Extra Chapter:
Ares Boreas Greyrat

 

ARS, THE CAPITAL OF ASURA, is also the single largest city in the world. It takes its name from the legendary hero who led mankind to victory in the Great Human-Demon War.

The first time a traveler lays their eyes upon this metropolis, their astonishment is impossible to disguise. The towering castle at its center, known as the Silver Palace, is surrounded by the great mansions of the high nobles; beyond the fortress-like walls that encircle this area, the city itself sprawls out in every direction, all the way to the horizon. 

Here, you will find an enormous arena, the splendid training grounds of the Royal Knights, and many beautiful Millis churches. Canals run throughout the entire city, crossed by countless lovely bridges. Other notable attractions include: the headquarters of the world’s largest businesses; the original training halls of the great Water God Style; the famous playhouses of the theater district; the sensual, seductive women of the pleasure quarter; and the great gate built to commemorate Asura’s victory in the Laplace War…

This is a city that seems truly endless. No one vantage point can offer you a view of it in its entirety. It spreads far beyond even the Alteir River, which gave it life— it sprawls as far as any eye can see.

They say that everything in the world can be found within Ars, the oldest of its cities. And once you’ve seen it for yourself, you may find it difficult to argue.

 

–EXCERPT FROM “WANDERING THE WORLD” BY THE ADVENTURER BLOODY KANT

Standing in the courtyard of one of the grand mansions covered in beads of sweat was one Ares Boreas Greyrat. He heaved a breath as he swallowed down a lump in his throat and tightened his grip on his wooden training sword.

The boy was just about the same as any other Boreas Greyrat in the grand city of Ars. He had a voluptuous beast folk maid who he reveled in the company of—that particular attraction becoming the family’s signature attribute. 

Upon first glance, his home city was one of the most illustrious places in the known world. However, behind closed doors, a viscous darkness loomed above the upper echelons of the nobility. It was a corrupt, never-ending struggle for power. Be that as it may, Ares was just a child. His current business was more along the lines of looking handsome and greeting other nobles. 

He was currently nine years old. His hair was a vibrant but dark red color, an indication of his family’s genes. Although his father had brown hair—but Ares didn’t care to notice. He dressed up in his signature training outfit, a brown vest made of sturdy fabric to protect his vitals, a button down white shirt underneath, grey trousers and a maroon pair of gripping shoes. 

The day’s slight breeze seemed to nibble away at his perspirating skin, sending a chill down his spine. He found himself wishing he was inside of the mansion, sitting near the fireplace and being coddled by his maid. It seemed much more favorable than being outside, drenched in sweat while being frustratingly corrected with every two steps he took.

“My, you should always focus on your opponent. Come at me, little one.” 

That pompous, almost mocking voice came from his master, Auber Corvette. Ares found it hard to get used to his master’s outrageous—yet somehow not out of place among the nobles—hairstyle that resembled an asteroid crater. The man had a scar over his right eye and had deep velvet-colored eyes, a similarity to Ares. But the clear difference between their eyes was that Auber’s had seen many a battlefield.

Ultimately, Ares thought his mannerisms were annoying and his clothing ridiculous. Auber would always speak in a high tone of voice as if he were babying a child. Most of his discontent with Auber was that he hated to be treated like a child. He was the firstborn child of the Boreas Greyrats, after all. He had big shoes to fill, and it weighed on him.

However, even with how much Ares complained, Auber took all insults as playful words from a student. He didn’t mind Ares’s attitude as long as he worked diligently with the sword. Ares had to oblige, naturally. It was the one thing he could do to take his mind away from his drugdingly boring noble etiquette classes.

“Do tell me, what are you waiting for?” Auber pursed his lips. Ares narrowed his eyes and charged forward, readying his sword for when he reached melee range. He met Auber’s gaze as he swung forth with a wide, strong slash. 

Auber took a single step back and effortlessly evaded the attack. With a slight adjustment to his feet to keep his balance, Ares took initiative and immediately swung again, directing it at his master’s shoulder. Auber’s eyes never left his student’s sword as he swatted it away, knocking the boy off balance.

“You mustn’t leave yourself open by striking with a large swoop. Look at your opponent’s blade and strike when they won’t be expecting it. That’s the essence of the North God Style, little one.” Auber advised.

