"The Midnight Consortium is here," his voice echoed through the vast room. "And I believe the student of the Golden Hero can be of great assistance to our cause."
Damien felt a chill run down his spine at the mention of his master.
He looked at the knights who were still looking down. 'How the hell does he know that?' His mind raced in anticipation, as to what would the wise and kind master was going to do with that information.
"You might be thinking how I know about that man?" The old man chuckled, caressing his long silver beard.
"That is correct, GrandMaster," There was no need to lie to the man. He could see through deception just like his master, but that old man didn't ask about his past. Something told him, Hero Aryan knows about his truth. Does this man know it too?
"Arcos, bring it here," The old man said and the head knight, Arcos, strode towards an old wooden cupboard, ancient like the man sitting at the far end. The knight opened the double door and pulled out a cloth-bound object, by the looks it seems it was a sword. He put it meticulously on the tabletop and walked back to his position.
Seeing Damien's anticipation, the old man beckoned him to come closer. "Take a look, this might be yours,"
'Ah!' Damien's eyes sparkled as he understood how the old man knows his master. He strode forward and stared at the cloth-bound object for a few moments, lost in thought. Finally, he tore the cloth from the blade, revealing a majestic and beautiful sword. A black sword. His sword. Monke. The one he left on the Seven Steps Mountains, it's here and that means his master must have felt he needed it here for some reason.
He traced his fingers along the sharpness of the sword. He fought a damn monkey to obtain this and that too with a prosthetic arm. He still feels shame for bullying the poor treehopper.
"How do you know he is my master?" He looked over at the old man, his eyes were dark and dry but they held a certain calmness and kindness. Something that can only achieve with truth and happiness. He must have led a peaceful and happy life.
·?θm "That sword," he started, old and weary like a grandmother starting to tell her old story. "I once had wielded it."
'The fuck now?!' Damien's eyes widened in surprise at the old man's revelation. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You... you were once its wielder?" Damien stammered, struggling to process the unexpected connection between the GrandMaster and his beloved master. "But how...?" 'I mean this was literally wielded by a monkey, how did you lose it to a monkey?' He wanted to say that words aloud but something told him to do so and it was proven a correct choice.
The GrandMaster's face softened, his gaze distant as if he was reminiscing about a bygone era. "Ah, it was a different time," he spoke with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Long before I ascended to this position, I was a warrior, much like you and your master. Together, we faced great challenges and fought side by side."
He paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. "Much like you, I earned this sword from your master. Our master." The words fell heavy on Damien. 'This guy was also that old pervert's student? Just how old is he? And what is this thing about earning the sword? Did he also fight the monkey to earn this? Just how old is that monkey?'
"Yeah, like you, I had to defeat him too. It wasn't easy, was it?" The old man continued.
'Old bastard has no shame, gloating on his days bullying a literal monkey.' "Of course, GrandMaster, maybe because he has grown old, it was fairly easy for me. I defeated him in a single combat. Nasty techniques, he had but I prevailed."
The old man raised an eyebrow, sporting the young noble in a new spotlight. "Old or young, he's still dangerous, and seeing how you say you easily defeat him, that means you are extremely capable. It took me countless days and all my training to even drew a drop of blood from him. That's how skilled he was."
'Draw blood? He must have severely injured the poor monkey!' Damien was not getting fond of this old man but he persisted. "I didn't have any training when I met him. I also had lost an arm and had to build a prosthetic with magic, but I managed to defeat him fairly easily and earned this mighty sword here."
The old man speechless, 'Such monstrosity!' He never had seen a man with more potential than the boy in front of him. He had checked the man's heart and not a lie he had told him in the brief moment of exchange that means he had defeated his master without any training. The old man was too stunned. 'This kid?' He wildly stroked his beard, gazing at the man, caressing the sword.
Finally, breaking the silence, the GrandMaster spoke, his voice filled with a mix of admiration and intrigue. "You truly are exceptional, Damien," he said, his words carrying a weight of sincerity. "To defeat him, even without proper training and with a prosthetic arm... It speaks volumes about your innate talent and determination. and that also sheds light on why he himself delivers this sword here for you."
"Oh? He came here? From the mountains?" Damien was again stunned. "I thought that old pervert never leaves his high ground," he mused himself.
"Yes, that means it must be of utmost importance that you have your sword by your side. He must have saw something." the old man dismissed the insult as he knew it was true after all.
"Must not be him," Damien said, stroking his chin, since he doesn't have a beard. "Must be the old crone."
"Old crone? You must not mean...her, are you?" The old man was again stunned.
"If you mean the old seer, yes I mean her. She taught me magic. Though she's not good as him when it comes to teaching, she had her moments." He mused again, thinking about all the gorydamn training he had.
The old man was too stunned to speak, as his jaw dropped. Two of the greatest heroes have taught this kid and who else is the next Golden hero other than the kid in front of him?
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