The grunt of his voice as he pressed his cold hand over the window caused many to move away from the man. He was clad again under the metal mask and so his outward appearance looked like that akin to a seasoned knight. Yet in reality he was a criminal, simply posing for the image that he felt "shook" or would intimidate the others but also blend him into the environment; a fair combat tactic. Even if he wasn’t as scary as he was, the glimmer and glow that the white metal provided further escalated that fidgety feeling others would get when engaging him. It was like a panic which welled within their hearts. Triggering them to hesitate; something the uprising swordmaster could abuse when others could not. A significant piece of his brilliant tactics, see, characters like Erebus Cassiel were born to be innovative and take control.
However Erebus was simply a shadow. For the one named as Strategist was his villainous alter ego, the one who’d grown famous out in the world. Or rather-- was beginning to grow famous. It bothered Strategist little to kill others, where under the ego of Erebus, such a murderous feeling was not in top priority. The mask represented Strategist. The man under the mask; his husk. The Lycanthrope was strange in that way. He didn't suffer from multiple personalities, or any of those illnesses. Merely, he could adopt different patterns. Would a crazy man do that? He was unaware. But he knew his skills were testaments to his ability.
Not long ago he’d dropped Kaidou’s teachings to reassure himself of his powers. He was no man to linger and be patient, not when he felt the aroma of sweet victory around every corner. So it became fairly obvious he’d continue to go forward. Without The Southern Star to train him or not. In reality, he actually thought it better to do his own thing. It was his story, and he wished for it to be his story. His, no one else's… Just like revenge was his dream. Just like he’d make that dream a reality. Era was Erebus’s home prior to going rogue and becoming a mercenary under Grimoire Heart. Who’d have guessed it, he’d be preparing to attack the town in nights to come. Surely not his family, right?… Or his old friends? Or maybe they all had a feeling he was going to come. A lot of times, Erebus was predictable to them. But had time dulled their senses? He was willing to place jewels it had.
So what then…
Here he was, taking in the sights before all of it was leveled. Standing in front of a bakery at midday. He liked this store, this shop was his first job. Hm. He needed to get away, it brought a sense of guilt that he didn’t fancy all too keenly upon. From there, Strategist’s body turned to look out in the direction of a mountain to the other end of Era; he felt as if he were drawn back to it. He was like a bee, the mountain like a budding rose. It beckoned him to go pay homage. How was it that Erebus could sense this place disrupting his emotions? It angered him, but it fueled him to go forth anyways. So that’s exactly where he went-- he marched for it sternly. His weapon sheathed on his back, in a long red holster, The breezes picked up his helmet’s long tail of snowy hair. While he made off to visit the rocky monument, his attention drifted from many sights and people.
Time passed… He walked it's path up the hilly outer rims, sighed upon his entry, moved through the trees until he overlooked a twenty meter area that ended over the side of the mountain. Then, in that very same open space; the tall Lycan made his way over until he was staring out over the cliff side, admiring the town. It was annoying really. A shitty town, but a beautiful view. Guess he had to give it some kind of credit, after all. He came here didn't he?
"Era is like hell, the sooner it goes down in smoke, the better."