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His face was pale, his pulse weak, and all throughout the night, sweat pooled a his body. She had cared for him throughout those nights: Her mannerisms. While crude to an untrained eye, they were well practiced, as if she\'d cared for another for years.

"Do you worry so?" Luna asked, a faint sliver of a smile threating to surface. "You barely know him."

"Does that matter?" She looked on, her brow tighting as the grueling pinch of her bloody feet against the gravel kept her alert and awake.

"Humor me, disciple."

Ria\'s fist clched, feeling the cool ssation of Altairs sink against hers: "he reminds me of Mother. Although he doesn\'t reek of that infernal poison." She paused, taking a momt beath the sun\'s glare, and pressed ahead. "But we\'re frids, ar\'t we? Although I would like to eat with him sometime…" Her voice trailed off as she continued well into the night.

"Let\'s stop for the day," Luna said, noting the fatigue in which her disciple moved. "You should really wear some shoes, darling. I could fashion some out of—"

"I prefer it this way, Master," Ria said, nearly collapsing as her chest wheezed for air. She smiled, if only faintly. " I like feeling the grass beath my feet, the heat of the stones against my flesh, and the faint tremor of movemt hidd from sight."

"Your—" Her words were brok by the cry chough echoing from Altair as joy dangled over their hearts.

Luna rushed towards him, untangling him from Ria\'s back as she carefully settled him down. She waited, catching sight of an inhuman gleam within his black stone obsidian pupils. His eyes didn\'t resemble one of alertness but one of death.

"Altair?" Luna began, caution in her voice, as she signaled for Ria to back away.

"I\'m back…" Altair whispered, picking up his hands to his face and th to Luna\'s. Tears all but gathered, as a cry, a wail resounded through the night.

For three lifetimes, he lived and died: Gutted and butchered by his very hands. He seized, trembling as he curled into Luna\'s embrace.

"I\'m alive… I\'m alive," Altair whimpered the tang of death of those he hunted as a serpt still caught in his mouth. "I\'m not dead… I\'m a human again… I\'m…"

"Hush, child…" Luna whispered, her voice calm and gtle as a Mother soothing Altair\'s worries. As if her voice carried power, Altair found himself calm. His scattered mind slowly found itself ged. Secure by the Goddess before him. "It\'s alright, my dear. Accidts happ," She told him, already getting a picture of what happed.

"But I\'m sure there are befits, right?"

"Befits?" Altair looked up, catching sight of the system notification.

[Memery of the Serpt - Six Years Completed]

[Dexterity has Increased by ]

[Mana has Increased by ]

[Animal Instincts Acquired]

[Polymorph Acquired

[Fall Necromancy Obtained]

"For this… I was bound. Unable to speak, unable to cry, unable to have a proper meal, forced to hunt and kill for six years?" As if he had gobbled sulfur. Altair bowed his head, tighted his hold a Luna, and siltly cried.

It wasn\'t fair.

But, " Life isn\'t fair." Luna reminded him. "But there are ways to strgth the mind. Ways to temper the spirit so that your suffering could be more tamable. How about a dual, Huh? Crying won\'t solve a thing. Have a match with your Big Sis.

"

"Hey! What about me!" Reina joined, puffing her cheeks, having felt forgott by the duo. "I should be the—"

"Your feet are bloodied and blistered. Relax. And take note." Luna said, leaping form out of Altair\'s embrace. She oped her palm, weaving the moonlight into a majestic sword. Its razor edge fashion to slaughter gods rather than mortals. She pointed her sword towards him, her intt clear.

Thrown back into the wild at the sight of her sword, no differt than a wild beast baring its fangs toward him. Altair\'s pupils shrank, contracting as an unnatural bloodlust rushed out of him. He reached for the sword Ria had fasted to his back to maneuver him easily.

Lunafreya masked her frown under the predatory stare of the boy. She\'d felt such a gaze before. She\'d trained many and carried just as many secrets since the birth of time. But there had only ever be one she grew wary of.

A man who embodied the serpt. Who lived his days a trickster? His fangs masked behind the deceit of his actions.

Altair held onto the Sword of Endmyian, finding it familiar yet unfamiliar. And yet, as he moved, circling Luna in a slow, teasing manner, instincts alongside an inhumane ssation of awaress throbbed like cords through Altair\'s mind.

He waited, the predatorial gaze in his stone-cold eyes cool and indiffert.

There were not many who could grasp what Altair had be through. Few would dare to describe what it meant to live at the brink of life and death, who knew the terrors of starvations or the darkness of survival of the fittest.

"If you don\'t attack, I will," Luna said, feigning impatice. She dashed at Altair.

However, the young prince wasn\'t baited. As if one with the forest, he moved with exquisite grace; he took a half step back, nearly evading Luna\'s slash aimed at his neck, and leaned in, his blade curving upwards in a wicked arc that demanded blood.

No, it demanded her life as the arc of the blade curved like a serpt. It whisked through the winds, carving through all. Ember rang like a sea of flames as the moonlit sword and Endmyian met.

Luna grew startled by the level of supernatural strgth the boy held. It was unnatural and unlike anything he had held days before.

Instincts working in tandem with his mind. A state of knowing sank deeper into Altair\'s perception as a whirlwind of strikes whisked through the winds. His strikes were feral, masking the cold calculations of skill that surprised ev Luna.

\'Shall I up the level?\' Luna wondered, but just as she did, the glint of his blade vanished from the perception of any mortal as it twisted toward her neck with vicious intt.

\'Mephisto!\' She thought, swatting his blade away with her bare hand. She stared deeply at Altair, unable to help the nervous tick rattling through her mind. \'His technique is eerily similar to that bastard Fall during his youth.\'

Luna dismissed her moonlit blade in a flash of eldrich light and stared deeply at Altair, a wariness in her heart birthing. A wariness she easily crushed, knowing no good would come of suspicion. She folded her arms: "Why don\'t we call your Mother? You deserve a break. What say you?"

"Mother?" He said the familiarity of the word spreading a warmth he had sought for years.