Griffon-Slayer

Alphonse ran and leaped across the ship, occasionally looking back at the ominous griffon swerving in the sky.

.After around a minute had passed, Alphonse stopped running circles and stood his ground.

"You just gonna stay up there?"

He shouted as loud as he could.

His shouts turned into wisps in the wind as the squad stayed silent.

Soon the beak of the griffon slowly widened before a strange white energy started building up within it.

Alphonse cursed.

"The hell?"

"They're really trying to demolish this entire ship just to claim my head?"

Alphonse knew that if he tried to leap up to the griffon it would just fly higher.

If he threw his blade it might get sealed.

Fighting a griffon squad was truly one of the most annoying things for a swordsman or any ground-based infantry troop.

As of now, the Griffon was charging a White Wake, a move where a huge voltage of white energy essentially incinerated the area that it was inflicted upon.

Due to the severe drawbacks of the racial ability, it could only be used once per day by any elder griffon.

A small squealing sound was emanating from the air as the griffon charged its power move.

Alphonse was more than ready to just dive off the ship and make his runaway through the river by foot but the stranger next to him had other plans.

A boy with thick uncontrolled black hair and a pale pallor grasped an object from within his fine black robes. He was agile and precise.

The object he pulled out was an orb, full to the brim with a violet hue.

He aimed it toward the sky, towards the griffon to be precise.

"Viotin Death."

Plasma-hot strands of pink lightning zapped out in instantaneous flashes and burned the griffon in singular frames.

Screeches rang out in the atmosphere as the pink lightning stopped groping the griffon which was now severely burned.

Concerning dark-red scorch marks were present all over the griffon which was struggling to even stay aerial currently. It swayed from side to side, its wings had been burnt by the harsh neon-pink lightning.

"CAWWWWW."

"CAW."

"CAW."

The ball of crackling violet lost its wild hue and became an ordinary transparent orb. The boy pocketed the orb before looking at the man next to him.

His eyes widened in surprise.

"Wait... you're the guy who-."

Alphonse let loose a wry smile.

"Call me Kingslayer."

The boy checked a small sheet in his pocket and the faces aligned.

"Hah? There's no way someone like you is the-."

The griffon had gotten within range of Alphonse.

Alphonse clenched his legs before bursting into the air, he rose just to the level of the Griffon.

A few loose arrows split the air around Alphonse, all narrowly missing their mark.

The mage hadn't expected the fight to have even continued and almost fell off the Griffon then and there.

The flyer attempted to steer upwards but it was too late, the Griffon had gone berserk.

Alphonse wielded his blade backward, ready to enact the finishing blow.

"Blade Art: Noble Fang."

Alphonse's figure smoothly powered through the entire Squad in one blow. His blade was enshrouded in a golden aura that formed a point.

Blurtch.

The remains of the Griffon splatted all over the ship below it.

The soldiers too had been pierced through and their hearts had been ruptured alongside around a quarter of their bodies. They fell under the river before their bodies slowly drifted downstream.

As Alphonse effortlessly fell to the ground, a subtle rain of blood tainted his long metallic hair.

Just as Alphonse attempted to bathe in victory, he saw the mirages of an entire platoon of Griffons rising over the horizon behind him.

"Damn. They followed the last one?"

Alphonse hopped off the ship and into some nearby greenery by the sides of the river.

The boy looked around in puzzlement before following, his feet felt like they had cracked when he landed with a squat.

The ship slowly sailed past, going down the river as the two awkwardly sat silently in a bush.

"CAWW."

"CAW."

"CAWWW."

A chorus of Griffon screeches sounded as they swooped down and landed themselves on the ship that kept on going downstream.

"How long are we going to-."

"Shh."

Alphonse shushed the boy.

Griffons had excellent senses of hearing.

After a few more minutes of silence, all of the Griffons had sailed through the sky back to Celestial, the teleportation port.

Only after a few huge beacons of white pierced the sky did Alphonse allow himself and the boy to leave.

"Well..."

Alphonse scratched his chin.

"I suppose you're stuck with me now. I did stick you into my trifles after all."

The boy had a frustrated look as he viewed Alphonse.

"Who even are you? The Kingslayer should not be wary of mere griffons."

Alphonse glared at the boy.

"I'm a Kingslayer, not a mountain-splitter. Those griffon squads combined held enough firepower to challenge a Dragon."

The boy shrugged.

"Well... Kingslayer. You were pretty helpless before I intervened."

