In his life, Melmarc had heard a lot of surprising things. Nothing too great, but there were enough surprising things in his life to go around.

In fact, most of the surprising things he’d heard had come from Ark and Delano. Ark having surprising things to say wasn’t that big a deal, at this point Melmarc was used to it. He often attributed it to the fact that the kind of person Ark was led him to do things that led him to interesting points in his life.

Thus, the things he knew and experienced were always strange as far as Melmarc was concerned. For example, he had a girlfriend named Freda and Chioma. And he called her Freda or Chioma.

It was an odd thing that he’d done it so much that Melmarc now genuinely called her Chioma or Freda. Most people just chose a name for their friend and stuck to it.

The second source, Delano, was mostly on account of his love of being a conspiracy theorist. Melmarc always felt that was more than enough of an explanation as to why the boy was chock full of surprising things.

That said, Melmarc turned to Naymond at the Sage’s words, as confused as he had ever been.

“You know my dad?” he asked.

It wasn’t necessarily the words that held his attention but more of how they were said. They sounded personal.

He remembered when Naymond had stopped calling him Melmarc and had started calling him Mr. Lockwood. According to Naymond, the decision had been made when he knew who he was.

Back then Melmarc hadn’t taken the words too seriously. Now, however, he wasn’t sure he should’ve handled it the way he had.

Melmarc’s parents worked for the government but not in some simple capacity. They weren’t very important from what he knew, because very important people who worked for the government had some form of protection or the other. Ergo, someone like Naymond couldn’t have run into them in any capacity capable of giving his words such a personal note to them.

Melmarc didn’t see a mathematical possibility that allowed a felon turned consultant know his parents that much.

And even if there was one, why would that lead Naymond to calling him by his last name instead of his first name?

“The ring,” Naymond simply said. “It’s dying out.”

Melmarc’s mind stumbled and he focused his attention back on his hand, turned it once more. The ring had been fading into nonexistence but it was good again now, sorted.

He couldn’t keep this up, though. [World of Insight] was a good skill, but with [Rings of Saturn] active, it wasn’t as good as it was supposed to be.

“How do you know my dad?” Melmarc asked, doing his best to keep his voice calm, dispel his confusion.

He didn’t like how flustered Naymond’s words had left him.

It’s everything, he told himself. You’ve spent too much time here.

Melmarc wasn’t entirely sure if his thoughts were right. As a child, his therapist had kept their sessions going a little longer because she’d claimed that while he showed no signs of trauma, there were people whose minds worked in different ways.

She’d theorized the possibility that his mind was like a conglomeration of countless tiny metal balls with a magnet at its core that held everything together. Personally, Melmarc had thought it was a poor analogy but had never said anything on it.

The therapist explained that the magnet was something strong, and no matter what happened, his mind categorized all events as the same event. Yes, there were scales to the events, some being greater than others, but that his mind was one that always felt itself capable of handling any single event.

She believed the event of the Player’s attack had not been affecting him as much as it had been affecting Ark because his mind had taken the single event and chucked it somewhere in the recess of itself where all his stress went to die.

She said if that was true, then she couldn’t help him. That while it wasn’t healthy in the long run, there was nothing she could do about it.

So their therapy sessions had gone on longer. A month longer than Ark’s.

In the end, she’d given him a full bill of health.

According to her, he had a strong mind that dealt with stress better than most people’s. Apparently, his problems were only problems as far as they were problems in the specific moment. His mind didn’t have lingering effects from the Player’s attack because it was over and the Player was gone.

His father had told him that the Player was gone and his mind had accepted that nothing could be done about it.

“Mr. Lockwood.”

Melmarc moved his hand instinctively.

“Not the skill,” Naymond said. “The skill is good now. You just look odd.”

Melmarc nodded absently.

What had his therapist said about how his mind worked? A single event wasn’t going to faze him so he was good. Healthy. But everybody had a breaking point, he just needed to look out for his.

That he was doing good after such a devastating effect didn’t mean that he had a powerful mind. That wasn’t how the mind worked.

