Shadow of the Abyss

"Sir!" Laros squealed, cheeks flushed with rage.

"Enough! Or you'll face the whip!" The Master of Sword barked, his patice waning. "The rest of you, par up! There are an ev number of you."

Altair said nothing, but he did wonder. 'Why did the Master of Sword par him with an Awak? Surely he knows wh ones awak, their physical strgth dramatically changes.'

"What are you just standing there for?" Laros snapped, pointing his blade towards Altair, reluctantly finding a secluded area within the courtyard away from the others preparing to spar. "Hurry it up, commoner! Do not waste my time."

Altair strutted forward with a grace of a dancer, his lips tightly bound together. He said nothing. And found himself parallel with Laros.

"Well?" Laros said crudely. "Are you not going to set your form? Am I a joke to you, commoner?"

"You are," Altair answered, unamused, his gaze measuring every inch of latitude of his oppont. He saw the tsion building within the young Laros, the tighting of his right arm a his shortsword, and thought: He was about to charge. It ought to be a down slash.

Laros did.

Like a wild feral beast, he charged, his expression contorted by rage. Laros arrived in but a few breaths, covering a doz meters, separating them faster than any average human. He arched his sword towards the skies, cleaving it down as though he wielded a saber or ax, his aim directed for Altair's shoulder.

Altair reaction, however, was swift: He parried the blow with a downward angle, forcing Laros's sword to glide over his blade, hitting the g.

'How did he,' Laros swiftly wondered wh a ruthless fist whipped over his throat, crushing his larynx. He seized like a wet cat as a thunderous thud echoed, grabbing everyone's atttion. The young boy shuddered, dropped his weapon, and grabbed his throat. Siliva practically spilled from his mouth, slowly beginning to foam as he gagged.

'Help! Help!' Laros tried to say, staggering for help. But the words never sounded. Only ghoulish phrases could grasp.' I can't breathe! I can't! I—"

A clean sword strike struck against his temple, tearing away at his flesh. Blood, the color of wine, pooled over his tunic as a blinding daze washed over his vision, twisting the light within his eye. Foam and blood-drched the young Laros as he stood froz, bordering a state of unconsciousness.

Altair merely stared coldly, his indifferce practically frighting to the others watching with fear. He raised his wood blade and thought, 'I hate this place.' And cleaved his blade down over Laros's forehead, sding his mind into the arms of oblivion. And without a secular thought, he turned and made for the Master of Swords.

'Laros was a new Awaker, so the differce in physical prowess wasn't that big. But to take him down in three strokes is unbelievable." Veltos thought. "Ev if Laros didn't take the match seriously, to be so skilled at that age was an achievemt. I should report this to the Duke. We should have him spar more oft. I've never se him take another seriously before.'

"You may leave. Rest your body." The Master of Swords said, ssing the boy's exhaustion. "Your punishmt is over. Go to Meditation."

Altair nodded wordlessly and whirled to take his leave, shooting a side glance towards Laros's convulsing body and thought: I hope he's ok. His larynx should be brok, with two skull fractures. It'll take a few weeks to recover."

He left, sighing on his way out, feeling a differt type of exhaustion sink into his bones. He made his way home in no mood for Meditation. Not after a day like today. Not after what he'd done. Altair hadn't needed to humiliate Laros as he did, but... that was what the Aros family demanded.

Mercy didn't exist here. Altair made his way towards the western courtyards within the estate, far away from the main house, to a small rustic home within the forest resting beside a small stream.

A smile appeared for the first time. Finding the strgth, Altair raced ahead, pushing op the door to find his Mother, a woman whose beauty was said to make ev the celestial of old frown with jealousy.

"Altair!" Tebrae said with some surprise. "You're back. Is that blood on—"

His arms swallowed her, and a shutter passed through his being. Tears polled over the young woman, appearing barely over twty. Yet she smiled warmly, trailing her hands through his hair, and said nothing. Merely comforting her only son. She waited, allowing his cries to d before she spoke. "Did you kill someone?"

"No," Altair said, backing away as he wiped his tears away, a faint flash over his cheeks. He stared up at his Mother with beady eyes that sparkled, and Te squealed.

"OOOH, you are so cute! Give mommy kisses!" Snatching hold of her firstborn, Tebrae smothered the young Altair with hugs and kisses as he giggled, his cold heart tempered by the Aros family just melting in her arms. "I've missed you! Gods! How did I make such a cutie like you!"

A triumphant grin sprang to life over Altair. He nodded. " Of course! I'm Mama's baby!"

"Oh yes, you are!" Tebrae agreed, giving one last kiss to her son. She wiped away bits of tears over his cheek and nodded, placing him over the settee with her." Now tell me. What happed."

"I used the Grave of Night Sword Form today on some loser," Altair said softly. "He might die if no one helps him."

"But that's not what weighs on your heart." His Mother said, her tone still warm. "I've taught you to kill without feeling. So tell Mama what's got you all emotional."

The boy squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't like it here, Mom. Everyone is cruel. Everyone hates me. You trained me to see the truth, but all I see is hate. They curse me behind my back, Fatherless bastard.

They say. Mother of a Wh—"

"Altair," His Mother said. "Do such things bother you so much?"

"Well, of course!" he railed, bewildered why she'd ask such a thing.

Tebrae trailed her fingers through his hair, soothing the array of emotions she'd se in her son. "My child, I st you to this family to train you. Not in the way of the sword. God knows these people's skills are equivalt to those on the short bus. I st you here for you to understand. This cruelty, you see.

This is what life is about. This viciousness is everywhere."

"Eh?"

Altair stared blankly at his Mother, wishing nothing more than to dy her words.

"You've se what happs to Slaves. Do you think it's fair?" His Mother questioned, her voice carrying a sliver of ice. "Well?'

He shook his head.

"Neither do I." She whispered, shaking her head, cupping his tder features. Admiring his chubby cheeks, she never wanted to fade. She took him into her lap, allowing his head to rest over her breast as he looked up with large innoct eyes. "But that's how the world works. In our society, there exists a hierarchy. A cruel one.

But it governs the world."

"Ev on Gesis? Or other worlds in our galaxy?" he mindlessly asked.

"Ev there, Altair." His Mother whispered, holding him tightly. "But if staying in the Aros estate is too much. Mommy can—"

"No!" The boy shouted, wanting to jerk away. But his Mother held him firmly.

Tebrae soon frowned. "Do those worms scare you, son?"

'Worms?' He repeated inwardly.

"It has be a year since we came. No? And you've already se death." She closed her eyes. "Tell me will you allow such things to happ again? The death of a frid? What about me?

Will you watch as I'm beat alive?"

"They wouldn't dare!" Altair roared as a violet-black hue shimmered like flames off the surface of his eyes.

"Th become strong, my child, because it's only with strgth that you can defd those you love."