Alphonse smirked.

"How about we duel right now then? See if you're all this and that?"

The boy stepped back.

"I'm good. I burnt out all my mana using the relic."

Alphonse shrugged cursing in his mind.

The relic.

How had he not remembered that?

The boy must've truly been in a powerful position if he possessed a relic that could produce amplified magic.

"Still... I was planning to take that boat all the way down to Ruselheart and then I would travel by horseback to Groton's Mountains."

The boy nodded.

"Smart. Aspelion is destined to fall within no more and no less than 3 years at the current rate of the Orcs movement. The equipment is thinly spread across elite troops and the Kingdom hasn't had a real wake-up call in centuries."

The boy brushed down the leaves on his coat.

"That and the fact that they're currently being surrounded all over the Northern front by the Orcs. The Dragons have ignored the Human's calls for help despite the treaty signed all those centuries back."

Alphonse nodded.

"True. The Golden Age of Humanity has long ended. We have been looking down empty holes for far too long. Whilst we wasted our time on meaningless banter, the Orcs were pushed to desperation and somehow clambered together. The only thing keeping Humanity alive is their alliances. But even those may be torn apart in the coming years if not proven futile."

The boy shifted smoothly.

"Well, up North to Groton's mountains it is I suppose. The journey will be long and starved but accomplishable as long as we hang our heads low."

"I'm Valerd Askert. Son of a Merchant, Ex-Executive of the thieves guild."

Alphonse chuckled.

"Well, I suppose you already know my name. Though Kingslayer has spread far and wide, the Thieves guild ought to have known me as Alphonse Judentri. Son of Alcapares."

"That old noble was your father?"

The two's cheered voices soon muffled as they wandered down the path, far beyond the range of the few Royal Griffons left behind to scout for the Kingslayer.

The two sat by a tender blue flame that had sprouted from a shining metal relic. They had walked through the bushier and more concealed parts of the river paths. Hoping to split off from the path after a bit of distance. Though not with map, they were with intelligence. That being Valerd primarily.

Night had fallen, illuminating the skies with nothing but impalpable black.

The moon hung itself like a dead man and its wounds were flashed open to the world.

"But it still makes no sense. Why would you train the blade your entire life just to finish Julius, the weakest King? You could've easily just hired someone with equal skill to your current self to finish the job. I would've done so at least."

Alphonse looked up to the sky. The two had set up a light tent. Valerd carried an assortment of unique yet bizarre necessities.

"It's like tasting a fruit. For all those years that I trained, the fruit grew. Even if I did not train, the fruit still would've grown to be something majestic. But had I not slit the King's throat myself then that fruit would be slathered among the tongue of another man."

"The fruit that my father died for, mind you."

Valerd let out a whiff of curiosity.

"Hmm... Although I have already begun planning the journey how strong do you think of yourself to be? Are you the strongest in Aspelion? The entire continent? Or have you fallen far from your place as Kingslayer?"

Alphonse breathed out heavily.

"I dropped off my esteemed unbreakable armor no more than a few hours back. Without that, I am vulnerable to even mortal arrows. Of course, I would rarely allow one to pierce me but right now I would probably lose to Aspelion's strongest Knight."

"Whaa?"

Valerd's jaw was left behind.

Alphonse shrugged with a look of modesty on his face.

"What do you expect? I'd have to land 10 bloody slashes on my opponent to even crack their ancient armor and they'd need no more than a half slash to send me to death's door."

Valerd kept his hands to his head.

"Wait. The points don't align. How in all of Jotar did you manage to slay the Royal Dragon single-handedly?" Word of the death of the Royal Dragon had spread like wildfire within the capital. Aspelion's true strongest had been said dragon before it met an untimely death against Alphonse.

Alphonse held back a cackle.

"That bastard? I just sprinted past him like an ant and he fell onto a spike whilst trying to chase me down. Putting on weight for a few centuries really didn't help the big lump work on its eye-body coordination skills."

Valerd showed off his back. It had a small segment infested with burn scorches, that had been stitched back on from first glance.

"See this? That's what happened when even an ember of the Royal Dragon's breath makes contact. Still, it was worth getting Dragon's dust or I would probably be on a spearhead right now."

Valerd had fallen to the cold grip of sleep subtly and soundly.

Alphonse clutched his unstained silver blade.

"I suppose it is time to bed oneself."

And wrapped himself in the garments of comfort.