Meeting with the emperor’s entourage was a bit… anticlimactic. At least, this is how Leon saw it. His day had been going so terribly, that he had assumed that there would be some sort of dramatic and overwhelming conundrum when grabbing the bishop. To his surprise, the trek to the entrance was quick and painless. Leon tried to relax and recognize this as the good fortune it was, but he couldn’t help waiting for the catastrophe to show up.

When nothing happened on the walk back to August’s room, he was becoming more and more on edge. This was too easy, he felt, and they were proceeding far too smoothly. By the time they made it back to August’s room, he was ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. Though he was aware of the surroundings, and the purpose behind his movements, his mind was back in that place. He could see the world in front of him, but his mind was back on the islands.

The emperor said nothing, though he had noticed Leon slipping back into himself. He also pacified the bishop who had joined them on their journey. As they arrived at August’s door, Hadrian had to hold back a laugh. What greeted the trio was the sight of a grown woman, her son in her arms, and a dinosaur sticking out of her pocket. The sight took the other two arrivals aback and shocked Leon out of his stupor. Unable to deal with the absurdity of the situation, Leon placed his head in his hands and sighed.

“Hello, Sora.” Leon said to Sora the Sauropod, “I hate to be rude, but would you mind letting me see my son and Star?”

Sora poked his head forward until he was face to face with Leon. The dinosaur met his gaze, and slowly, stuck his tongue out. Though its tongue was relatively immobile, it was able to produce enough of it to jab forward. Performing an amalgamation of a lick on a disgruntled Leon, Sora chuffed what could only have been a laugh, and disappeared back into Astarte’s pocket.

“Oh, he likes you, Leon!” The emperor said, his insufferable giddiness apparent in his tone.

Refusing to acknowledge the emperor, Leon walked towards his wife and son. Realizing his spell was still active around the boy, he quickly undid his spell work. Once the mana dissipated back into the atmosphere, he quickly drew the excess water from both Star and August, as well as the bed. Dissipating it back into the atmosphere, he ran over to hug his son tightly.

“Are you ok, Augie?” Leon asked, “How are you feeling?”

“To be honest, Dad, I have no idea how I should be feeling. Everything is so bright and loud.” August replied, his voice hoarse from crying.

At this, the emperor stepped forward, putting a hand on Leon's shoulder. As the duke looked up, he met Hadrian’s gaze. Seeing the request in his emperor’s eyes, he struggled internally for a moment. Finally, he acquiesced, relinquishing his grip on his son.

“Hello, August. I have wanted to meet you for so long. My name is Hadrian, and I am your great-grandfather. I need you to focus on the sound of my voice, can you do that for me?” Hadrian spoke softly, his tone soothing and reassuring.

August focused on the man’s voice, letting all else fade away. As he did, he felt a strange darkness overcome his senses. His eyes which were once blinded by constant radiance were now diminished, and no longer overwhelmed. His ears which were previously filled with a cacophony of noise, now returned to a bearable volume. Even his mind felt slower, as if his very thoughts were being limited.

August looked up and finally opened his eyes again, taking in the sight of his great-grandfather for the first time. The older man was tall, broad, and heavily muscled. He had the visage of a warrior, with the body of a hulking beast. The largest oddity, however, was his eyes. Rotating silver symbols sat on golden pupils, amidst a backdrop of red. His eyes were so much more than that of a barbarian, they held knowledge and wisdom that left August breathless.

“I used a spell to impede your senses. Normally, this spell is used for combat purposes. Right now, however, it is being used to adjust your senses. As you get your bearings, the effects will lessen, until you can finally handle the changes.” Hadrian said, putting a hand on August’s shoulder.

The relief August felt was indescribable, he finally felt like himself again. Taking a deep breath, he looked at his father. To his surprise, his father’s expression changed from joy to shock when meeting his gaze.

“August, where did you get that mark?” Leon asked, stepping to stand beside Hadrian. He reached out with both hands, placing them gently on the sides of August’s head. Moving the boy’s head slowly, he examined whatever mark he was referring to closer. He then glanced at Hadrian, who had a strange look in his eyes. Upon hearing the odd question, Astarte moved to examine him as well. When she did, she audibly gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

“August, would you mind explaining what happened to you while you were unconscious?” Hadrian asked lightly, that odd look still held firm in his gaze.

“Yes, sir,” August replied, launching into his story to the best of his recollection.

***

“To be honest, August, you are in a pretty precarious situation,” Hadrian spoke finally, after contemplating the circumstances hoisted upon the young boy.

“Whether you would become Oberon, or simply explode from the incongruity of his power and your own, there is no way to tell.” He said, “Either way, the endpoint would be your death.”

