“Another incorrect assignment?” a dark voice asked from the depths of flickering shadows.

“Looks like it. It’s a good thing Lili noticed so quickly and told our group to start picking up assignments in the areas lower year groups are heading into.” A tired, deep baritone responded.

A man in golden armor accented with hardened crystals sighed as he pushed back braided hair, the metal trinkets woven throughout tinkling gently as he did so. He could still remember how Lili had begged to braid his hair for him, surprising him with the ornaments with an impish grin, telling him how she thought they brought out the gold in his eyes.

Golden eyes that are a lie now. Alistair thought darkly as his hand dropped down to cover his eyes. He wasn’t sure what was worse, having the same eyes as the woman who had tried to kill his sister, or having the blue eyes of the man who had been so willing to neglect that same sister. Was he doomed to mimic the worst people he knew? Were his eyes always going to mirror the tainted blood running through him?

Lili has the same color eyes though, Alistair rubbed his face at the familiar thought. So familiar it had worn channels in his mind from the frequency with which it whispered through him.

He wasn’t even sure why he kept up the illusion now, hiding the sapphire blue eyes he’d gained after his Water affinity hit 50% mastery. He’d known the blood adoption had done something. Nobles wouldn’t put so much stock in it if it didn’t. However, finding out he’d gain Rosengarde blue eyes when he took and began to master the noble house’s element had come as a surprise to him. A not very welcome surprise.

Sometimes he truly wished he could be like his sister, or his friends. People who didn’t seem to think their own blood was a crime they had to repent for. No matter who their parents were, they never seemed to believe the sins of their parents should be paid by their children. But it was something Alistair couldn’t stop feeling, a guilt carried deep within him for crimes he’d never even committed.

Sometimes it felt like only Koth’talan understood that part of him. Fire colored eyes staring at him, too knowing, filled with a guilt and disgust for his own blood.

Would Lili see herself in his eyes if he were to take off the illusion? Or would she only see the man she hated so much? The same way Alistair did? Oh, she thought she hid the fact she utterly despised her father so well, but Alistair knew. There was little Lili could hide from him anymore.

If anything, her hatred of Frederick Rosengarde exceeded the hate she had for Imogen, if that was possible. Then again, the man’s willful ignorance of his wife’s actions had directly resulted in Astrid’s death. And Alistair had never known Liliana to let go of a grudge.

“Should we let them know they’ve got help coming?” Emyr asked, stepping out of the shadows he was lurking in order to crouch next to where Alistair was hiding.

[Stealth] wasn’t anywhere close to his highest leveled skill, but hiding from a bunch of third years was child’s play at his level. At any of class S’s levels. He wondered if Liliana realized the effect she’d had on their class, all of them leveling furiously whenever they were given the chance, just in the hope of keeping up with her growth. And still, as the years passed and Lili gained more levels, they all seemed to fall further and further behind.

How long before she left them all in the dust? It felt like he was always chasing after her back, just out of reach, as she kept moving forward. Alistair feared the day she became so powerful, he could no longer stand at her side and protect her. He was her older brother; it was his duty to protect his littler sister.

Gods knew they were the only ones in their family left they could depend on. Lili might make friends with an ease that belied her reluctance to deal with any social situation, but Alistair was not quite so inclined to build a found family. He had friends, but in his mind, Lili would always be his only family. She would always come first. He owed her that, at the very least, in repayment for what his own mother had done to her. Taken from her.

He could live a hundred lifetimes and still never make up for what she had lost. But he would try every day to do so. He could at least make sure Lili knew she was never alone, that she didn’t have to bear the burden of whatever it was that put that haunted look in her eyes so often now. He was a protector, had always been, ever since he’d made that final promise to his father. The only father he recognized, no matter what he called Frederick out loud.

“The most important thing I can teach you, son, is to always protect what you value most.” Artair Thornebell told his son, face serious and voice solemn, as he looked at the nine-year-old standing across from him.

Alistair would look back on this memory in later years, and wonder if somehow his father knew death was close. If he knew that the woman he married was a viper laying in wait in his bed, poised to strike. Had he already been suffering the effects of the mysterious ‘illness’ that would slowly turn him into a husk of a man already? Could he taste death in the back of his throat even then? Did it taste of poison dripped carefully into his food and drink by the woman he’d foolishly fallen in love with?

