Chapter II
"What is Sephiria-san to you, Train ?"
Train was not surprised by the question.
His intuition had been pinching at the inner of his chest, informing him of what was on its way.
The question followed by his memories of her had stayed a frequent guess to his heart since a faraway day in their sharing past, without his awareness.
He had always blindly and restlessly pursued the answer, only to realize it was changed at the last minutes. The thought of being outsmarted by Sephiria's cunningness had crossed his mind more times than he could count. However, in the end, it would remain just another of his silent confusions.
One that he couldn't gather enough courage to voice out. One that Train knew his captain would effortlessly avoid by giving him a more complicated puzzle to solve with her words.
It's bewildering how he was still trapped in her maze even after deserting Chronos. Her talent to manipulate people had never failed to cause conflicts within him. Usually, between the impulsiveness to act on her plan and his frustration towards her mischievous brilliance, he would bias the latter.
Sephiria's clever. And those who were clever tended to take things which they could easily achieve for granted. Additionally, imagining another kind of expression other than serenity on her face was also an experience Train found pleasurable.
It's just never occurred to him before, that being unneeded by her could be such a fatal blow.
That day on Creed's island, when he saw her walking towards the three of them with surprisingly calmness, the hollowness of his realization hit him.
Not only had her mission been accomplished, but also she had crossed him out of her consideration, unhesitatingly and completely. His lives, The lives of those in the Sweepers' alliance, didn't add weights to her conscience in the least.
The fact had sent chills down his spines while setting fire to his heart.
His final witnessing at the control room confirmed the abyss she made for him. There was nothing left for him to defense her, anymore.
To defense what he had deemed so ideally, for both of them.
Nonetheless, he discovered that redrawing her images in blood grudges was easier said than done. The impasse in his own ambivalent war had broken and led him further into despair, day by day.
He had to choose, to face her as something, someone in their story.
He had to write an end for it.
So let's once more race back to the lines where it all began.
The letter of acceptance and the number XIII came unexpectedly.
Train had firmly assumed he failed the test, since no assassin would let go of their targets, despite them being women or children.
But one morning, in the middle of that year winter, his order of summoning arrived.
The order said he had to be at Chronos's headquarter at exactly 8AM, which both annoyed and unconsciously, urged him to the point he made mess out of everything.
He remembered calling Karl in his rush, asking him to borrow one of his ties although he still hadn't figured out how to properly wear it. Fortunately, knowing him as well as Karl did, the mayor instantly picked the boy up to his house to help with the clothes.
Train's hair was spiky and unfamiliar with attention. So when the major insisted on having it carefully combed, Train couldn't help but putting up a protest. However, his knitted eyebrows were the only speakers. Karl was a persistent man. He left people little room for discussion and Train had never been a persuasive person with words.
The moment he departed with the major at the headquarter's entrance, Train could feel waves of uneasiness coming to their wakes. He took a deep breath before innerly laughing at his baseless nervousness. Why feared when his talent had been recognized? Chronos would not set eyes on incompetent individuals. It's their decision that enabled him to have any reason to be here.
This would be another step closer to a greater power, for which Train was seeking.
The ceremony was supposed to take place in the assembly room. But when he pushed open the giant door, the sight welcoming him was bland for its scarcely harboring of people. There were a few guards standing in lines at two sides of the room, and the main stand stayed solitary under the fresh sunlights darting through the transparent glass of the grand twin arch windows.
Train's steps came to a halt as his eyes caught a movement at the other end of the room. However, his caution soon proved to be unnecessary, as the vice commander, Berze Rochefort, emerged from the dark. The man was a force to be reckoned with, which Train could tell without difficulty through a glance at his physical traits. Accordingly, Train lowered his guard, understanding that they were able to peacefully greet each other because the older man was holding no ill will.
"I see that you have had your preparation well instructed." Berze commented on Train's formal look, secretly giving it a comparison with his choice of clothing when they first met. The vice commander's voice was nonchalant.
Unsure of what to say, Train decided to let the subject drop with a slight nod. Not that it mattered much to Berze. His attention had already shifted to a figure that was approaching where they stood.
Train followed the blond man's example and his swirling golden eyes were touched by gentle blue.
The figure was a woman. She had a similar manner to Berze, yet veiled with more elegance. Her quick paces soundlessly brought her to the two man's place. Berze briefly exchanged look with her before respectfully bowing to return to a corner besides the main stand. His former position towards Train now was occupied by the newcomer.
Never in his life had Train beheld a beauty which could force him to admit its preeminence to that of his mother, until then.
His ears let some of her words fall out as he froze under her scanning gaze. However, the name Sephiria Arks was memorized in an instant.
Strands of wavy ash blond emitted auras under the bright sun lights as their owner's voice resounded across the room. Each word came out in grace, yet enriched with power. Her speech instilled Train in his place and, as noble as a queen's knighting sword, bestowed on him his title, a Time Guardian.
The movement her fingers made when she presented him with Hades was beyond delicacy. Despite the perplex towards his own excessive observation, Train's eyes kept gluing on her every gesture without control. Helpfully, the shiny surface of Hades erased his doubt on whether or not his facade had dropped. Reflected on the pistol's body was a stern expression, showing nothing but seriousness.
So this was the infamous captain of Chronos's most elite unit in battle. A lady that was gifted with all quintessences. Through his experience, she must be a few years older than him, though her appearance was deceitful.
