"For the first three days of your training, for six hours at a time, you will head into the Vortex of Despair and sit within the storm alone. You will have no safeguards. You will have no protection. You will have nothing. Once these preliminary days are complete, you will receive your next instructions."
That was everything that the paper stated, with nothing more hidden anywhere on the crumpled notebook parchment.
Eleanor stared at it for a moment before rereading it twice, not sure if this was meant to be some sort of cruel joke.
I-I have to sit in the middle of an endless storm that blocks all types of mana… And he expects me to do this for eighteen hours total!?
The sheer insanity of what he was asking her to do was already enough for her to question his mental state; however, now that she was deaf, she wouldn't even be able to hear anything within that frozen wasteland.
While the possibility of healing her own eardrums wasn't completely ruled out, she suspected that Masaru intended for her to undertake the training without it.
He would've just had me heal myself earlier instead of writing all of that… Plus, wouldn't healing exhaust the slight bits of divinity I have left?
Debating the issue internally, she eventually concluded that she would remain in her soundless state, embracing the feeling of tranquility from the howling winds of the storm.
Regardless of whether he intends to kill me during this training or not, I still have something I need to do first.
Glancing over to the notebook that he had left in the chair, she decided that it was finally time to once again say hello to her mentors in the land that existed after death.
Of course, direct communication was impossible; however, through a third party, such as Osiris—the pet of Death himself and also a being able to traverse the World Between through the connection of Vaelmyr Droskyn—letters could still be transferred.
Well then… Between my arrival here on the Southern Continent and what we saw on Strava, I think there'll be plenty for them to read.
Frowning as she recalled the anomaly of Aaron's homeland, she sat up in her bed and grabbed the pen and paper.
Deciding inwardly that she would begin her training at noon, she had one hour to send her response and prepare for the treacherous storm chasing.
Maybe I'll bring an umbrella…
…
Ocean's Bane was nowhere to be seen as Aaron Grimstall held a regular sword made from steel within his hand.
The weight was incomparable to the ancient blade he normally carried; Penelope's ability to weigh almost nothing while still packing enough force to split terrors in two was now gone, granting him newfound respect for the weapon.
His training was on the verge of beginning, the only bottleneck being the time on the pocketwatch he had been given.
Thirty seconds.
That was the amount of time until his lesson in the sword would begin.
His training, though, was something that he hadn't predicted.
After returning to the cabin and checking on Eleanor once she awoke, Masaru sent the boy and Rudiger into the wasteland for a battle.
Aaron's goal?
If he could cut one of the beast's legs off before it could land a strike, he would be done with the first part of his training.
While cutting off only a leg of a mid-level terror was difficult for most, for the boy, it should've been simple.
Yet for too long had he relied on his gifts.
Whether it be Penelope's insane strength, though only when she was awake, the Ghostship's aid to his strength, agility, and regeneration, or even the abilities he had gained from devouring countless terrors, such as the zombified version of Aurora Thorn or the Tarasque, the boy often used cheats to his advantage.
Masaru had seen this during their duel and found it quite problematic; therefore, using the Vortex of Despair that churned overhead, Aaron would primarily train without any connection to mana.
Click.
As the seconds counted down until the start of the training, he could only widen his stance while staring down the creature in front of him.
He wasn't nervous for the fight: having fought against reality-bending Apexes, one mid-level terror was nothing to be worried about.
What truly brought a strain upon his mind was rather the response to his earlier question pertaining to the forging of a sword.
I would've expected the greatest swordsman in the world to understand a little more of the process…
Referring to the answer given by the man, the boy sighed, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of the pocketwatch.
While he hadn't expected Masaru to be a blacksmith himself, he had still assumed that someone so well-versed in the sword would understand how they were forged.
Yet, even with that in mind, Aaron had been left flummoxed by the blatant confusion and honest embarrassment that the black-haired man had shown.
Click. Click. Click.
The final few seconds left on the clock began to fade.
I was planning to do it regardless of what he said, but now…
The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up, almost warning him of a threat that hadn't yet become active.
Hmm?
In his pocket, he felt the time finally come to a halt.
Before he could blink, Rudiger's leg was only centimeters away from his face.
"Dammit!"
Dodging as the strike nearly grazed his face, he raised his arm and cut behind him with all his strength.
Unfortunately for him, with a normal steel blade, there was no miraculous ability to manipulate the liquids around him, causing him to quickly lose balance.
Trying to catch himself with his other arm, the lack of such a limb sent him into the snow, where he rolled over and hurriedly launched back onto his feet.
This sword isn't even the right weight!
His finger twitched towards the ring glowing dimly on his hand before he forced it back around the unfamiliar hilt of the new weapon.
Now realizing why Masaru had sighed when he had chosen this blade, he could only use his enhanced leg to prevent his torso from being pierced by Rudiger.
