Surprisingly, uncle Dorthna was more than happy to let Melmarc go on the excursion. He didn’t even give it much thought.

Melmarc asked when he got home, Dorthna tapped his cheek with a finger for all of two seconds and said yes.

“What about mom and dad?” Melmarc asked.

He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, whatever that meant, but suspicious was suspicious. And he knew suspicious when it answered quickly.

Dorthna waved the question aside with his usual nonchalance. “I’ll deal with them. Besides, what makes you think they’ll say no?”

“Because they’re not around. And they tell Ark no all the time.”

“Well that’s Ark. Ark’s always trying to go somewhere. You, on the hand, never go out.” He tapped his cheek again with a single finger. “Come to think of it, I’d bet my last dollar on them being happy to hear you have an interest in leaving the house for more than a day… How long’s this school trip going to be?”

Melmarc shrugged. “Maybe a weekend.”

Honestly, he didn’t know. The one the school had organized last year had gone on for a week, and parents and legal guardians had been required to fill some forms. He was merely making an educated assumption.

“Makes sense,” Dorthna mused. “The one your brother went for two years ago was like what… two weeks?”

It had been two weeks. And Ark had loved it. He had made his relationship with his girlfriend official during the trip. Other fun things had happened but that one was Ark’s personal highlight. His favorite.

Melmarc had prepared a whole argument for this conversation. Now he was stumped. He hadn’t expected it to be this easy.

The rest of the conversation was quick. Simple. He had questions and Dorthna had answers

Who was going to sign the forms? Good ol’ uncle Dorthna.

How was he going to sign it? He was their legal guardian.

How was he their legal guardian if their parents were still around? It was a Delver thing, he wouldn’t understand.

What if the school also didn’t understand? He knew his parent’s signature.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that while Dorthna wasn’t an irresponsible adult. He wasn’t exactly a straight-laced uncle.

He did teach Ark how to pick a lock.

The weeks before the trip were eventful, in a manner of speaking. Ark’s excitement at being gifted remained through the roof throughout, and when Ninra was told of the update, she was genuinely happy for him.

“I guess being Spitfire’s favorite pays off,” she’d said, eyeing the little demon. “Kinda had to, because there’s no way I would suffer all those bites.”

As for Spitfire, the little thing remained a quite menace.

At some point Ninra speculated on what would happen if it gave all of them powers. Melmarc would be lying if he said the idea didn’t stay in his head for longer than was healthy.

But it wouldn’t be possible. They were sure all the biting had something to do with getting powers, and Spitfire bit only Ark. Every other person might as well be alive to occupy space as far as it was concerned, and it continued to remain that way.

As for Ark, uncle Dorthna developed a bit of a schedule for him. He would wake up in the morning and they would go on a jog. Melmarc and Ninra joined in on it if not for anything but a chance at the morning air.

For the first few minutes, Dorthna would keep pace with them, then he would increase it, forcing Ark to keep up. The entire thing was for Ark after all. In a matter of minutes, Ninra and Melmarc would be left behind.

Being a Demon Lord had given Ark a few physical boosts that left him easily above human standards… or at least above the physical standards of a seventeen-year-old. And since uncle Dorthna had already told them it was to be expected, Melmarc tried not to let it get to him too much.

Ninra quit after just a few days, but Melmarc continued the morning runs. Why? Simple stubbornness. He could so he did.

After the morning runs, uncle Dorthna would give Ark some time to rest. He’d made it clear that the schedule was for Ark even if Melmarc tagged along.

Then he would take them in his car to a place just outside their neighborhood. It was a few blocks away, located in an area populated more by gyms and training areas than anything else.

The first time Melmarc saw the place, he knew its purpose.

It was a large building, squared and boring, like a cardboard box. It had a single door that led inside through the front and a single door that led out through the back. There were no windows to let the sun in or peep out of.

The inside was just as mundane as the outside. It was a wide hall with steel colored walls. The flooring was made of something Melmarc didn’t know. It didn’t feel like concrete, and it wasn’t wood.

