The audience cheers at the brilliant display of martial skill from both duelists. Rarely do they have the chance to see a Duel between high level warriors. Yet, those well-verse in the art of war remained silent. They look at him with curiosity and machinations. A new star has in stage has entered. There are only a few Pilgrims in the kingdom and Deimos now joins the race of apex predators. 

Even from afar, Deimos can see the blazing fire in the King’s eyes. Anglius was sorely disappointed that none of his other children have started on the Path of Satori. Grendel, his eldest and heir, was a victim of a failed assassination that irreparable damaged his DNA when he was young. He pinned his hope on Brutus yet his appetite for power proved to be a nagging obstacle to attaining the right mindset to Enlightenment.

Deimos looks over at Hermesia. The lost is palpable in her downcast eyes and slumped shoulders. To be defeated in her best form must be hard for her. She is doing all she can to keep herself from crumbling.

She braces herself and approaches Hektor, ready to be rebuked. Yet, the large man broke into a smile and ruffled her sandy hair. The kindness in his face surprised Deimos. Hermesia’s face soften but there are no tears in her face, only mounting determination.

It seems I was wrong about her. Deimos felt nothing from his victory, he thought Hermesia a spoiled brat but he in the fight, he realized that there is something else driving her. Recognition. It must have been a hard journey in mastering those techniques. She showed heart and skill in order to rise to the top. Deimos sees her in the shade of Hektor and decides to do the right thing. There is heaviness in his step as his body is exhausted from his Satori like a sprinter after a lap.

Deimos approaches her with slow deliberate steps. Hermesia notices him coming and straightens herself. The two tensed as he came close. The guarded look on their faces stops Deimos in his track. Awkward silence ensues as the two sides wait for someone to break the atmosphere.

“It seems that I was wrong about you, Hermesia.” Deimos says, “You were truly strong.”

“I…I am….” Hermesia stutters. She tries to look for deception in his face but found none. She couldn’t believe his words as he dismantled her easily like a shark playing with his prey.

“Hermesia is thankful for the compliment, your Highness.” Hektor bails her out, relieved now that the tension is diffused by the actions of Deimos. Hektor looks at him now with interest bordering on rivalry.   

“I am grateful, your Highness, but next time I will beat you.” Hermesia declares but with a tone of respect now, looking directly at his eyes. The fight in her still burns hot but under control, channeling it to a powerful weapon.

“I welcome any challenge, just ask. Maybe I will bring that wine you love so much.” Deimos says as he turns his back on her to hide his amusement and walks away.

“Stunning swordplay, Sharkboy. Your Path is on a high level already.” The low hypnotic voice of Ashegrim can put Deimos to sleep. She has taken a liking in call him Sharkboy, he didn’t know where that name came from but he thought it was strange. It probably came from one of those ancient films she is obsessed with.

“Not as stunning as yours, I fear.” Deimos retorts. Ashegrim smiles eerily like a mannequin. She tries to act normal but she has a different wiring than most people. 

“I still have a long way to go.” Ashegrim shakes her head.

What a monster. Deimos thinks as the Blade Master that is closest to attaining Satori says she still has a long way to go. Her own assessment speaks volumes on how strong she is, she never flaunted her abilities instead letting the mountain of slain enemies show it.

“I haven’t been all that forthcoming when I said I was here as an Arbiter.” Ashegrim explains “I was here at the request of the King to evaluate you. You might be the most talented warrior in Numidica.”

The infamous modesty of the Angel Blade. Deimos thinks. She really believes she isn’t talented or worthy of her position as the Arch Knight of Grandur, her father Grendell’s dukedom. Due to his fragility, Grendell has only one biological child, Ashegrim. The rule of succession states that only the eldest son can become heir and that caused a rift between them.

Deimos was about to reply when he felt an enormous pressure. The world seems to blacken and he feels like getting crushed by a mountain. A mighty headache attacks him like a hammer bashing his skull from the inside. The mighty pain fell him to his knees.

“Deimos?” Ashegrim asks, holding his shoulders to prevent him from falling flat on his face.

The court buzzed with activity as they began pointing something in the sky. Deimos looked up and saw a dark premonition of the past. The world turned into darkness as the sky undulates like a mass countless squirming insect. They are oblivious to the sounds coming from the sky but Deimos heard it.

The screams of the damned, burning in hellfire forming into a black mush.

 Tears began forming in their empty eye sockets that fell slowly at first then a deluge touching everything on land, air and sea. From the bottom of the ocean to the skies above, filling it with their ugliness and evil. The crowd ran from the unseen terror. Deimos looked at the sky as the tears poured unto his face. In the center of that Darkness, a mind-tearing being. A chain of interconnected circles with wings and eyes sprouting from everywhere like doves melted together. To look at it is to stare into the abyss. A creeping madness starts to form in Deimos’s mind, deeds of power, destruction, and death. Temptations of vast wealth, fame unending, and harems of conquered women whispers in his ears.

“I am the Great Shark. Death follows in my wake. My ocean of blood.” Deimos utters his Trigger. He enters Fudōshin or Immovable, a meditative state of equanimity. His mind ,an immovable fortress ,and his heart ,made of steel. Slowly, his mind began to stabilize against the malevolent disturbance. Deimos centers himself. Ashegrim knelt to examine him.

“Deimos, are you hurt?”

“No, I am fine. Just a little drained. Help me up.” As soon as he was on his feet, a noise reverberated through the sky.

A blaring sound can be heard from above from everywhere and nowhere like a great trumpet. A harbinger of the impending doom. The sky rumbles like the beating heart of darkness. And out of that swirling darkness, a voice-like thunder mixed with lightning crackles a proclamation.

The Black Star rise