Melmarc’s hand moved instinctively to his stomach, rubbed at the scar, and found it wasn’t there anymore.

His hand froze.

Something was wrong. Not the scar but something else. The missing scar was a problem he would have to deal with eventually. He remembered having it before entering the portal but hadn’t been paying enough attention to it to remember when exactly it had stopped being there or how.

Why am I so fixated on how he knows dad?

The thought played in his head. It was a big deal but he didn’t think it was that big of a deal.

The same way you’re always fixated on everything that happens to Ark.

Did he have a fixation problem?

Yes, he was fixated on everything that happened to Ark but that was because Ark had a way of getting into different kinds of trouble. Melmarc had to ensure there was nothing wrong with the situations Ark got himself into.

Right?

Ark had brought a random animal he’d seen somewhere to the house. He’d known the creature was definitely a problem and he’d brought it. As far as Melmarc knew, people bringing strange things home mostly happened in horror movies.

Then he became a Demon King.

“And he hadn’t even been worried,” Melmarc muttered to himself.

“Mr. Lockwood.” There was a mild touch of worry in Naymond’s voice.

Melmarc could hear it, but for some reason it was distant, currently unimportant.

Why had he been all over the place with worry when Ark was perfectly fine? He’d thought his response was the healthy reaction to knowing that you were now the Demon King. The negativity was right there in the name.

Ark was the one that was strange for not being bothered. Right?

Then there was also the registration, how he’d been extremely worried by the fact that someone else was about to learn about Ark’s class.

Was his constant worrying what was unhealthy?

He didn’t worry this much about Ninra or uncle Dorthna, though.

They weren’t at home when we were attacked.

Neither had his dad.

But he’d never worried that much about his mom, though.

Because she’s an adult that can take care of herself. She fought the Player and survived even when we thought she would die in the hospital.

Melmarc paused. Now he was suddenly aware of the fact that he had been walking. He was also aware of the fact that Naymond was still talking.

Melmarc shook his head. He didn’t like what was happening. His therapist had said minds worked in different ways, and while she couldn’t prove it, he probably had the kind of mind that caved under enough battering, like normal peoples’ minds.

If he was bombarded with enough stress over a short period of time, he could have a mental breakdown.

Melmarc chuckled at the thought. He’d been stressed for almost two weeks, but no, it wasn’t enough to break him down.

But Naymond knowing his father was what was going to get him done in?

He almost laughed out loud. It was unreasonable. He was a healthy boy. His therapist had given him a clean bill of health.

Yes, with enough stress anybody could break. That the doctor said you were totally healthy didn’t mean you could not fall sick later on.

But this was outrageous.

Somewhere in his head he realized that he couldn’t hear Naymond any more. The man’s voice seemed to have grown distant, then nonexistent.

I’ve got a normal mind, he thought. Oddly enough, it sounded as if he was convincing himself that he had a normal mind.

There wasn’t enough confidence in the thought.

I’m just stressed. I’ve been on my toes since I got here. I’ve been killing things and staying alive.

Melmarc took a deep breath. It came out calm, not rushed.

If he was having a mental breakdown right now he wouldn’t be bothered by it. With everything that had happened to him, he was supposed to have some kind of mental breakdown. It was totally fine.

What was triggering his current state of mind--and he wasn't sure he was ready to admit that he was having some kind of mental break down--was what he was having a problem with. It wasn’t that big a deal that Naymond knew his dad, was it?

It couldn’t be.

There was a sound to his right, heard in the same way you would hear someone stagger into something.

Melmarc turned and his hand was already moving. The weight on his hand lightened as the ring of mana crossed the distance to embed itself into the head of the [Damned].

It was a perfect aim. Precise.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Melmarc couldn’t have made a better shot if he had a sniper rifle.

Yes, this is why I’m here, he thought. This is the problem at hand.

He activated [Knowledge is Power] ignoring the notification that told him how much [EP] he now had and how much the [Damned] had given him.

He continued walking even as the skill reached out around him. Somewhere in his mind he knew that he was invulnerable in this moment. Right now was the safest he could ever be.