When he knocked it, it gave no sound. The walls were similar. Where the floor was quiet and soundless, the walls were a bit off. He wouldn’t call them soundless, but they didn’t make noise.

It was as if they transported the sound somehow. When it was hit, it would give a light thud, like something falling on a pillow. Then it had a little oomf that would travel along the walls until it stopped existing.

The first time it happened, uncle Dorthna walked up to the wall and gave it a light knock of his own.

“Fiber glass,” he’d said. “Distributes impact and sound until its technically nothing. Think of it as a stealth, everything-proof wall.”

Melmarc knew fiber glass. It was one of the materials that came out of portals. There were stones of different kinds, and materials that were used for different things. Some of these things were magical, and others were simply a bit more advanced than normal.

Ark had jumped a few times, then stamped his foot on the ground. “And this?”

“Same thing.”

“But why doesn’t it make any sound, while this,” Melmarc knocked the wall, “gives a little.”

“More areas to distribute the sound to. The flooring literally distributes the sound downwards until it hits the foundation and just runs into the ground. You can kind of hear the wall because it’s being distributed along the four corners. But you don’t hear the ground because it’s traveling all the way down. By the time most of the sound’s gone, it’s too far for you to hear.”

Melmarc looked around the wide, empty room. It was lit by LED lights on the ceiling. “No pillars.”

Dorthna nodded as Ark looked around in confirmation.

“No pillars. They would defeat the purpose of the room.”

Melmarc nodded, then turned his attention to one corner of the room where a simple boxing bag as tall as the average man was resting.

“So, I just go and sit there?” he asked.

“I don’t think it will be that bad, but farther is always better.”

Ark was already stretching, loosening himself up.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Melmarc and their uncle watched him for a while before Melmarc finally turned and gave them some space.

The hall was a training space that wasn’t necessarily abandoned, but was simply rarely used. The building had no locks on the doors and there was nothing to steal from it.

According to Dorthna, there was at least one in every state left for general use. Their purpose was for the Gifted to learn their skills in safe environments. At least those that couldn’t afford high end facilities.

Since the number of Gifted often found in a town were always on the low side, and the Gifted generally made good money, it was rarely used. So normal people did visit it from time to time for one reason or the other.

But its main purpose was for the Gifted.

Here, uncle Dorthna supervised Ark’s understanding of his skills. It was quick. It was simple. And they always went at it until Ark could go no more.

Breath of Fire was exactly what the name suggested. When Ark opened his mouth, he would let out a stream of fire that shot forth somewhere between three to ten feet. The farthest he’d recorded was twelve feet, and that had been pushing it.

When asked, he said it felt more like a Strength based skill than an intelligence based skill that depended more on mana. It was like using a new organ and depended on how much air he could hold in his lungs.

It did drain his mana, but that was nothing unexpected. All active skills drained mana. There was yet to be a Gifted that claimed they had an active skill that didn’t.

The skill Will of Hades was a bit different. It gave fire resistance to a degree. They tested it with a few things. A match stick lit under his arm, and a lighter.

Ark’s take on it was that he felt as if he was simply being touched with a finger. There was pressure but no heat. It also felt the same way when he used Breath of Fire. Like something was touching the inside of his mouth. It wasn’t ticklish, it was just present.

Dorthna had nodded.

“That sounds cool. But don’t go thinking you’re invincible around fire. It’s heat and fire resistance not immunity. I’m sure if the flame is hot enough, it’ll do damage. Magical flames will definitely hurt, but maybe not as much as it should.”

It turned out that Will of Hades had another use, though.

After stopping by the training spot a few times, Ark found out he had a certain level of fire control. At first he’d thought it was simply the flame of the match stick or lighter flickering, but it was not.

To be sure, he’d need a larger flame source. Their burner at home was the going choice.

A few days before the school trip, Melmarc sat at the backyard with Ark.