August felt that statement like a strike to the stomach, the air being drained from his lungs in an instant. He had known from the way Titania spoke that this was likely. His hope had been a different perspective from his family, a way to turn this around. To be told he would die, or at least no longer be himself, threatened him on a fundamental level. He wanted to rage, to cry, to shut his eyes and pretend it was a bad dream.

“But what about the bloodline being muted, doesn’t that mean the system will prevent such a circumstance from arising?” Quacksworth chimed in from the corner, causing all eyes to turn to him.

“What I mean is, the notification stated that his bloodline would be muted until he could sustain it. Doesn’t that mean that it can’t affect him until he is strong enough to survive?” Quacksworth queried again, though he was a bit more hesitant under the weight of their gazes.

“In a sense, yes. The system has assigned a value he would have to fulfill for his bloodline to be freed. This value will be his level, which is the system’s way of determining one’s strength. This is where the problem lies, as the level is only an indication of someone reaching a specific amount of Xeno-Potis, or Xeno-Potential. This is usually done through combat, learning, training, or even meditating.” Leon explained, stepping in to answer the question for both Quacksworth and August, who had regained some fire from the question.

“When you were in my unit, I had you do a lot of different things to train. This wasn’t me punishing you, but rather me ensuring you had the power behind the levels you would gain. Level is merely indicative of a marker reached, not how you reached it. You can slay magical beasts as a mage with simple system skills, and consistently level up just using the same thing repeatedly. Would this mage be the equivalent of a magi who had trained through a tower?” Leon asked, crossing his arms across his chest while he stared at Quacksworth.

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“Well… no, probably not. If he never learned how his magic worked, or how to fight other mages, he would be a sitting duck. His powers would be limited, and while he might be great at whatever skills he had leveled with, they would still be system skills. He also wouldn’t have learned to expand his mana-core without training, or how to properly cycle energy.” Quacksworth responded, though understanding still clearly eluded him.

“He would have the level, but his personal power would be lacking. Leveling grants stats and skills, but that is all. This is why power disparity exists, as level is only one part of the equation of personal strength. If, by the time August hits the target level of the muted bloodline, he isn’t strong enough, he won’t survive. We see this happen when a beast fails bloodline purification. The process of purification is to acclimate the body of the beast to the power. Failing purification is just another way of reaching a certain threshold without the necessary power.” Leon continued to explain, and both August and Quacksworth finally had realization dawn upon them.

“If I don’t have the personal power to back up my level when I reach that point, the bloodline will overpower me.” August said, “Can’t I just not level?” He asked, hope again evident in his voice.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. Doing anything to improve yourself will grant you Xeno-potential, or XP. The amount varies by activity, and how actively you are trying to improve, but you will passively level up just by living your life.” Quacksworth answered this time, though his voice betrayed dread.

“This is why, when training us, the duke always said it was for our own good.” He quacked solemnly.

Getting up from his chair in the corner, the Duck-kin quickly came to join the huddled group. His mannerisms betrayed his obvious disdain for the training he had received. Isaac followed Quacksworth, who intended to take the opportunity to give August a once-over.

“Exactly right! Simply training will not be enough to save August, however. The bloodline awakening will be like pouring molten metal into a vessel. If he is weak like glass, he will shatter. August will need to not only train, but to earn Titles and Achievements to boost his innate strength if he is to live.” Hadrian chimed in, taking control of the conversation.

“This is where I come in! By now, most of us have probably guessed that the flower on his face is the Mark he now bears for Titania. Having the Mark of the Fairy Queen is probably not going to help matters if he is to try and survive this.” Hadrian continued.

The man then held an arm out, creating a small golden plate in his palm. The plate was ornately carved, and the center was a pool of churning golden metal. He pulled the plate back to himself and dipped a finger from his opposite finger inside of it. The metal stopped churning, transforming into a brilliantly clear reflective surface. He then held the plate aloft for August to examine himself.

August took the moment to look himself over, something he had not done since dressing himself that morning. His face was pale, his hair the same stark black as his father’s, though now sporting a smattering of violet and yellow. The colors were strewn throughout his stygian mane as small, iridescent sparks on a pitch-black night. His eyes were their same deep emerald green, matching his mother’s. His youthful appearance was marred by a trio of blooming flowers, dotted underneath his left eyes. The flowers were the same combination of glowing violet and yellow that adorned his hair.

“As things stand, without intervention, August won’t survive,” Hadrian said, the finality of his statement hanging over the room, sucking the air out of it.

