Chapter Three: I Accept
Aion's POV
"Hey Aion, think fast!"
The knife was thrown in Aion's direction. Just when it was about to pierce his ebony cloak, his hand shot up and caught it. He turned around, smirking.
Aion looked at the soldier who had thrown it. "Nice try, Zach." He replied, tossing the knife back with the same amount of deadly speed. "More improvement needed."
The soldier groaned at Aion's comment, catching the knife quickly and walking away toward the targets.
Aion walked past battling soldiers, silently inspecting them out of the corners of his calculating eyes. As always, they were perfect. Perfect and swift; no errors showing through. The instructors were professionals, of course. No other occupation could compare to the teaching tactics used. Each instructor knew all about their subjects; they didn't beat their initiates, either, like most instructors in this century.
Lord Chaos's army and assassins weren't chosen randomly, either. Each individual was personally selected for a reason; a single reason only Lord Chaos knew and kept.
Aion himself didn't know why he was chosen. He was given a new identity, a new life here. He would fight until his last dying breath for Lord Chaos. Or maybe that was his fatal flaw speaking for him.
Aion shook his head. No, he didn't have a fatal flaw; not anymore. It disappeared the day she did what she did. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing that emerging headache gone. He wouldn't think about that day. He had a whole new life now. His old life was gone, and he preferred it never even existed. He lives in the present, not the past. He made it a point to keep moving a long time ago, and he wouldn't stop now. He wouldn't dwell in his past memories.
He walked out of the pitch black building, and into the equally colored portal of swirling energies. He appeared in a dimly lit training arena, just two single bright lights blazing down, one at the assortment of weapons and the other at a bold circle in the middle of the room.
On one complete side of the room's wall were thousands of weapons, illuminated by the light, each different from the last. Swords, spears, bows, scythes- you name it, were all there. Different weights, balances, looks, and histories. A couple buttons and switches were pressed into the wall beside that. This was his personal training arena. He had gotten it as a gift a year after he joined Lord Chaos's force.
Aion crossed the room and pressed the closest button to him: a blinking neon red. He smiled, narrowing his eyes.
The neon red was a personal favorite. A legion of the hardest, most skilled opponents were to be created and sent out from the sliding doors on the right side of the room.
Aion pulled out his silver knives from the scabbards on either side of his army belt. His grip on the knives hardened as he walked to the small circle in the middle of the room, faced the motionless door, waiting for his opponents to appear.
It took a five second count for the walls' doors to slide open, thirty feet in front of him. A legion of robots appeared, immediately taking action.
Only one message repeated itself in Aion's mind: Just keep moving.
Aion stepped out of the bolded circle, hacking at the robots with fast, deadly hits. He kept low and out of the robots' reaches. Rolling under his target's feet, he quickly regained his footing and jabbed a silver knife in the one sensitive spot on its back.
Just keep moving.
With his other knife, he struck it in another's eye. They all had armor, so any careless move he'd make wouldn't work. He drew a circle, making the robots step back a few inches. They didn't have feelings of mercy. Just installed knowledge. Keep moving; keep moving.
Using that as a distraction, he kicked the closest one to the ground, smashing its head in the process.
He settled into a pattern: slice, jab, sidestep, kick; slice, jab, sidestep, kick.
Keep moving.
He found himself driving his knives into the robots faster than he could think. He felt alive, free. He hadn't felt like this in forever. He quite enjoyed it.
Keep moving.
He waited as the last robot charged toward its death. It swung at Aion with unmeasurable speed, which Aion dodged just as quickly. Graceful and quick, they appeared as two blurry figures as they fought.
Keep moving.
Aion felt himself drawing back, one footstep past another. No.
Just keep moving.
He went from a steady defensive into a dangerous offensive. He sidestepped at the robot's mid-swing, jabbing his knives into that nice one-inch in size weak spot in the higher back all these robots had.
Aion looked up at the timer above the sliding doors containing millions of robots, just a few buttons away from being released.
02:58, the timer read.
Two minutes and fifty-eight seconds. A personal record. His last time had been three minutes and fourteen seconds. He smiled at his accomplishment.
He turned, approaching the buttons again. He was about to push the neon red one again, ready for another wave, when he heard a throat being cleared.
He looked over toward the noise's origin. "My Lord Chaos." Forgetting everything, he immediately sunk down to his knees, bowing before the First Creator standing at the threshold of the dark vortex swirling with ink-colored energy. His knives lay forgotten on the ground in front of him.
Chaos sighed. "Aion, no bowing, please." He sounded tired of saying that phrase. And perhaps he was, after all.
Aion straightened, putting his silver knives in the scabbards hanging from his belt, and looked up at Lord Chaos. "My apologies, sir. What brings you here?"
"I'm issuing a mission," he paused, looking at Aion. "If you accept, that is."
Aion was surprised. "Why so..." He struggled to find the right word. He didn't want to anger the First Creator, though it took much to anger him, if any. "Nice, sir?"
Chaos shrugged. "I have my ways, I suppose. Now about the mission," he took a breath. "You won't like it."
"What do you mean, sir?" Aion's eyebrows were furrowed.
"I mean you really won't like it." Chaos saw Aion's expression, about to interrupt, so he continued. "But I've made a few exceptions."
"Like what?"
"Well, now," Chaos smiled. "You'll have to accept the mission first."
"All right, sir. I accept."
"Great." A tan file appeared in Chaos's hands. He handed it to Aion. "Read it."
Aion didn't need to be told twice. He opened it up, quickly scanning the inside summary. His expression went from stolid to concentrated to nervous to broken to mad to vicious in seconds as he read further in.
The file read:
Gaea, Greek goddess of the Earth, has risen. Tremors have been reported all throughout the seven continents. The mortals, shown recently, are shaken. Many mysterious murders in the huge cities are linked to the said goddess. Begging for help towards Chaos, the Olympians have earned it.
Objective: Fly to destination Earth and defeat or lull Gaea to sleep.
His eyes burned with hatred. These people were the ones who... No. He wouldn't remember. No, the memories were too painful. Instead, he continued reading.
Time: Short; three to five days.
Person(s): Roughly twenty-five soldiers, experienced.
Exception(s): None.
He could only manage one word as he looked up at his utmost calm master. "What?" It was more like a growl than an actual word, really.
Chaos sighed. This reaction was only expected for these circumstances. Typically normal. "Which is why I created quite a few exceptions."
Aion's eyes seemed to calm down some. He looked almost interested as the silence spoke for him. He closed the file.
"You don't reveal anything about yourself or others," Chaos said. "You're there to help win their war, that's it. You're not there to get acquainted like old time friends."
Aion nodded. He quite liked these exceptions.
"Your family can come with, if they want. Your daughter can see how lazy the Greeks have gotten over the years." Chaos suggested.
"I get the strangest feeling you don't like them, do you?" A smirk inched its way across Aion's face.
"Yes," Chaos admitted, heaving a sigh. "More than you most certainly think."
"Well then," Aion said, opening the file back up, scanning the exceptions paragraph. No longer empty, it read the two exceptions Lord Chaos had stated. He mentally sighed a breath of relief. His identity was safe. He wouldn't be bothered by them.
The edges of his mouth tilted upward. "I accept the mission, sir."