All hope the boy had in cutting the leg off on the first attempt had vanished, and a grimace quickly appeared on his face.
His first taste of training with the swordsman had finally begun, and without even a mere minute passing, he could already see a painful future laid out before him.
…
"You shouldn't sleep so sloppily."
Orion Cosmoti chuckled as he addressed the slumbering man at the edge of his cell, the darkness of the morning still basking the city of Svall.
"Ugh… Do you mind…"
The silver-haired disgraced nobleman could only throw a wad of paper at the former Sea King as he turned over on his side, clearly devoid of any intention to wake up.
Within the cell, the prisoner could only sigh and whisper something under his breath that went unheard by his guard.
"Your loss…"
Still shaking his head, he slowly rose from the center of his lodging and stretched out until his old bones felt relief.
Then, without any care for his decorum, he picked up one of the pieces of paper that Stein Brevmore had thrown at him and tossed it at the sleeping man.
Luckily for the man who was slacking off in his duties, it missed completely, tumbling into a large pit that surrounded the cell.
"Ha… Without you're luck your truly—"
He was cut off by another voice, one not belonging to either Cosmoti or himself.
"Brevmore. Why is it that you slumber in my presence?"
The noble's eyes shot open, and his body moved before his mind could even process why.
A crushing pressure descended upon the room faster than he could wish to catch his breath, causing him to nearly collapse to the floor.
From the shadows themselves, the figure of Azaroth Pane came into view; the sight of his horns, jet-black hair, and pale white skin was enough to notify anyone of his visit.
Stein could only smirk and throw a crazed glance at Cosmoti, who was utterly silent.
"You knew the bastard was coming and let me sleep…"
Somehow, instead of annoyance, the psychopath could finally see something worthwhile within the former Sea King.
That, of course, wasn't important at the moment, as his boss and the incarnation of the Devil of Greed itself looked at him with disgust.
"I'll look past this abysmal show of respect once, Brevmore. However, if you wish to keep your place in my new world, I think it is wise that you change your tone."
Scolding one of his elite killing machines as one would treat a slave, the horned devil soon turned his attention towards the cage.
"Dear friend, how have we been?"
Without even a flicker of emotion behind his words, he spread his arms out wide as if expecting a hug.
Cosmoti remained quiet, though, only acknowledging the man's presence with his eyes.
"I didn't expect a warm welcome, but what can we do…"
Clicking his tongue with disappointment, he slowly turned his focus down towards his hand, where a tiny black flame burned with fury.
Taking his other hand and clasping it over the one with the fire, he pressed them together as if to compress it.
Throughout the chamber, a hiss reverberated with such volume that one's ears would've bled without protective measures.
The silver-haired man twitched while the Prophet of Luck said nothing, still merely observing.
Overhead, the small grate that allowed a trickle of sunlight to flow in began to close itself off, hiding the beauty of the sky from the man sealed within.
"You know what I am hunting, do you not?"
This time, instead of Azaroth simply being the conduit through which the Devil spoke, it was the true host of the body communicating.
Regardless of the change, Cosmoti did not adjust his attitude.
"If you do, then you know that if you were to merely accept my proposal, then your imprisonment would be needless."
Once more, there was a long silence that followed his words; all that could be heard outside of the man's own voice was Stein's breath.
"Why remain so stubborn? You know that we will find it before the date of Abyssal Convergence, and you know what we will do when we find it. There is no benefit to you for withholding the knowledge that we will soon come to know. If it's simply a matter of morals, then I assure you, you should be selfish for once and understand that this is better not just for us, but for you as well."
Still near where he had been sleeping, Stein could only furrow his brow in confusion, unsure what his employer was asking for.
There was no telling what deals might have been offered before he took this job, and he certainly couldn't understand why Cosmoti would deny it if it would grant him freedom.
"This is your last opportunity to be of use to me. The Great Devourer has foreseen his awakening as a certainty, and no force within these seas could stop him any longer. Joining us would—"
For the first time in dozens of visits, hundreds of conversations, and thousands of hours, Orion Cosmoti spoke up.
"I'll do it."
Azaroth frowned, tilting his head to the side in confusion.
Clearly, he hadn't expected such a result, even after his repeated persuasion backed by the facts that he believed so deeply in.
The silver-haired man couldn't believe his ears either, the sudden change in attitude making no sense when compared to what he had told him over his days as his steward.
Cosmoti could break out whenever he wanted, and he would only move when luck willed him to do so, and yet, now he willingly accepted to work with the enemy.
What could it have meant?
Questions whirled through Stein's head faster than he could think while a smile crept along his face.
Whatever the green-haired bastard was thinking, he would love to see where it was going.
"You mean that you'll—"
The leader of the Seven Head Order spoke up once more, a strange sense of unsteadiness behind his words.
"Yes. I will guide you to the final seal that I found within that Archipelago and grant your god freedom upon this world."