Theron had chosen two new techniques.
The first was [Water Wrap], a control method that used tentacles of water to restrain opponents. At the Entry Boundary, it could only be used with force and speed because the tentacle itself would be too intangible to maintain steady contact.
At the Proficient Boundary, the outer skin of the technique would be more substantial and could thus be used to restrain and limit the actions of others with greater ease.
Beyond this, the true strength of the technique could begin to be displayed. Depending on the intent of the Mancer, it could flow into a more focused control method or an extra attacking and defensive method.
Much like most techniques, the end result would be dependent on the user upon reaching the Consummate Boundary. Though… most would never step beyond Proficient.
The second technique was [Water Scythe]. It was an additional attacking method—sharper, faster, and far more lethal than [Water Bullet], not to mention having a wider range. At Adept, it could be as much as three meters across, making it quite the quasi area-of-effect technique as well.
Theron was a bit slower to improve with [Water Wrap] as it was still stuck at Proficient, but he had already brought [Water Scythe] to Adept. The principles that built it were too similar to [Water Bullet]. The process of concentrating water, taking advantage of its density, and using speed to cut through things…
It was the same thing on another level.
[Water Scythe] was actually a Mid-tier technique, much like [Water Wrap], while Theron’s other three methods were all Low-tier Bronze Resonance techniques.
In truth, most would pick just three techniques at most per Mancy level and give their all to them.
Theron, however… saw the world very differently.
With his blades by his side, he would walk his own path.
But first, he needed to get his father’s blade back. It didn’t matter how long it took or what he had to sacrifice.
This life of his wasn’t his own.
**
Theron appeared in his Daggers of the Night living quarters.
It looked exactly the same, but he knew this wasn’t the location he was used to. The headquarters had most definitely been moved even though the entrance method had been the exact same as always.
“Please proceed to the hall. Congratulations on surviving.”
A voice echoed from a dirty mirror to the side.
Theron hardly reacted to it, simply nodding. His hood over his head, he strolled out and into the eerily familiar halls.
…
One would have thought that their last headquarters had been transplanted here. Even the curves and markings on the wall were identical. If not for his sharp intuition, it was hard to fathom if Theron would have realized it at all.
Soon, he had made it to the hall.
“001 reporting,” he said calmly.
“Of which year?” The very same lazy old man behind the desk asked calmly without even looking up.
“Them all.”
The old man paused, his eyes narrowing. He slowly looked up.
“I don’t have time for games, child. Next time you report yourself, state your title properly. I’ve seen three 001’s in the last week, and you are among the last to arrive. Don’t think yourself to be special.”
After every recruiting cycle, code names would be given. These code names would come in the form of numbers assigned by ranking of performance. Obviously… 001 referred to Theron’s placement as number one in his cycle.
Normally, he went by River.
His code name was 001 ’997.
It was obvious that for the sake of this culling, reporting this code name was more important than anything else. It was the way they would register who returned and who died.
“Merchant Greycoat’s killer,” Theron replied calmly.
The old man opened his mouth as though he was about to lose his cool, but then he paused. He looked at the blue eyes shining through Theron’s cloak, and his lips slowly closed.
“The young these days are truly arrogant,” he finally said.
Shaking his head, he lowered his gaze back to whatever he was reading and then ignored Theron. Clearly this was his way of saying he had now registered him.
Theron, however, didn’t leave.
“I’ve noticed something about you, old man,” Theron said.
“I’m busy.”
“You’re always here, and you don’t react to much,” Theron continued unbothered. “But I’m also pretty sure that you aren’t in Silver Resonance. And if you were a normal Gold Mancer, I would be able to sense it. So, why is it that I cannot?”
“I do not have unlimited patience.”
“I need the protection of someone like you,” Theron continued, as though the old man’s words were going in through one ear and out the other.
“I’m just a desk jocky.”
“You’re also an assassin that shows your emotions a bit too easily, which is odd, because like I said, you don’t usually react to much. When I first handed in the Merchant Greycoat mission, your reaction was also clear on your face. That either means one of two things: either you have no right to be here, or you’ve grown to a level where you can truly blend into society—a mortal amongst mortals.”
The old man set his book down and looked up at Theron.
For the first time, Theron felt a cold chill.
“Would you like me to kill you right here and now, child? Do you not understand the words I am speaking? Buzz off.”
“No. What I would like to understand is why a talent like me was almost killed at the hands of a Silver Mancer who should be a senior to me. Is rule number one of the Guild something you wipe your ass with?”
BANG!
Theron stood in place, but the sturdy desk almost shattered to pieces. Fine cracks raced across its surface, splintering into one another and fusing.
Seeing Theron still standing there, the old man’s aura vanished into thin air and he slowly stood.
“Alright,” he said lightly.
He tapped the desk, and an alarm was raised.
Disputes amongst assassins were rare. Normally, as their profession called for, such things would be handled in the dark. Someone like Theron almost never appeared.
But since he had proclaimed such things so boldly, out in the open, and with so many witnesses…
Well, there was no choice but to trigger a Daggers Call.