“Enough of that already!” Ares glared at Auber. After swiftly readjusting his grip, Ares proceeded to speed up his blows, each of his poorly timed and clumsy movements being sharply countered by Auber’s precise ones. 

Auber grinned, and said, “Never let your emotions overtake you in battle. Find a balance between aggression and your focus and hone in.” 

Auber’s strikes took a noticeable uptick in speed, overwhelming the boy. In Ares’s muddled mind, the easiest solution was to pour all of his weight into his strikes and hope one connected. This, however, quickly showed itself to be a poor decision. As Ares drew his sword back to land an attack, Auber unhesitatingly used the vast opening left by his movement and slammed his wooden sword against the side of Ares’s upper arm. 

“Uggh!” Ares sputtered, a snap of blunt pain inciting a wince. 

“I believe I recommended that you not use wide sweeping attacks. If you miss an attack, you’d be lucky to keep your grip on your sword. If it somehow manages to land, it’ll be a pain to maintain your position. Take note, please.”

Ares grunted in frustration, taking a half step forward and thrusting his sword at Auber. But his strike was never meant to hit—a feint. By finishing your attack halfway, you could bait an opponent into striking, which is when one would push forward and use the rest of their range to land a hit. This was one of Ares’s favorite techniques, and he made it a point to use it in every one of his sparring matches. 

Auber raised an eyebrow for a split second before immediately stepping backward two paces. In contrast, Ares nearly stumbled to the ground after his target suddenly shifted position. He sucked his teeth in contempt as he eyed Auber’s sword. 

“That feint was certainly an improvement. Your work is paying off.” Auber drew back his sword and sheathed it. “Very well, I think we can call this a draw for–” 

Ares swung his sword at Auber but felt nothing but the slight resistance that came with slicing through air, with Auber having leaped backwards. Auber reached into one of his scarlet pockets and ripped out a pouch, tearing into it with his teeth and throwing it at Ares. It exploded while airborne, blinding Ares. He groaned in pain as he fell to the ground, landing on his rear end.

“Goodness. As a North God Swordsman, you should expect that I am always on guard, even after a duel.” Auber shook his head.

It would be a stretch to say that Ares hated his master. Yet, he felt frustrated that Auber would constantly treat him as a child instead of who he truly was—his apprentice. Even after the many weeks that had transpired since Auber first began training him up, Ares was only Beginner-tier in the North God Style, so he had a long way to go until he would be acknowledged. 

Ares struggled to get up with the stinging pain in his eyes. He blinked repeatedly and rubbed his eyes, irritating his skin and leaving him feeling defeated. When he looked up, Auber was nowhere to be found. Ares often likened Auber to a ninja in that sense. One moment he was there, one moment he wasn’t. Ares was itching to learn how to do that, but Auber wouldn’t let him until he was at least intermediate-class. 

Ares got up and kicked aside his wooden training sword left lying on the ground.

“Damn it. Why do you have to be so cool…” he grumbled.

---

To put it simply, Ares was a spoiled child. It was to be expected, of course. His two younger brothers, while both 5 and 7 respectively, were only next in line. And the firstborn child of such a powerful family was automatically granted respect, no matter how young they were. Ares didn’t see much of his brothers in the first place, with his etiquette lessons and training sessions taking up all of his day. 

In the rare occasion he did see them, it would be at a party—and even then, he maintained some distance. What did he have to talk about with them, anyway? They didn’t have any sort of familial bond that one might expect, but Ares tried not to mind. There was just too much different between them. For one, his vibrant crimson hair stood out. Hardly any nobles had a color of hair that was anything besides brown or blonde, or something in between. 

But instead of feeling isolated, he used it to his advantage. Ares was well-aware that red was a beautiful color in his culture. It symbolized wealth, power, and most of all, reliability. And of course, as a member of the Greyrat family, notorious for their lust, he used that to try to impress young noblegirls.

“Hey, ladies,” He’d say at a party. “May I have the pleasure of this dance?” He would try his hardest not to let his grin creep up onto his face.

Of course, Ares would always end up stepping on the noblewoman's feet, which left them thoroughly unimpressed. With every failure, he only grew more motivated to get it right the next time. He’d go as far as to swear up to the moon that he’d charm a lady from sheer charisma alone. Incidentally, he began paying more attention to his etiquette classes. 