“Luckily, not only am I the best Great-grandfather ever, but I am also the emperor. I had already planned on Marking August before this chain of events, now I have an exc- I mean a legitimate reason.” August’s great-grandfather jovially announced.

He produced a piece of paper from his jacket, and with an exaggerated flourish, handed it to Quacksworth. The paper bore the personal crest of the emperor, a downward-facing sword, the hilt of a lantern holding a phoenix. The golden insignia sparkled and shimmered, as ostentatious as the man who stamped it.

“Take this to Rolph, and assist him with whatever he needs to make it happen. Thank you, Pekin.” Hadrian said, before shooing the shocked duckkin away.

Quacksworth rushed out of the door, heading to the party as quickly as he could waddle. In his haste to obey his emperor, he failed to realize that he could move much quicker using his magic. So, waddle he did, the echo of palmate feet padding across the marble floor fading into the distance.

Turning back to the frightened boy, and his stoic parents, Hadrian flashed a small smile. He recognized that his next statement would be rough for both Astarte and Leon, for various reasons. He was not an evil man. He was a loving father, who cared for his family deeply. He was also the emperor, the leader, and the bastion for hundreds of millions. Sometimes, he could not be both.

“Granting August my Mark, should he choose to accept it, will erase the one that Titania placed on him. Honestly, mine is probably weaker than hers, but with less strings attached. That is not to say that mine has no strings.” The emperor said, his tone robbed of its usual frivolity.

“If he takes my Mark, he will become an asset of the Imperial Military. The Mark is a strategic resource, as it is a portion of my power, granted to another. This is not something I can hand out lightly, and August would become a strategic asset himself. I know that this will not sit well with either of you, especially you, Leon. I beg of you, however, to consider this.” Hadrian stated calmly, his face passive.

Leon looked at Star, a glance between them enough to carry their intentions. Astarte grasped Leon's hand, squeezing it firmly. Nobody spoke for several minutes, until finally, Leon sighed heavily.

“You want to make him a soldier. You know what my father did to me, what he… what I was put through. I promised myself that I would never, under any circumstance, do the same to them. You are offering to do what I promised I never would.” Leon said finally, his voice tight with myriad emotions.

“I will not put August through the same things you went through, just what is necessary Leon,” Hadrian assured; his voice likewise tight. “Until he is old enough to join the Imperial Academy, he will remain here with your family. I have already started lining up potential trainers for him.”

“Leon, I love you, but I won’t let August die,” Astarte spoke for the first time since Hadrian announced her youngest’s possible fate. “He is our son, and right now, this sounds like the best option he has to survive.”

Leon gripped her hand tightly, his internal struggle obvious. He looked down on his son, his youngest, his first child since the end of the war. He resolved himself as much as he could, and finally, he capitulated.

“What must be done, must be done. August, I love you with everything I have in me. I trust Hadrian, and if he says this will save you, then he means it.” August’s father told him, before wrapping him in an embrace.

Hugging his father back, August resolved himself too. He was so lost, so overwhelmed, but he trusted his father and mother. If they thought this was what he needed to do, then he would. After all, he was a Castellane.

Pulling himself from the embrace of his father, August moved forward to stand before his great-grandfather. Not knowing how to act in the unfamiliar situation, he chose to bow and kneel on one knee. Hadrian smiled at the uncomfortable young boy, choosing not to tease him for his mannerisms.

“With your decision made, I shall offer you my Mark. Do you, August Trajan Castellane, choose by your own power, to serve as my bearer? Do you choose by your own will, to be my hand in all things? Do you swear to carry my Mark, in both action and spirit?” Hadrian Aurelius the Third asked, placing a hand on August’s forehead.

A gold light cascaded from the emperor, fanning over the both of them in swirling waves. His voice echoed oddly throughout the room, as if coming from the very land they stood on. August’s eyes glazed over, receiving a new system notification.

System Notifications

You have been offered the Mark of The Aurelian Empire.

Would you like to accept the Mark of the Aurelian Empire?

Yes / No

Warning: Already Bears a Mark.

If the accepts, their current Mark will be erased.

Will you accept the Mark of the Aurelian Empire?

Yes / No

Focusing with the entirety of his will, August chose to accept the new Mark.

System Notifications

Congratulations: You have been Marked by the Aurelian Emperor, Hadrian Vitus Aurelius the Third.

Warning: has lost the Mark of the Fairy Queen

Notice: An Item {Knowledge of the Fairy Queen – Mythic} has been removed from your inventory.

Notice: The Fairy Queen has been notified.

…

The Fairy Queen has chosen to send you a message.

The Fairy Queen: I’ll be seeing you soon, August.

Well, August thought to himself, that probably isn’t good.