The evening was cold and they had their jackets on. Ninra was somewhere in her room doing things girls her age did while uncle Dorthna was out. He said he was going to get some groceries before leaving.

Ark and Melmarc sat watching Spitfire. The garden was covered in snow Melmarc was sure Ark was supposed to have handled when they came back from his training today.

Spitfire danced about in the snow, not bothered by the cold. If it was, it at least wasn’t showing it.

“You know you really shouldn’t be worried,” Ark gave him a gentle look.

Melmarc took a moment to look away from Spitfire. “Worried?”

Ark nodded.

“Worried. I’ve known you your whole life. Do you think I can’t tell when something’s bothering you?”

Melmarc nodded, then looked back to Spitfire. The creature was rubbing itself in the snow like a cat. It wasn’t purring though.

In the past few weeks it had grown a tiny bit. But it’s horns were now more pronounced, curving upwards from both sides of its head. Each was a deep black, making a sharp contrast to it’s orange skin.

With the horns it was beginning to look like a proper baby demon. It was kind of funny how they hadn’t noticed it.

“I’m just saying,” Ark continued after a while. “We’ve already established that the whole two Gifted parents only get one Gifted child thing is whack.”

“I thought you believed in it.”

“I did, when I thought you’d be the one getting powers.” Ark shrugged. “Then I got powers and went to look it up, really look it up.”

Melmarc’s brows furrowed at that. Ark wouldn’t read anything unless he had to. He’d read school work, but only when there was a test or an exam. Apart from that, the only thing he ever read were comic books.

Melmarc would’ve sworn Ark didn’t even read sign posts.

“Anyway,” Ark dipped his gloved hand in a lump of snow close to his leg and gathered a handful. “Even if it was true, it wouldn’t still count in this instance.”

“Why is that?”

“Because if we’re being honest, I’m not the Gifted child.”

Melmarc disagreed. “You do have the powers, though.”

“Also not true.” Ark held a molded snowball in his hand now. “Well, not technically true. If we’re talking about me having powers. Bitey over there,”—he pitched the snowball at Spitfire—“gave them to me.”

Spitfire abandoned whatever it was doing. In a display of predatory skills it never used, it leapt into the air and bit into the snowball, shattering it on impact.

When it landed, there was snow all over its head and it gave a full body shake to scatter it.

“The Demon Lord’s contracted Demon prince,” Ark chuckled. “Still kind of dreading telling dad.”

Melmarc had almost forgotten about that. It had been about two weeks since Ark had gotten his powers and their parents hadn’t returned from their deployment. He hoped they were alright.

They always came back. But sometimes he remembered the night their mother had almost died without even being deployed, and he worried.

“The trick is having uncle D with you, or preferably mom. That way you get only the face, and none of the words.”

“You think he’ll be disappointed?”

“Nope. Worried, maybe. But not disappointed. He knows people don’t get to choose their Class. And he already knew Spitfire was a demon and didn’t tell us. So, if we’re being unfair, it’s kind of his fault too.”

Ark laughed. “Let me see you tell him that when he’s got a full expression on.”

“Very funny. Sorry to break it to you, but I probably won’t be there for it. I’ll ask Ninra to make a video if she’s still around. Maybe she can post it. Call it ‘Demon Lord meets Demon Dad.’”

“Wait.” Ark adjusted so that he sat facing Melmarc. “What do you mean you probably won’t be there? Are you eloping with some girlfriend I don’t know about?”

“What do you mean? I’ve got the school trip thing to attend, remember?”

“Oh, right. The school trip.” Ark readjusted. “I completely forgot about that. You never go for those, even when I ask you to tag along.”

“Because your class usually goes for their own field trip. And as much as I care about my big brother—”

“Just say you love me, Mel. No need to be shy about it.”

Mel smiled. “As much as I care about my big brother, I’m not going to be seated on a bus with a bunch of his classmates. It’ll be awkward.”

“Why?”

“Because what do I say to them? That you help me with my math homework, and I’m on a trip with them because my brother wanted me to come?”

“Maybe.”

