He had watched, in silence, a decent distance off and careful not to interfere. Only when it was done did he step forward, speaking--to Peach Scone, first. "The touch of Chaos will fade within its stone." Maybe she would understand; maybe not. But hey--he'd tried.

"Perhaps it has learned," he offered to Onyx-Three, as it ended. His tone, despite its typical hollowness, held some faint approval in it. Sparring was good; even the slightest scrap of lesson learned could be used to better one's combat skills. "It bore a strange form. Soft. Pliant." He considered, with a tilt of his head. "The Sentinel noted: V-Onyx-Three changed its strategy." He studied his spawn, pointedly and thoughtfully, for a moment. "It found this creature agile. Difficult to strike. And it turned to magic. This is good. It is good to be... adaptable." A single nod: approval, deep approval, acknowledgment of the child's swift change in tactics to suit the situation.

It was good.

Beyond that, he simply returned to the Aperture, there to guard in silence.