by the sound overhead, a deafening groan and a heavy gong silencing even the howling winds.
The ground forged from the flesh of a Great One trembled and spasmed at the encounter of the mysterious ship.
Aaron's action had inadvertently caused a chain reaction throughout the frozen tundra, one that, while isolated, would certainly cause unimaginable damage.
This was no prophecy given by fate to the exiled Marshal, merely his knowledge of what would soon happen.
Only two options now stood before him if he wished to guarantee both Rudiger's and the boy's survival.
Either obliterate the vessel with a slash of his sword, possibly fracturing its mana core and creating an explosion with enough potency to level the entire sea, or force the boy into submission and cease his summoning.
The latter was the only logical answer, and he did not hesitate to act upon it, lest the former become the horrifying reality.
Tightening his grip on Arcturus Centuria, he closed his eyes and took a breath.
What he was to do was at the limits of what he considered safe, and even still, there was the possibility of damage that would last forever occurring.
Therefore, his concentration did not falter for even a moment as he raised both arms into the air, each grasping the hilt carefully.
Then, as he exhaled, he brought the weapon down, creating a devastating attack that cut through anything it touched.
Snow was parted, and the wind was halted.
Scales shattered while the Vortex of Despair temporarily retreated.
And finally, blood shot out, and a hand fell to the floor only to be quickly submerged in frost.
Aaron instantly collapsed, and the floating Ghostship evaporated before it could materialize completely.
Sparks crackled along the tundra as it returned to a state of nonexistence, the only remnant of it being the floating turquoise light that was its core.
For ten seconds, it stood still, watching, waiting, analysing.
Then, as it disappeared without a trace, Masaru felt something within him shatter, and the paths to reconnect it fray alongside it.
That thing was nothing insignificant, but rather, the connection to the rhythm that governed Aaron Grimstall's mind.
No longer could he hide himself from the gazes that lurked behind him.
He was vulnerable, and such a feeling brought him a newfound sense of concern.
If he had known such a power was sleeping within the ring, he would've had the boy remove it for safekeeping, allowing this situation to never transpire.
Yet, as he stared down at the child who lacked both hands and was bleeding profusely from multiple regions, he could only somehow chuckle.
It was an illogical response to seeing the state of the boy; however, with what he observed, it was the only thing he could muster.
"You still find ways to surprise me, boy."
He was unconscious, yes, but regardless of such a thing, under his breath, in a tone that none could hear and could only be seen, he counted the time until the next round.
"Your conviction is beyond anything I've seen before. While your physical prowess might be underwhelming, your mind is perhaps the strongest I've seen. And yet, that resolve is the thing that will get you killed unless you learn when to throw in the towel."
Kneeling and placing his hands beneath the boy's body to lift him, Masaru Kurogane sighed once more.
"The tribulations you must've faced to overcome such a defeat with a smile and the motivation to continue could only have been horrific. If even a mangled hand left you resolute, what else have you seen?"
There was nothing impressive about his acknowledgement.
It was a fact.
One that would garner an answer so awful that no human should ever need to experience it, much less at the young age of fifteen.
Aaron Grimstall was the exception, and such a truth ached the heart of the swordsman more than any despair could ever hope to accomplish.