A few months after he began paying attention to ladies, Ares attended the 5th birthday celebration of a lower-noble girl. Ares wasn’t one to pay attention to all of the details, but this time, at least, he knew that the girl's name was Tristina… or maybe Christina? 

Regardless, he attempted to pull the same thing that he always did at celebrations like this. After scanning the ballroom for a suitable partner, he stepped in front of a blonde girl. She was pretty enough, he thought.

 “May I have this dance?” He offered, making sure to correctly bow in front of her.

The girl giggled, and said, “Sure. Luke, stay here.” She spoke to another boy. Was he her lover? Ares thought, which made him a little upset. What was the point of this all if she was already with someone? In the end, he decided that it would make some good practice. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself this time. 

The two began to dance, and Ares kept in mind the little tricks his instructor had engraved into him. Instead of thinking of it as a formality, his instructor told him to think of it as footwork in a sparring match. With that in mind, he puffed up his chest with confidence as he noticed the blue-eyed girl smiling. When he momentarily paused to flash a smile back at her, he carelessly slipped up. He stepped on the girl’s foot, and he grimaced promptly. He looked up to the girl to gauge her reaction, and she was… blushing. Ares hesitated, but he concluded that it didn’t matter to Ares as long as he kept the girl entertained. He clumsily finished the rest of the dance. 

The girl giggled again and whispered in his ear. “You’re interesting. I’ll keep you.”

That night, the two of them grew a lot closer. His hard work had finally borne fruit.

---

That morning, when the rays of sunlight cast a shadow over both of their blanketed bodies, the girl revealed her identity. His heart dropped when she told him that he’d spent the night with none other than Ariel Anemoi Asura, the second princess of the Royal family. However, for what little comfort it provided him, she reassured him saying that she wasn’t anyone particularly important, and that she wasn’t vying for the throne. After chatting a bit more, Ares learned that Ariel had two bodyguards, one who was at the celebration named Luke Notos Greyrat, and a mage named Derrick Redbat. 

Ares liked to show off to girls, so he did just that. He instructed one of his butlers who could use a sword to spar with him in front of Ariel and her company. He was one of the Boreas Greyrat’s few Water God Swordsmen, who all came from a training hall in one designated mansion. Rumor had it that the all-imposing Water God had trained there decades prior, so it attracted a lot of attention. 

With this in mind, Ares knew that the butler wouldn’t be a pushover. If he were to use this opportunity to woo Ariel he’d have to tell the butler to lose on purpose. After a few minutes of pleading, he finally got him to agree. Unfortunately for Ares, it was all for naught. The ‘spar,’ if you could even call it that, lasted less than five minutes and hardly kept Ares’s attention, let alone Ariels. He looked over to see her reaction, only to find his master chatting her up.

In a fit of frustration and a hint of jealously, Ares fumed and began walking towards them. Before he could say anything to Auber, though, Ariel exclaimed. 

“Ares, you have got to duel with your master! I’d love to see it!” Her eyes were practically shining. Ares was at a loss. Ares glanced over to Luke and Derrick, whose gazes collectively softened in sympathy. He had no other choice but to humiliate himself in front of such a beauty. He sighed, and made his way back to the sparring field, with Auber following suit.

“You must put up a good fight, little one. Your pride is on the line, after all.” Auber said, drawing his wooden sword. It felt like a taunt to Ares, so he furrowed his eyebrows. He had to try something different if he didn’t want to lose immediately. He thought back to all of the advice Auber had given him. He had shrugged it all off at the time in favor of insulting him, but maybe Auber was right. He gripped his wooden sword.

“Remember, never stride from your enemy’s weapon. If they’re one-armed, then that’s their sole weak spot in their defense. If their dual-wielding, track each individually as if both of your eyes were separate. In the vast world of swordsmanship, losing sight of the opposing blade means your head will be flying before you know it.”

Many weeks ago, back to when Ares had begun working with the sword, North Emperor Auber made sure to drill the basics into the hot-headed Ares’ mind. He felt a whisk of passion inside of Ares that was just waiting to be beat into shape. However, it proved to be a time consuming process, as Ares tended to think with his arms before his head. 

Without a proper way to teach Ares, Auber found that there was only one suitable teacher—Pain. 

