DISCOURSE OVER THE BONFIRE

CHAPTER 42

[AT THE CLEARING...]

"Honestly, I shouldn't remember it."

Aerror stared into the flames of the small bonfire he had built. The wood crackled softly as the blue fire continued to burn between them.

"According to the established principles of Kairos, that entire sequence of events no longer exists. The deaths, the wounds, the moment itself — all of it should have been erased. Yet I remembered most of it. At first the recollection was vague, almost incomplete. Then the realization settled in. I had already lived that moment once before."

Evelyn remained silent for several seconds. Distant rumbling continued to echo across the ruined landscape as she finally spoke.

"If what you say about the Kairos user is true, then consider how many times he must have already undone specific events under the oversight of the Solarian government without anyone ever realizing it."

"Yes." Aerror's eyes grew colder as he continued staring into the fire. "That is precisely what makes him dangerous."

Evelyn slightly lifted her mask and examined the surface of the carved horned design.

"So what do you plan to do with the Kairos user? You are currently fighting him, are you not?"

"It is fairly obvious."

Aerror shifted his gaze from the bonfire to his left hand. Blue flames immediately ignited across his palm. He examined the fire with quiet interest, rotating his wrist slowly so that the light moved across his skin. Then he stretched the hand outward. The flames converged violently toward the center of his palm, compressing into a small sphere that spun rapidly and gave off an iridescent glow.

"Having access to a Kairos ability could prove extremely useful to me… and to a large extent, useful to the Order. Such a rare Art should not remain in the hands of an organization as limited as S.C.U.L.A.A.R.S."

The sphere of flame dispersed a moment later. Evelyn's expression remained one of clear disapproval.

"I agree on the value of the Art itself. However, more than half the city has already been destroyed by your recklessness. This is not how the Order operates. The ritual site risks being discovered if S.C.U.L.A.A.R.S. decides to dispatch additional ranked Behemoths to this location. The Master would not be pleased."

A brief silence followed. Aerror appeared mildly irritated at the mention of the Master. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped into something colder and deeper —something that no longer sounded entirely human.

"Let them come. They will learn that I am not one to be trifled with."

The inhuman quality faded from his voice as he continued more calmly.

"The Master will understand my reasons."

He gave her a sideways glance.

"And speaking of the Master… I heard he currently resides in this city. Why have we not met him yet? After all, he is the one directing this entire operation."

Evelyn's response was immediate and firm.

"Your only concern right now should be correcting the mess you have created. The details of his location will remain confidential until your next briefing."

She turned away from him, briefly adjusted the horned mask back into place, and began walking.

"Unless…" Aerror's voice stopped her mid-step. "…the Master is hiding from something. Or someone."

He continued watching her from the corner of his eye.

"I cannot help but wonder what would force someone who calls himself 'the Mortal Exalted by Gods' into hiding. Does he truly understand who the Six Gods of Calamity really were? They are the reason humanity was granted the Divine Arts in the first place. Even the Heavens failed to stop them."

His tone remained measured as he returned his attention to the fire.

"When I was first briefed on his plan to resurrect the Six Gods of Calamity, I assumed he had to be mad for even proposing it. It makes me wonder how he acquired the knowledge required to revive six individuals that history itself remembers as a threat even to the Heavens. Don't misunderstand me — I believe the Master has his methods. But as someone who comes from an era built on the perpetual wars they caused, I cannot help but express certain—"

"Do I sense insubordination, Lord Aerror of the Fallen?"

Evelyn's voice was sharp. She partially drew the Talisman of Annhul from its sheath while still facing away from him.

"Not at all. You misunderstood. I was only voicing a few concerns. Nothing more. Why so serious?"

Aerror kept his tone light while briefly glancing in her direction, waiting to see if she would react further. After a moment he looked back toward the fire. Evelyn slowly returned the blade to its sheath.

"I am afraid your concerns are misplaced. Even though the Master speaks highly of you and has forgiven many of your shortcomings in the past, I am not nearly as forgiving. Do well to remember that the next time you speak."

A violent rumble shook the ground beneath them. Evelyn continued walking.

"I believe you have business to attend to. The Master is counting on you. Do not let this ritual fail. That is an order, Lord Aerror of the Fallen."

Her body dispersed into drifting dust and ash that the night wind carried away. Aerror shifted his gaze from the bonfire toward the empty space she had occupied. His expression was cold.

"Understood… Lady of Aion."

Less than ten seconds passed after her departure.

A figure appeared behind him without warning and drove a fist toward the back of his neck with full force. Aerror detected the hostile presence the instant it materialized. His body flickered in and out of visible reality faster than the eye could follow, completely avoiding the strike. He reappeared above the incoming fist, twisted mid-air, and delivered a powerful kick directly to the attacker's face.

The impact snapped the air violently and sent the figure flying several meters away. The attacker showed no sign of serious injury. He simply stood, cracked his neck once, and observed the child with mild interest.

Aerror straightened and carefully examined the newcomer.

"Great. They sent another one." He muttered

"That kick packed a punch," the figure said, still adjusting his neck. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."

"And who might you be?" Aerror asked.

"You can call me the Plague. Behemoth of the Eighth. You might want to do something about that leg of yours."

Aerror looked down. The leg he had used for the kick was already deteriorating at an accelerated rate. He attempted to force his regenerative abilities to counteract the damage, but the deterioration progressed faster than his body could repair itself. Without hesitation he unsheathed his blade and severed the infected leg cleanly at the joint. The severed limb continued deteriorating on the ground while Aerror remained balanced on one leg, using the tip of his sword for support.

The Plague observed the entire process with quiet interest.

"I guess Sebastian wasn't lying when he said the kid was dangerous. Most people would have been reduced to dust within seconds."

He spoke with little enthusiasm as he settled into a combat stance.

"Hey, kid. I was sent here to kill you. I heard you're strong. How about we skip the formalities and you show me what you can actually do?"

Aerror analyzed the situation in silence.

"A Thanatros Art user. That earlier kick should have taken his head clean off, yet he brushed it aside as if it were nothing." He thought to himself.

He straightened his posture, regenerated the missing leg in a single fluid motion, and settled into a stable stance.

"So you're an Eighth-ranked Behemoth. Should I assume the mask you're wearing is meant to mark you as an embodiment of death?"

"I think I'm starting to like you, kid. You really get me."

"Is that so?" Aerror replied as the newly regenerated leg settled firmly against the ground.

The Plague continued.

"Too bad I will still have to kill you. I'll try to make it quick as a token of appreciation for this brief bonding moment."

"How flattering. But I'll have to say I'm quite difficult to kill." Aerror replied.

The Plague adjusted his stance further.

"That's where I come in. Before I kill you, though, I'd like to know your name."

"I thought you said no formalities."

"I'm allowed to make an exception this once."

"In that case, you can call me Aerror… Lord Aerror of the Fallen."

"It even comes with a title. This should be interesting." The Plague jokingly added

"Now that introductions are finished, shall we begin? I have other matters to attend to."

"Of course, kid. I wouldn't want to keep you waiting."

The brief conversation ended. Both combatants settled into ready stances as the small bonfire continued to burn between them. The fight between Lord Aerror of the Fallen and the Behemoth of the Eighth was about to begin.