Alistair hadn’t seen it then, hadn’t realized that his mother had already set her sights on the widowed Duke Rosengarde, who was rumored to be looking for a new wife finally. Hadn’t seen that he was even then being used as a pawn in his mother’s game, a ready-made noble born heir just waiting to be placed where she needed.

Looking back, it was so obvious what she’d done. What she’d used him for.

Alistair had thought Artair meant he was to protect his mother, who he loved with all the fervency a small child could, still deep in the hero worship all children held for their parents. He hadn’t seen that his father, his true father, had been speaking of the sacrifice he’d already made. If Artair had fought his fate, would Alistair have turned into a target to be used to control Artair instead?

Had he already been used as such?

Or would he have been killed too, in his mother’s quest for power?

“When you find someone you love with your entire heart. Someone that you’re willing to lay your life down for. Make sure you’re strong enough to protect them. Be their shield, Alistair. Be the wall at their backs so no blade can touch them. Become strong, Alistair, so no one can take what you love from you.” Artair gripped his son’s shoulders in a gentle grip that none would expect from the hulking man’s size.

Artair was a man that more closely resembled a bear with his trunk like arms, bushy beard and barrel chest. But he had always handled Alistair as if he was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. His laugh was like rolling thunder, the most comforting noise Alistair could imagine.

He always felt safe with his father, always knew no harm would befall him as long as his father was around. Perhaps that was why everything had started to go wrong when he died, because Artair was no longer there to protect him.

Alistair had always wanted to be a man just like his father. Even then. Even now.

“I promise, papa!” Alistair told his dad with a wide grin, earning one of those deep, rumbling chuckles from his dad as white teeth appeared in the forest of fur that covered his face. Artair picked up his son, a small Alistair shrieking in delight as he was placed on one sturdy shoulder.

“That’s my boy. You’ll be a proper tank in no time.” Artair declared. Alistair hadn’t realized the look in his father’s rich brown eyes was sadness, regret, until he looked back on the memories much later.

Artair had known he would never see his son grow up, become the protector he’d promised he’d be. All he could do was try to impress on the young mind of his only son to become a good man who would protect those he loved, and hope his lessons withstood the poisonous influence of his mother.

Alistair hoped he had become a man his father could be proud of.

He thought he was.

He just wished Lili could’ve met his father. He thought the two would’ve gotten along, that Artair would’ve taken in the haunted and hurt Lili without a second thought. Artair had been a man with a heart as big as his muscles, a reason why he was such a beloved man amongst his employees. Lili had deserved to have a father like Artair, not Frederick, who saw his children as nothing more than things to use.

“Better do it before they decide to run into that warehouse half cocked and die, despite using a beacon to call for help.” Alistair decided as he stood, cracking his neck and back with a satisfied groan.

It was getting suspicious that so many incorrect assignments were being sent out. A couple of assignments being wrong was normal, as they couldn’t always depend on the reports from outlying villages. But so many? No, this was something else.

Emyr had already converted an entire wall of his room into what Lili called a ‘conspiracy board’, complete with red string Lili had given the mage with that mysterious smirk on her face. He’d started tracking all the incorrect assignments they knew of, trying to locate a pattern. So far, they couldn’t figure anything out, but the increasing frequency was starting to send shivers of fear down his spine.

Currently, no students had died, but how long would that be true?

This one was worse than some of the other wrong assignments they’d seen or heard about. Had these students attempted it, they would have been the first casualties.

From what he and Emyr had heard from the third years, they were only supposed to be attacking a small time gang. This was no small gang, it was an entire organization spanning multiple cities. From the information the third years had gotten, it was, in fact, a human trafficking organization, at least. But there were far too many high-level criminals working there for such a small and under-leveled group to handle, on top of the hostages.

Alistair could hear the students still talking, and he knew Emyr could as well, likely waiting for the perfect opportunity to pop in and scare them half to death.

Emyr nodded and stepped back into the shadows, melting away. Alistair sighed with a small smile. So they were going for dramatics then? Oh well, he could play along since it made Emyr so happy.