The longer he studied her, the more erratic waves of the unknowns woke up at the pit of his stomach.
Pleasant was not the word he would pick to describe them. But 'flutter' was a fine settlement.
Below eagerness and above indifference.
The ceremony had ended.
Watching from the darkness of the room, Berze had his chance to ruminate over everything in detail without fear of disruption.
He could reach his conclusion quickly with the boy. Train Heartnet was impressed, not in the way Berze, as a brother, found likable. Nevertheless, it was still within his limit to accept, maybe to allow himself some pride, too.
That could be seen as a good sign as well. According to Karl, Train was not an expressional person, even if it was only with his eyes. And those eyes had shown a lot today.
Possibly, somehow Train Heartnet had felt it. The string of similarities in his beginning and Sephiria's.
Both of them knew little of what was called "consanguinity".
Sephiria's father had sacrificed himself in the war against Taoists. Although her mother was able to stay by their daughter's side longer than him, Viviane still didn't get the blessing to see the Sephiria of all those years after her 10th birthday.
Growing up under the care of the Rochefort, Sephiria was kindly treated and favorited by Berze's own parents, but she had never once said the words that they longed for. She bade her goodbye with them at the age of 12. From that moment on, their reunions got scarcer as time flew by. Now Berze became the solely news bearer to his parent on her wellbeing, although that task was gradually being proven challenging.
Tragedy had unfolded upon Train Heartnet's family when the young man was only ten.
Zagine was famous for his code of not engaging in whatever involving people with children, so Train's parent's assassination must have been proposed to the hitman while containing no information about the boy's existence. Miraculously, as ruthless and merciless as Zagine, when the question of morality cropped up, he still chose to answer with what abided by a human's nature.
Depending on how hardened Train had been during his time at Karl's place, there was no doubt he would make quite a name for himself as an eraser. Zagine would have smirked victoriously had he ever had the chance to see this seemingly successful outcome.
Berze honestly hoped that much in common would increase the prospect of Sephiria's plan, their plan, coming off. No matter how cruel and despicable they must be in order to exploit Train, Berze would not withdraw nor allow Sephiria to waver in this. Although that case was the least to happen, he would rest more assured if everything was laid within anticipation.
His sister's throne was being put under great jeopardy. Above all, both of them understood what would eventually go down with it.
Sephiria's appointment as number I didn't sit well with a majority of members.
The Time Guardians had received severe damage after the war against Taoist, the same as other parts of Chronos. The demise of its former captain, the previous head of house Arks, had temporarily created a wishful vacancy for many power-hungry eyes. However, the appearance of the heir to the Arks family soon replaced those ambitions with immense discontentment.
Klaussius Arks, the deceased number I, had a daughter, a gift from the secret love between him and his vice commander, Viviane Lane. Since Viviane had survived the war, according to his will, she would then be given the right over his position as the family's head until the coming of age of Sephiria. The sprout also had legalized the Rochefort's guardianship over their child in case of misfortune in the future.
Leaving the important papers in the protection of the family's lawyer, Viviane felt it safe enough to steadily press on the council of Elders about her daughter's succession to her father's title. Viviane promised the Elders her husband family's allegiance, along with the support from their allies, in return, Sephiria would be provided with all necessities and must be selected as a candidate for number I when the time came. Her training would be done properly with the swordsmanship of the Arks.
In short, Sephiria's bound to be the blade of Chronos to her death.
With too much chaos already at hand and taking Sephiria's genetic healing ability, which was passed onto her by her parents, into account, the Elders did see the benefits of this deal worthy of their agreement. Despite their want to banish house Arks from those of principals, its resources were still a crucial force for the remaining of Chronos in this weakening period, not to mention what the future would bring. Finally, after a few punishments were conducted on those who opposed by Berze, Sephiria's fate was set.
Fortunately, Sephiria was a quick learner. The keenness in her thinking at an early age revealed a great potential of leadership, which was very much similar to her father. Enhanced physical traits also enabled her to master the Arks Ryuukenjutsu with grave accuracy. By burning the process, Sephiria had already overpowered most of her targets, along with predecessors, before the age of 17. Consequently, just one year later, the Elders, not even care to be concerned by other candidates, without delay entrusted the position of number I to Sephiria.
4 years..., Berze darkly frowned at the reminiscence, nearly half of a decade had flown by since that day and the grudge still ran deep in the hearts of those malcontents.
Needless to tell, the wrath towards the Elders' decision had never been so vicious. The rest of Chronos was fueled with rage. However, when it came to house Arks and Rochefort, no one could declare their victory with certainty. As a result, the dissent remained in silence, temporarily freeing the young captain and her vice commander from severe bloodshed for a short two-year period.
With roots of hostility staying uncut, the wind had again risen and the time for turmoil had come. Mouths were watering while claws were being sharpened. But it was going against the singleness of minds among their foes which rendered Berze sleepless, not the number. Those starving, malicious fangs had united into a solid, heartless blade.
The headsman in whom their enemies believed to carry out the "noble" task must be none of the ordinary. A person that would not be struck with the havoc of vengeance after the job was done. One that could guarantee his allies and himself the safety to later savor their piece in the cake of power.
This must be a match of cheating. A game in which cunningness and callousness would decide the winner.
And number XIII would be the piece to deliver those meanings for Sephiria on this chess board.