After so many failed attempts, dozens of sparring matches finished with blood-soaked armor, Ares began to subconsciously pick these techniques up. But there was always a wall that prevented him from being able to utilize them in the heat of battle. And now, that wall was shattered through as Ares finally managed to cool his head and prepare himself for the spar.

“Begin!” shouted the butler who was standing at the edge of the field. 

He charged at Auber, his eye stuck to his master’s sword. There were a measly five meters in between the two, a distance that he would no doubt cross in seconds. His master allowed him the luxury of a first strike—something that he would not let go to waste.

His elbow! Ares’ mind directed him. As if on command, his sprint was adjusted in a way that would allow him the freest movement to strike.

If he wanted a chance at winning the spar, or at least keeping an ounce of dignity, he needed to hinder Auber. The entire body worked together to strike; first, your footwork needed to be clean and stable, next, the wielder needed some sort of windup to power the attack, and finally, executing the swing under any circumstance. And while Ares was desperately lacking the battle intuition to predict his opponents’ footwork—he’d need much more practice to get to that level—his many beatdowns forced a semblance of an understanding of where to expect an elbow movement. 

The one thing that stood out in his mind was that if you could strike directly at the elbow or upper arm, even if it was just a blunt hit, it would affect each consecutive attack from your opponent negatively. It was Ares’ one saving grace—if he could follow through.

The moment Ares reached Auber, or rather, the moment Auber allowed Ares to enter melee range, he slashed down from his right hand side, his eyes locked with Auber’s weapon but his arms aiming toward his master’s left shoulder. With the wind slashing the wooden blade, a hollow swoosh echoed into his ears. 

What? It didn’t connect? Ares’ focused mind was at a loss for a brief second. It was unbecoming of his master to allow Ares to tumble to the ground without an immediate counterstrike. The two outcomes were always between him landing the attack—which was easier said than done—or the more likely outcome, that his master would masterfully parry it. Either one would have offered some physical resistance, but there was nothing.

That just leaves… 

As Ares nosedived to the ground from the continued momentum, he juked his empty arm to his left and tumbled. 

Right behind me! His mind warned. After a full roll, Ares was on one knee without a moment’s delay. Immediately whipping his head around, Ares’ prior deductions were proven correct as the vistage of his master’s overhand strike barred towards him. 

Ares thought back to something he’d noticed personally a few sessions prior. The wooden training swords were designed specifically for someone of Ares’s stature. For better or for worse, they were the right length for Ares, but not for an adult like Auber. In some situations, it was beneficial to have a shorter weapon that could be directed more forcefully. But in others, it meant it would take longer to reach melee range. 

This seemingly insignificant detail might prove to be an asset to Ares. In the current spar, Auber was in the latter of the two situations. And with that in mind, he prepared a quick strike to the chest.

Using whatever one had to win was the very core of the North God Style. For the first time, Ares understood that.

Auber’s hardened gaze softened for a split second before he caught onto what Ares was attempting. If he weren’t sprinting straight at him, dodging the attack would be no issue. But Auber was in no position to suddenly stop and move out of the way. So, his only action available to him was to swat his sword away. 

Auber swung his poised sword from above his head to directly against Ares’, angling it in a way that wouldn’t completely miss the parry. A clang of wood against wood rang out between the two. 

“That was very well done, little one.” Auber declared, the corners of his mouth curling into a grin.
“This isn’t finished yet, Master.” Ares readied his blade. Auber shrugged, and he threw himself at Ares. He began overwhelming Ares, throwing feints, strikes, and even trying to trip him. No matter the cost, Auber wouldn’t let Ares get the upper hand again. He needed to teach Ares the weight of his actions and how a single inaction or carelessness would lead directly to his end. 

Ares felt the end of the spar approaching if he did nothing to stop his advance. His overloaded mind worked to find a way that could turn the tables, and he found exactly what he was looking for. North God Style Intermediate Technique: Altercation.

Ares worked his legs in a way that crept sideways and, if given the opportunity, would overwhelm the opponent, flipping the fight on its head. Ares sped up his pace, parrying and deflecting blows from Auber. He just needed Auber to direct his attention to his footwork and he’d gain the opening to attack. 

That was what he desperately needed—but it completely backfired. His eyes had trailed off from Auber’s sword. Ironically, in trying to find an opening in Auber’s stance, he’d left himself vulnerable to a similar approach.

“Guh!” He was struck in the gut by Auber’s wooden sword. He dropped to one knee. 