There was a time when I loved being the center of attention, drawing eyes. When did I change so much that I don’t even care? Was it when I discovered who my mother was and realized all the petty worries I had were inconsequential? Was it when I had to order the deaths of villagers for breaking the law? Or was it when the attention I used to crave turned toxic in the wake of my mother’s crimes being brought to light? Alistair wondered idly as he let his aura roll out, [Aura Of The Protector].

Aura skills were the quintessential skill every person got at Rank 4, but unlike other quintessential skills, they didn’t have a cool down. In fact, it was quite the opposite. They were abominably hard to control.

Class S had dealt with a lot of impromptu fights when they all started reaching Rank 4 and struggled to control their auras.

Auras debuffed others with lower Magic or Energy control levels than the caster and increased the caster’s own stats. If you didn’t put a lot of Mana or Energy into your aura, they mostly just alerted others to your presence, or if they were too low leveled, could freeze them in place. Generally effective for dealing with a bunch of dumb teenagers. Alistair knew Vereign had used his plenty enough times to deal with class S over the years.

The six students before him froze as they felt his aura before they jumped up, grabbing weapons as they turned to face him. Alistair strode confidently through the doors of the abandoned building they were hiding in, like he didn’t see them as a threat. And he didn’t. They might be only a year younger than him, and there might be six of them, but doubted they’d be a threat even if they all attacked at once.

“We got your beacon. Looks like you six are in over your heads,” Alistair said in greeting as he came into sight.

He could feel them identifying him, [Perception] a dull alert in his mind that he easily ignored. He was well known around the Academy and seeing his name might ease their worries. The stench of fear was so strong in the building he could almost taste it. This was probably the first time these students had been confronted with a situation they were clearly too weak to handle.

“Alistair Rosengarde?” Sor’gozan Tigdron, the leader of the team and the tank best Alistair could tell, asked incredulously.

“Their reaction time is a little slow, but seems their heads aren’t entirely empty,” Emyr called out from the shadows, nearly scaring the students out of their skins as they jumped and spun, looking for the hidden mage.

Alistair snorted lightly and placed a hand on his hip as he shook his head. Emyr always waited for the perfect moment to make his presence known, usually when he knew it would frighten his targets the most. The moment when all six students’ attention was focused on Alistair had been too tempting for the lurking celestial mage.

“With your reflexes and perception this low, your professors would be disappointed. We’ve been watching you six for over an hour,” Alistair chided, and he grinned when he saw several faces flush darkly in embarrassment.

Had they been this self-conscious and silly just a year ago? Alistair could hardly remember. Sometimes he didn’t feel like he’d changed much from that fourteen-year-old who had been too scared to love his own sister, treating her horrendously out of fear and not hatred. Then sometimes he looked at the younger years in the Academy and saw the chasm separating them from him and was confronted with exactly how far he’d been forced to climb.

When compared to his sister, he so often felt he’d hardly grown, but looking at these children, he couldn’t even remember ever being that weak.

Was that what power did to you? Make you forget being weak? A slow creep that gradually erased the memories of who you’d once been?

“We’re sorry sir, we’ll strive to do better.” Tigdron bowed his head towards Alistair, though his eyes were flicking about, trying to locate Emyr.

“It’s fine, you’re all young, you have time to improve.” Alistair waved a hand as he approached, looking towards a patch of darker than normal shadows.

“Emyr, get out of there and stop harassing the kids,” Alistair ordered. He could hear the mage suck his teeth in annoyance but he stepped out of the shadows, his dark clothes making it look like the shadows continued to cling to him.

“You ruined my fun.” Emyr told him petulantly as he walked to Alistair’s side, staying slightly back, almost in Alistair’s shadow.

“Alistair Rosengarde and Emyr Bealstal? Holy shit.” A voice whispered in quiet awe. Alistair thought it came from Alicia Talclair, the fire mage of the group. She likely looked up to Emyr. He was well known for his proclivity for setting things, and people, on fire.

