This foursome before him was amongst the most frightening Kieran had ever encountered. Though there were matchless figures like Agrianos, Hekaina, and more, none of them had ever unleashed a force as fearsome as what he just faced.
His current opinion came from the feeling of formidable pressure alone, so his perception of power was skewed. Those he named in his mind existed at a station of power so lofty their true might was unfathomable and imperceptible to his eye.
Now free from the restraint of that ungodly pressure, Kieran regarded these four — primarily Rhaenys and Draegerys — with utmost vigilance. But he also stood in forced silence despite finding the entire situation curious.
Kieran lingering in place earned more gazes from the fearsome foursome, but he didn't do it to draw a wedge in their alliance. He was more interested in the burgeoning familiarity emanating from them all.
Draegerys lazily shifted his gaze toward Adeia in question.
"Why does the wild man remain? Is there something more he needs from us?"
Unable to answer the question, she shrugged.
"I wouldn't know. This wild man doesn't speak, evident by the deep scarring on his throat."
A deep grumble came from Draegerys' chest, vibrating with a tune of intrigue and irritation.
"That isn't entirely true. His mouth has been rendered useless, but he is not without voice. His eyes and spirit speak all the same. I can feel it. He is searching for something—answers, perhaps. Words are not the only form of communication, just the most direct."
Curious, Kieran looked at Draegerys in spellbound awe. He didn't expect the formidable titan to glean his desires with a glance. Then again, it wasn't unthinkable. That ability likely culminated on the battlefield after opposing countless fallen enemies wasn't unique to the imposing man.
Kieran used his actions to communicate and drew his blade, not Heartsbane held to his body with a baldric, but the mundane steel sword fashioned to his waist with a primitive waistband.
After drawing his weapon, he pointed it at Adeia. He wished to taste her blade's sharpness while in full effect. How did it compare? His battle-lust made it impossible to resist the question.
However, it was not Adeia who answered his challenge.
A wooden chair groaned against inlaid stone as Aerys rose to his feet and circled the table. The citadel's great hall was large, with a spacious floor likely made for entertainment purposes. It wasn't unusual for song and dance to erupt during festive times in the grand hall, suggesting it was designed to account for that.
"Your blade is not yet sharp enough to clash with the Daughter of War. You will needlessly dull her edge. Steel sharpens steel, and you are more iron."
Adeia shifted her body and watched them with disinterest before intoning an order lacking authority.
"Aerys, be sure not to break the wild man. I'll be a shame not to extract any value from him being here."
Aerys huffed, giving a gruff noise of compliance but finding it in him to give a snide rejoinder.
"If he breaks so easily, then he shouldn't have come here in the first place. The Creatures of the Dark are more unkind than I could ever be."
Kieran squinted, somehow finding those words to be a blatant mistruth. He had an inkling of how vicious this man could be off the impression of his aura alone.
Then, the floor erupted in an upsurge of red, forming a ringed barrier around Aerys. Kieran could sense a glut of Mana pouring out of Aerys, but it wasn't haphazard usage. It was well-controlled and instantly formed crimson spellforms without the intimidating man's incantation.
Kieran's psyche promptly reached out to the Testament, the demented, discordant voices increasing to a dizzying volume. Yet, he felt grounded in this condition.
Blood arrows flew true, aimed at Kieran's vital faster than he expected. He mustered a shoddy defense but was baffled by the absurd force of each projectile colliding against his blade.
It compared to a nonchalant blow from the Cardinal.
'Ah, I'm only being taken half-serious.'
The gleam in Kieran's eyes sharpened, burning brighter with a demented intensity. He exploded the smoothened cobblestone beneath his feet with a mad dash, parrying many blood arrows during his bound.
But his breakneck dash was met with amusement and a nudge of Aerys' lips.
Kieran's eyes widened when he sensed imminent danger from his rear. The turned-around blood arrows regained accuracy and shadowed him like a homing device made of pure magic.
Moving far too fast to break his momentum, Kieran turned and allowed his blood to pool into a resilient breastplate. A thunderous impact rang out, the hall's acoustic layout boosting the pitch's harmonics.
Kieran stammered to his feet and wiped the trickle of blood from his lips, but the burning fight in his eyes remained undiminished. On the contrary, the damage he endured was a buttress for his excitement.
'An exceptional opponent. And he wields blood magic.'
"This guy is pretty tough. He took that blow head-on to the chin, and he stands unshaken. Interesting…"
As he lifted his hand, something sinister, cruel, and malefic glinted in Aerys' eyes. A lustrous magic circle appeared on his palm as he spoke words in a tongue Kieran had no recollection of.
Jerked sideways, Kieran widened his eyes, noticing a strange sensation permeate the air. Tendrils of Mana drilled into his body, attempting to wrest control of his blood, but that could not be.
No being could claim to be more of a master of blood than a Fiend. Or so Kieran would hope.
But Aerys was indeed given pause when a monstrous Will billowed from the "wild man" paces away. It severed his strings made of Mana and piqued the Son of Blood's interest.
Kieran approached again, this time avoiding a single burst movement. He moved erratically like a feral beast, bounding back and forth until he entered close-combat range.
Then, his sword swept out in a ravishing arc. It met no opponent, but he pressed with relentless vigor, each slash picking up in intensity, speed, and precision.
The ringed barrier proved a worthy adversary, moving at the whims of the Son of Blood, always ending up in the right spot to deflect or thwart Kieran's sword.
Until Kieran broke his momentum purposely without any signs revealing its nature as a deceptive feint.
Aerys seized the moment to ensure victory and rained down blood spears on Kieran. But as his hand rose to cast the Carmine Cloudburst, a shadow flitted in his peripheral vision.
A swift slash radiating a bloody and grim intent greeted Aerys, and Adeia's eyes widened.
She arrived in a flash, faster than Kieran's sword could travel, and caught it between her fingertips.
"This wild man is… peculiar. His sword is wild but hides deceptive grace. It also uses similar but incomplete foundations of Grim Demise. How is that possible? It is a set of sword forms I developed in battle."
Kieran didn't show it, but he was grinning on the inside. He could have opted for a swordplay he was more proficient in, but he coveted Adeia's attention above all else.
Aerys took some time to overcome his disbelief.
"I have never once beat your sword, no wonder. Have you crossed swords and let this wild man live?"
Adeia gave Kieran a strange look and shook her head.
"No? I have never let anyone live that faced my blade. That would betray the intent of the Grim Death."
Earnest fascination welled inside Adeia, but what would come of it?
Hopefully, his wishes would be answered.
'Let me feel your sword…'