“D-damn it…” He said, holding his stomach. A pit of humiliation formed in his gut. Even despite all of his efforts, he’d lost. And above itall, it was in front of one of the most beautiful girls Ares had laid eyes upon.

But, Ares was taken off guard when Auber smiled. “Splendidly done, Ares. I, North Emperor of the Peacock Blade, hereby grant you the title of an Intermediate-tier North Swordsman.” Ares looked up, astonished. It had been two years since he began training under his master. And never once had Auber directly called him by his name. 

“I… Thank you, Master.” He managed to calm himself down enough to respond to Auber. 

“Come now, Ares. You have someone awaiting you.” Auber motioned towards Ariel. 

Her usual elegance was still on her face, yet she was enthralled.

“How was it, Your Highness?” Ares asked while bowing, trying to hide his pained expression. 

“Ares, how would you feel about becoming my personal bodyguard? There’s something sweet in it for you if you accept.” She said, shocking Ares. 

“And that is?” He asked sheepishly. She giggled, and said, “Do you really have to ask, Ares?” 

I guess… this really isn’t so bad, huh?

And so, that day Ares became Ariel’s bodyguard. 

---

A year passed, and his tenth birthday celebration came and went. Ariel gave him a certain birthday present, and Ares was progressing with his swordsmanship. He hesitantly began to learn how to read and write, but he drove away any tutors who tried to teach him arithmetic. His life was going steadily enough, and he was content.

One day, his father, James sat him down to have a conversation. This wasn’t particularly abnormal, but Ares couldn’t shake the feeling that he was going to learn something that he wouldn’t want to know.

“Ares. You’ve turned ten years old now, so I suppose I should tell you this now.” His father seemed to want to get this out of the way as soon as possible. 

“I am not your father.” The words reverberated inside Ares’s skull. 

“I-I don’t understand. You’ve always been my father for as long as I can remember.” He said, trying to convince himself.

“That’s just it, Ares. You and both of your brothers come from a different branch of the Boreas bloodline. I, as the future head of the family, took you under custody. You are a very important noble, and your heirs could help tie us to other powerful families. I see you’ve been getting along with the Second Princess, as well. I encourage you to grow closer to her, as that would be a perfect use of your blood.”

Ares was at a loss. Not only had his “father” completely brushed off the fact that he had lied to him all of his life, but he was acting like Ares was a tool to help him gain more power. It was beyond irritating. He was livid. He wanted, no, needed to get away from it all. 

As often as he let his emotions get the better of him, he had another side to him. He was level-headed and proud. It was no doubt an aftereffect from having learned so much from Auber. Ares usually never had to make any hard choices, and he wanted it to stay that way. But in his training, he’d been educated in how to cool his mind enough to make a clear decision. 

And after he weighed all of the possibilities, Ares decided right then and there that he was going to run away. 

But he couldn’t be rash about it. If he did something as insane as abandoning his family with no planning, no doubt would he fail. He needed to learn a little more about his circumstances and make an opportunity. 

“I understand, Father. Will there be a time when I will be able to meet my real parents?” He asked, trying not to let any emotion leak on his face.

“Ah, if you want a exact date, I’d have to look at my schedule. But, the earliest I could take you to Roa and meet them would be… probably late in the winter, two years from now.” James said and got up from his seat.

Ares recalled Roa being a rather small city in the Fittoa Region. That would make for a perfect place to run away. But there was one small issue: he had no idea where he would go from there. Auber had mentioned the Sword Sanctum in the far north of the Central Continent, so maybe he could seek refuge there. Auber wasn’t the type to be bound to a contract, such as the one he’d signed to train Ares at his family’s mansion. Thus, as long as he played his cards right, he could get Auber to tag along with him.

It was all beginning to fall into place for Ares. He would find some time where he could sneak away, and assuming Auber was there with him, he could find a route to make it to the Sword Sanctum in under a year.

“Very well, if that’s all, Father,” Ares said, getting up from his seat as well. “Thank you for taking care of me all these years. You will always be my father in my heart.” He said, without letting a single drop of emotion seep into his meaningless words.

 

Ares’ very nature was to rebel. But this time, the strings of fate would lead him to a girl who would undoubtedly change him forever. His time in Roa would introduce him to winds of change that threatened to shake the entire world.

But that’s a story for another time.