Chapter 1443: Squad Members

Northern tilted his head.

"As I’m feeling quite generous today, I won’t tear your head off your neck."

He said it looking down at Iren, and released his grip. The pompous noble dropped, slamming onto the ground, his horrified expression glued to Northern’s face.

He was the fastest man within these walls, even the Commander had commended his speed Talent, and how matchless it was. And yet this stranger, whoever he was, had caught him. Iren shoved himself half-upright, palms grinding into the dirt, and what set his jaw hardest was not the fall but the face above him: the man didn’t look a day older than the rest of them.

Northern ignored the stare and glanced at the others.

The moment his gaze swept over them, the line shifted — a slight discomfort working down it, boots scuffing into place, hands drifting to the smalls of their backs, spines pulling straight one after another.

"I am Rian Artemis. I’m a Sage, and I will be leading this Squad to victory. I care little for what any of you think of me. I have the strength to lead, and that is what should matter. If any of you feel dissatisfied, challenge me openly. I’ll shy from no challenge. Just be ready to pay the price. Not every day will I feel as generous as I do today."

They glanced at him and gulped, one after the other. A few faces had already begun to glisten with sweat.

Among them stood certain soldiers who stood out and they had stood out earlier, too, when Northern was bent over their files.

He gave a disarming smile and said:

"Alright. I’d like to know you all. Starting with you."

He pointed to the lady at the front of the column, just beside Iren.

She took a step forward and saluted, sharp and vigorous.

"Sir, yes sir. My name is Baletta Fransca! I have no nobility affiliation, but I hail from the north, and I wish to eradicate the threat that has persisted for generations."

Cascading silver hair, crystalline blue eyes, she was an almost ethereal beauty that sat in striking contrast to the sculpted physique of someone forged through relentless discipline. Every inch of her powerful frame, from the broad shoulders to the carved muscle across her arms and stomach, spoke of overwhelming strength held in easy reserve.

"What’s your talent, and how does it work?"

She hesitated, then spoke evenly.

"I can create explosions. As a Drifter rank, I can control the distance of the explosion I cause. There are other uses too. I can propel myself with one, for instance but that comes with its own damage, so I have to be very careful."

Northern nodded, and his gaze moved to the person behind her.

It was a boy with tousled blue hair hanging over half-lidded amber eyes, giving him the look of someone perpetually exhausted and yet impossible to catch off guard.

Without much enthusiasm, the boy lowered himself and pressed a hand to the ground. The moment he did, his skin changed, the soft give of it hardening into the dull, gritty brown of packed earth, all the way up to the wrist.

"My name is Han Thessa, no affiliations. My talent lets me take on the property of whatever I touch."

Northern looked at him.

"How long can you hold it?"

He answered grudgingly. "Until I run out of essence, and that varies with the strength of the property. For something like this, I can manage about an hour. Something stronger halves the time."

Northern kept his attention on the boy.

"Are there things you can’t take on yet?"

Han nodded.

"Yes."

Then Northern’s gaze slid to the next person in line.

This one had raven-black hair tied into a loose bun, a few unruly curls framing a sharp face, and molten eyes that burned with a quiet intensity. He carried a brute, athletic build, and there was something rebellious in him yet he stood the most composed of all, his gaze measured, betraying a remarkable self-control.

"Doron Viccus Elmondrion. My talent is Shadow Soul. It lets me pull a black fog from my soul, one that smothers all five senses. As a Master, my attacks strike harder inside that fog, while my opponent’s are dulled to almost nothing."

Of course Northern knew of him. Something about the man brought to mind that damned Shadow Fog, perhaps the history of his talent could be traced back to the perversion of that creature. Still, he was the strongest soldier Northern had been able to get his hands on. A Master, where the others were only Drifters.

He gave the man an accepting nod and moved on. The next was a girl.

Black hair, half-lidded eyes, a loose and easy expression, all of it lending her an effortlessly striking look, the kind of beauty wholly unaware of itself. She had a lean, athletic figure, her warm-toned, alabaster skin catching a faint white sheen.

She smiled and met Northern’s gaze.

Meanwhile Northern was already looking rather displeased, suppressing it as best he could.

"I’m Tema, and I can talk to plants and animals..."

She said it still smiling, looking quite proud of herself.

Northern stared at her in disbelief for a long moment. Then he sighed, and turned to the last person in the column.

This one had unruly green curls falling across a youthful, freckle-dusted face, and sharp green eyes set hard with resolve. He bowed, respectful, as he answered.

"I’m Jalsket Delchran."

He hesitated, glancing at Northern before forcing the rest out. "I can change the color of my hair."

His green hair shifted to black, and then back to green again.

Northern went on staring at him, longer than he had at any of the others, until the boy looked away, cowed by the hard set of the man’s face.

Then Northern brought his attention to the boy kneeling in front of him.

"Your name."

Iren was still on his knees, face down. From that position, he answered.

"Iren of the Blue Orchid House."

Northern shook his head. Weird names, these nobles... didn’t that Pyrrhus fellow come from a house like that?

He studied Iren for a moment. Now that he looked closer... yes, they shared the same striking features.

Northern fought down a grin. Guess the shitty personality just runs in the family, huh.

"And what is your talent?"

Even after the question landed, Iren did not answer at once. A dozen seconds crawled by. Then, finally, he gave it up anyway.

"I’m fast."