“Now we think we’ve got all the details from listening to your scout’s reports, but if you’d be so kind as to hand over that map of the facility they’re hiding in, we can handle this. You six can remain here. We’ll send the prisoners to you and you can take them to the guard.” Alistair spread his legs slightly, shoulders thrown back as he used his ‘commander’ voice, as Mari liked to teasingly call it.

The six third years stood up straight unconsciously, responding to the commanding nature of his tone and, likely, his aura, which was still surrounding them. Unlike the aura of a damage dealer, his aura was less inclined towards smothering or crushing others unless he saw them as enemies. For those he saw as allies or those necessitating protection, he’d been told it felt like they were being wrapped up in a warm hug.

“Um, sir, are you sure we can’t help you? There’s only two of you…” Tigdron trailed off as he looked between the two of them, audibly gulping. Alistair turned his head slightly and saw the maniacal grin on Emyr’s face.

He’d been hoping they’d be able to get through this conversation without traumatizing the kids. Seemed that was a failure.

“We’ll be fine. Should have this branch of the organization down in no more than an hour. But it’ll be hard to get it done if we’re worried about where the prisoners are going. So you’ll be helping us a great deal if you can take care of them. If you tried to fight with us, you’d just be in the way.” Alistair shrugged, apologetic. But it was true. If they tried to help in the fight, he’d have to worry about protecting them from damage rather than just keeping attention on him and off Emyr.

He saw the way several of the student’s faces darkened in anger and shame. The truth hurt, but it was necessary for them to hear. Hopefully, they’d take that shame and realization of how weak they were and use it to fuel their progression. Nothing pushed someone better than seeing how outmatched they were.

Alistair knew it kept class S going, seeing Lili climb so high. He’d heard professors discuss how their class was the strongest class S they’d seen in decades, and he knew it was all because of Lili and his class’ unwillingness to fall behind her. All of them wanted to match her, and more than one of them wanted to be able to finally beat her.

“Here.” Tigdron pulled a map out of his storage and handed it over, face set in a scowl as he glared at the floor.

Alistair gave the students an encouraging smile, but he knew it would do little to soothe their wounded egos. Well, they’d get over it or they wouldn’t. He wasn’t their teacher, they weren’t his concern further than making sure they didn’t die trying to take on something so far out of their level.

Alistair looked over the map, noting the guard rotation, the number of people in the facility, and the location of the prisoners. Looked like they were pretty far in. They’d need to be fairly stealthy until they got the prisoners out, or risk having the criminals use them as hostages to stop their attack. Alistair checked the time against the guard rotation.

There would be a guard change soon. If they took out the new guards, it would be several bells before anyone noticed their absence. Emyr wasn’t an assassin class anymore, but he was stealthy enough to handle it. If they took out the guards, Emyr could slip in undetected and get to the prisoners and escort them out. It would take a while, but once they were out, it would be simple enough to raze the building and everyone in it.

The guard did have dead or alive bounties on this organization, so Alistair didn’t think they’d mind if their corpses were singed.

“Got it. Emyr, we’ll take out the guards once they switch over and then you’ll head in and get the prisoners out. I’ll direct them back here and you six will handle treating them and holding them for the guard. Once all the prisoners are out, we’ll take it down. No one gets out, got it?” Alistair handed the map to Emyr, who poured over it and nodded his head when he had the layout memorized. The six students nodded as well, albeit reluctantly.

“Alright. Let’s head out. We have some scum to clean out.” Alistair said cheerily, voice hiding the anger he felt licking up through him.

Human traffickers were the worst of the worst, and Alistair wouldn’t see a single of them leave this night alive. The dark chuckles he heard from Emyr as he vanished back into the shadows told him that he wasn’t alone in the sentiment. Or maybe Emyr was just excited about a chance to let loose. It was hard to say.

Terrifying. That was how Lili always referred to Emyr, and Alistair thought it was an apt descriptor. But sometimes it took a nightmare to take down another nightmare.

Alistair shoved away the misgivings and foreboding he felt at discovering yet another incorrect assignment. He’d report it to the Academy and Liliana when he returned. As he headed out of the abandoned building, he focused on his objective.

Blood would be spilled tonight, and he would revel in it. He might be a protector, but for those who stood against him, he was nothing more than the sword of judgement coming to strike them down for their sins.