“That will be lame. We’ll resume next semester and your classmates will spread rumors about how you have a lame younger brother with no friends.”

“They probably wouldn’t,” Ark disagreed. “They know I have an itchy trigger fist.”

“Don’t you mean trigger finger?”

“Nope.” Ark raised his hand in a threatening fist. “I mean an itchy trigger fist. It’s always cocked and loaded. Just waiting.”

“Is that your IED talking again?”

Ark grinned. “Maybe.”

“You really shouldn’t go around hitting people just because they deserve it. Sometimes Delano deserves a good punch when he opens his mouth but you don’t see people hitting him all the time.”

“True.” Ark mused. “I’ve heard him talk, and I’m always in awe of how he doesn’t have a broken nose. Or a missing tooth.”

In front of them Spitfire was eyeing one of the flower beds. Melmarc wondered if they should be bothered. It looked as if it was gauging the distance between itself and the flower bed. It had never rushed into them before, but for all they knew it could pick this moment to realize it’s also got Breath of Fire.

“But really, though,” Ark said, drawing him away from his thoughts. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. There’s some guy in Japan with the ability to see the future and he’s got like eighteen children with four wives. Twelve of the kids are gifted so it’s obviously not one Gifted child to Gifted parents. I heard all his wives are Gifted, though, so I’m kind of surprised they all agreed to marry him.”

Melmarc had the answer to that. “They’re all not very strong. I think the strongest one got a D-rank Class. Off the top of my head I think it was the Chef class. She’s really good with a knife, but I think her skills only activate when she’s in the kitchen.”

Ark winced. “I guess that’s another thing people need to worry about. Imagine getting a class that allows you blow perfect bubble animals.”

“I’m sure one of the Sculptor classes should have that.”

“I guess the person would be really fun at parties.”

Ark stared back out into the snow filled garden.

“Mom and dad could always have another kid,” Melmarc said after a while. “That could be their Gifted child.”

Ark snorted. “You’re sixteen, Mel. If your parents wanted to have another kid, I’m sure they would’ve had it by now. I’m pretty sure you’re the only brother I’m getting, and Ninra’s the only sister we’re getting.”

They sat together for a little longer while Spitfire continued to play in the snow, and with the snow.

Melmarc appreciated what Ark had done. His brother always had the wildest faith in him. It was a nice thing to know, and it made him smile just a little bit as they watched Spitfire. It gave him some hope.

But hope was a dangerous thing.

“Can you watch Spitfire for me for a little bit,” Ark said after sometime, getting up from the back porch. “I need to go get a comic. I love you, but just sitting with you and staring’s getting kinda boring.”

He went up to the back door and paused.

“Also, just putting this out there, but don’t go getting any skills while I’m gone.”

Melmarc laughed. “I’ll try my best.”

“If you must, and you do, please make sure it isn’t something boring like Swordmaster.”

Melmarc looked at him, appalled. “Swordmaster’s a cool class. Not that I’m saying I want it.”

“No, it used to be cool. But now it’s just boring. Everyone’s just getting knife classes. Swordmaster. Knight. Samurai. Everyone’s using sharp tools now, so it’s kind of generic. Maybe try and get the Basher Class. Now that would be terrifying. Demon Lord and Skull Basher working side by side.”

Melmarc stared at his brother and chuckled. “We sound like super villains from one of your comics.”

“No. We sound like cool super villains from one of my comic books.”

Melmarc nodded. “I’ve got it. Now go get your comic book before I change my mind and leave your pet out to freeze to death.”

“Our pet,” Ark corrected, then darted inside.

With Ark gone, Melmarc turned back to keep watch of Spitfire. He found the demon staring at him.

It just stood there, on both hind legs like a human, forward legs down, like a cat’s. It was staring at him.

“What?” Melmarc asked, scratching an itch on his stomach through his jacket. “Was it something I said?”

The itch grew, and he scratched it some more. It worried him a little since it had been over two years since his scar had itched him like this.

Must be the weather.