I Became A Zompirewolf

Everyone was stunned, from the guests to the mercenaries. Even Mazton had no idea Flitmace would do such a thing. Being a Xyran meant he would live a long life, so why would he name an heir so soon?

Flintmace had been the Tower's President for more than two centuries, and during that time, he had never shown any interest in finding an heir, let alone randomly announcing one.

As the attendants slowly came to terms with Flintmace's decision, not everyone was happy—especially those who had been eyeing the spot for quite some time.

Despite Reaper's achievements, he was still a novice in the industry! How could Flintmace so blatantly appoint Reaper as his heir without consulting with anyone?

"Even if he has the right to do so, it doesn't mean the rest of us shouldn't have a say in it."

In reality, they could complain all they wanted. But their words won't mean shit. After all, most attendees were more than pleased with the news and even if they weren't, who in their right mind would challenge Flintmace?

Even those with a teensy bit of intelligence realised Flintmace's true intention behind appointing Reaper as his heir.

The bounty on Reaper was still live, and even with the protection of the Orion empire, the Tower and the Gold water, the threat was still very much real. Some Phantom fanatic might pop up and take revenge on Reaper for killing a 'righteous' man.

By making Reaper an apparent heir, Flintmace had eliminated the possibility of an attack on him, at least the attacks motivated by money.

While Ashton could still be killed, no one would be bold enough to claim the bounty as it would reveal the person who did the deed. Even if the person claimed the reward, they would not live long enough to enjoy the fruits of their actions.

After all, killing the Tower's heir would spark a war, and no one would want to go against the Tower's army. Not after what happened the last time someone challenged the Tower.

In other words, anyone who hurt Ashton with the desire to claim the bounty would feel the wrath of the entire mercenary world because Reaper was now the 'crown prince' of the mercenaries.

Although everyone had their opinions, Ashton had no idea what was happening. But even then, when Flintmace offered his hands, he accepted and was guided to the stage.

"That said, I realise Reaper still has a lot to learn, and till the day he's confident in his abilities, I'll continue overseeing the Tower." Flintmace continued with a beaming smile.

"In the meantime, I'll urge Mazton to prepare Reaper for his role so when the time comes, he'll be a competent leader for all of us. Don't worry; I'll be around for a long time to ensure my beloved successor smoothly transitions as your leader. That's all."

Surprisingly the crowd broke into cheers once again. The ones in Ashton's support far exceeded those against him. As such, those not happy with Flintmace's decision could only bite their tongues and witness everything unfold.

As for Ashton, well, let's say he and Astaroth were having quite the conversation—a conversation where both of them were utterly clueless.

***

A few hours passed since Flintmace's announcement, and the celebrations were over. While everyone had retired to their rooms, Ashton and Mazton went along with Flintmace as there was a lot they needed to talk about.

Flintmace's quarters were located at the topmost floor of the Tower. Despite being the association's vice president, even Mazton had only been to the top floors a handful of times, and each time it had been a time of crisis.

That alone signified the importance of one being invited to the upper floors.

[Be on guard.]

'As if that's gonna help.'

Ashton was firmly trapped within Flintmace's vice grip. Had he wanted to, Flintmace could quickly end him, but after what he did during the ceremony, Ashton believed Flintmace had other motives.

What motives?

He wasn't sure of it, but it certainly didn't involve killing each other. Hopefully, his questions will be answered soon.

"Have a seat," Flintmace casually waved his hand, and lounges appeared out of thin air, "now that we're comfortable, ask away!"

Ashton glanced towards Mazton, unsure if he should reveal his biggest secret in his presence. It seemed Ashton was thinking out loud because the moment his eyes lingered towards Mazton, Flintmace smiled.

"Don't worry about him," he said, "my dearest Mazton already knows about Astaroth and you."

"You don't look surprised," Mazton chimed in with a smile.

"Honestly speaking... nothing about you two surprises me anymore." Ashton shrugged, "But I- we would like to know how you know about our... arrangement."

"I was hoping you would ask that," Flintmace sighed and disrobed with his back turned to Ashton, "I assume this would be enough to walk your memory, General."

Ashton immediately noticed the wide gash on his back, right where Xyran's wings should have been. Other than the apparent wound, Flintmace's torso was covered in at least a hundred smaller ones.

Between those wounds was a tattoo that Ashton had seen before, but for his life, he couldn't remember where until Astaroth spoke up.

[Mark of Heavenly Liberation? Why don't I recognise you-]

"Your memory is still hazy, general. Truthfully, I'm surprised you remember the mark of your army at all, haha!" Flintmace chuckled before covering himself.

"Wait, you can hear him?" Ashton asked in horror.

"Only if he allows it," Flintmace replied before thumping his chest thrice and slamming the ground with his right fist, "Major Flintmace, reporting for duty, sir!"

[Xyran salute... I never thought I'd ever be on its receiving end again. Flintmace... I have heard of the name before. Wait, aren't you the seventh son of the archangels?]

Flintmace nodded, "Yes, sir! Although my loyalty towards you forced the council to exile me."

"So that's why your wings were taken away?" Ashton mumbled, to which Flintmace nodded.

"Luckily, I survived, but I'm afraid the rest didn't." Flintmace sighed, "After you were branded as a traitor, we refused to point arms against you, General.

"Your entire army was either exiled or executed on the spot. My punishment was much lighter than the rest due to my status as the seventh son... the rest were not so lucky."

[Mace, I-I apologise for my transgressions. My irresponsible actions caused all of you much pain...]

"Not at all, General." Flintmace grabbed Ashton's hands before continuing, "If anything, your actions revealed the true face of the Xyrans to us! There's nothing you need to apologise for!"

Ashton voluntarily stepped out of the driver's seat so the Xyrans could continue talking their hearts out. As they kept chatting a lot about Xyrans and their history was revealed to him, things that Astaroth's blurred memories had blocked out.

According to Flintmace, out of Astaroth's ten thousand soldiers' strong army, only forty-nine people were exiled, and the rest were executed on the spot.

Anger rushed through Ashton's veins the moment he heard about the atrocities everyone supporting Astaroth had to face. Hundreds of thousands were killed because they refused to believe someone like Astaroth could betray their kind.

"I'm aware you want to take revenge against them, General, and please ignore my harsh words, but... you're pathetically weak to do anything to them as you are." Mazton finally said, "We need to get you stronger than ever."

Flintmace nodded, "Mazton is correct, sir. That's also why I chose your host as my successor, as it would allow us to train him without raising suspicion."

"Train me!?"