When Arthur returned to his room, Hades explained that the mark [Glyph of the Blades] which was now [Soulscar of Cerberus] had two things changed from the original mark. One, as implied by the name, his tamed bond was not a Hawk anymore but rather the mythical beast, Cerberus, the guardian of Fields of Punishment employed by Hades. Second, in addition to his Blade art understanding increased, Arthur would now also have increased control and power over the [Death] element. But there was overall one disadvantage to this mark, and it was that it would not be activated until the activation of his [Death] element.
*****
[3 Years Later]
Today, three years had passed since the day Christopher Blade took Arthur under his tutelage and started not only training him but also how to act as a heir, as a Duke's son. During this period, Arthur improved at a blinding speed in his training and broke through to [Novice++], releasing more impurities from his body. Christopher had much more experience than Nolan and Alice combined, and so not only did Arthur grow stronger at a blazing speed but also learned the politics of Luminastra, the motives of the Imperius (1), the loyalty of the Dukedoms and how to keep yourself safe and win over this nexus of power politics.
Christopher knew that a time would come when Arthur would take place as the Blade's Patriarch, but it would not be without its challenges and wars would come for him whether he wanted them or not. For some reason, even though his grandfather did know about the gods, he mentioned to Arthur that situations would come when your family would be in danger and you would have to make difficult choices. But to always go for the side that benefits your family, he implied that the family was the first priority of a man because a man who would not take care of his family was never a real man. He told him that for some reason out of all the Blades to come and go, his path will be the hardest to tread upon, which shocked Arthur and almost made him believe that his grandfather had foresight into the future.
Even though Arthur always abided by this principle, Christopher instilled the thought into him to always value the loyal to your family, the only people who deserved your warmth and love in this world were your family not your friends because he said that true friends were family. The man told him to keep one thing in mind, wherever you were in life,
"Remember Arthur. We are a family, and the loyalty of the family must come before anything and everyone else. For if we honor that commitment, we will never be vanquished-but if we falter in that loyalty we will all be condemned. Because the strength of a family. Like the strength of an army. Lies in its loyalty to each other."
Once, sitting in his office when it was raining, he told him to not be careless in the future and to keep himself away from worldly desires that maybe harmful to him or his family, he told him as he looked out the arched window into the raining atmosphere outside,
"Remember this thing. Women and children can afford to be careless, but men can not. Especially those men who lead their families."
In a way, Christopher Blade taught him about threats in such a way as if he had gone through them personally and survived by a hair's breadth. In all this he came to learn that his grandfather even though cold and indifferent to everyone, was just as much of a human like everyone. People in this world came to think of Zeniths and Menhirs as the pillars of society, the gods of humans, when they forget that they are also a human like them. These pillars don't lose their emotions but rather come to just stay at a distance from them, hiding the pain and sufferings they had gone through.
And his grandfather was just an example in one of those, maybe the man who had gone through the most tragedies in his life maybe. For Christopher's Blade was murdered when he was just 12, his mother died when he was 24, his wife when he 50 and then his beloved Ashblade at 56. It was a journey of loss he had to bear to protect his son's family in the future.
******
In a dimly lit room, suffused with the soft glow of flickering candles, a man sat at an elegantly carved wooden table. His eyes were covered by a white blindfold, hiding whatever gaze lay beneath it, while his medium-sized black hair framed his face in a disheveled yet strangely composed manner. The room itself exuded an air of sophistication, with tall bookshelves lining the walls, their shelves filled with leather-bound tomes and ancient scrolls.
The man leaned forward, his posture relaxed yet focused, as he dipped a quill into a pot of ink. The scratch of the quill against parchment filled the room with a rhythmic cadence, each stroke deliberate and precise. The intricate designs he sketched seemed to flow effortlessly from his hand, as if guided by some unseen force.
The room's white walls reflected the warm glow of the candles, casting a soft, ethereal light that played across the polished wooden surfaces. Scrolls lay scattered haphazardly on the table, their edges curling slightly from age. The man's brow furrowed in concentration, his lips moving silently as he worked, lost in the world of his creation.
A gentle breeze wafted through the open window to the left of the man, carrying with it the cool night air and the faint scent of blooming flowers. Beyond the window, the night sky stretched out in all its glory, a vast expanse of darkness punctuated by the twinkling lights of distant stars. The man seemed oblivious to the beauty outside, his focus unwavering as he continued to write.
Despite his blindness, there was a sense of purpose in his movements, a quiet determination that belied his lack of sight. Each stroke of the quill spoke of years of practice and skill, of a mastery of the craft that transcended mere physical vision. As he worked, the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the man, the parchment, and the timeless dance of ink on paper.
In a sudden break from his focused writing, the man paused, his quill hovering over the parchment as he turned his head towards the window to his right. The clear night sky outside greeted him, a vast expanse dotted with a myriad of twinkling stars that seemed to wink in silent conversation. A small, almost imperceptible smile crept across his face, illuminating his features in a moment of quiet contentment.
In a voice that was both soft and elegant, he spoke a single mysterious line that hung in the air like a whisper carried on the night breeze. "The shadows of the past dance with the light of the future," his words trailed off, imbued with a sense of enigmatic wisdom that hinted at depths beyond mere words. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if waiting for some unseen revelation to unfurl in the stillness of the night.
The man's gaze lingered on the stars outside, as if drawing inspiration from their silent vigil over the world below. In a sudden and unexpected turn of events, as the man gazed out at the stars, a dark, ominous hue enveloped him, shrouding his form in shadows that seemed to materialize out of thin air.
The man, bathed in an unsettling darkness that seemed to materialize out of nowhere, vanished into thin air as he gazed pensively at the twinkling stars through the window. The room itself trembled at this inexplicable turn of events, the candles flickering wildly before succumbing to the eerie shadows that crept across the walls like ghostly tendrils.
His sudden disappearance left a palpable sense of unease in the room, the once elegant surroundings now shrouded in a veil of mystery and intrigue. The quill lay abandoned on the parchment, a silent witness to the enigmatic vanishing act that had unfolded before it. The very air seemed to hum with questions left unanswered, a silent chorus of whispers that danced on the edge of perception.
As the last echoes of his presence faded into the night, the room fell into a heavy silence broken only by the soft rustle of scrolls and the gentle sigh of the night breeze. The man had left behind a world of uncertainty and wonder, a realm where shadows and light wove a delicate tapestry of secrets waiting to be unraveled. The room stood frozen in time, a testament to the mysteries that lurked just beyond the veil of the known world.
*******
(1) Changed the term "Royal Family" to "Imperius".