When a [Damned] burst out of the room to his left, he was already fully aware of its presence. It came swinging a plate where its hand was supposed to be.

The plate slapped Melmarc with enough force to turn his head. Pain filled his mind, heavy and strong. It stung horribly and he thought he heard his neck crack.

For the briefest moment, his mind forgot about all the other things plaguing it and focused on the pain. It was only for a moment, though.

Melmarc turned to the [Damned] in response as it was spinning in its action and tackled it into the wall. They struck the wall in a loud thud and Melmarc held its face against the wall.

He could feel it straining against his hold.

Such a fight was disadvantageous to him. He doubted the [Damned] could feel pain, and he couldn’t damage it right now. So all he could do was pin it down and wait.

He stepped away from the creature and kicked it in the chest. It bounced against the wall before falling down to the ground and Melmarc hurried. He sat on it, straddled it so that both his knees locked its hands down.

[World of Insight] told him that there weren’t any other monsters near by even as [Knowledge is Power] returned to him.

He kept the creature pinned down, waiting.

For some reason, [Knowledge is Power] was taking too long.

Melmarc waited patiently and to his surprise, deprived of its limbs, the [Damned] started jerking. Its head jerked towards him, teeth snapping in an attempt to bite him. It was too far away to be threatening but it got his attention because it was the first time he was ever seeing a [Damned] use another form of attack besides their constant leaps and strikes.

A part of him had thought it would just lay down and take whatever he gave—

The burst of mana hit him and Melmarc’s brain snapped to attention.

There was nothing else to think about but the problem in front of him. And the problem in front of him was still struggling.

He twirled his hand, activated [Rings of Saturn]. He made to throw it and realized they were too close. He'd only ever thrown his rings of mana. Unwilling to think too much about it, he improvised and punched the [Damned] in the face.

His fist dug a hole.

With his fist buried in the creature's face, the ring of mana started dying out so Melmarc was forced to take his hand from it and resume the motion of twirling it to keep the ring alive.

You have slain [Damned (C)]

You have gained +59 [EP]

Melmarc dispelled the notification before seeing the total [EP] he now had. There were two indicators left in the entire building that were above ground level and he needed to take care of them as well if he wanted him and Naymond to be safe. As long as he hadn’t run through all his rings of mana, [Rings of Saturn] would not run into a cooldown stage.

If he had one left, it would remain one left until he used it. He wasn’t sure why, but it was something he would look into once he was done with everything.

What exactly everything was, was still up for debate. It could be securing this building. It could be closing the portal.

It could be verifying how Mr. Hitchcock knows dad.

It was funny that despite what had just happened, his mind still found a way to remain hung up on that single issue.

He spared the corpse beneath him one final glance before getting up from it. It seemed the weight of the ring of raw mana somehow added to his attack power. He continued to learn something new every time.

Standing in what was or had once been a hallway, Melmarc looked to the crumbling ceiling and let out a long sigh.

Two more, he thought.

Either they’d gotten another [Damned] or his counting was poor. Whichever the case was…

All I have to do is kill them.

For some reason, there was nothing daunting about the idea.

It was a wrong feeling, an odd feeling. Melmarc knew that he would sit and contemplate on how horrible the feeling was eventually.

But for now…

…He liked it.

…

Naymond rested tiredly against the wall worried that something had broken in Melmarc. He wasn’t sure which to be more worried about, that it was from spending too long alone in the portal or the fact that realizing that he knew the boy’s father.

Naymond had frozen the moment Melmarc had asked him how he knew his dad, but it wasn’t the question that had frozen him, it was the boy’s form.

Every Gifted had a form, even Oaths.

The way forms worked was that he everyone had them. In the simplest form of explanation, forms were like scents. They were always there, very small but there for anyone who looked. When they activated their skill, their forms acted up first. Moved.

Any Sage who was paying attention would see it. It was how Sages survived. They watched and waited. Then they moved once their opponent’s form informed them of the activation of their skill. For Naymond, he was a more superior Sage as far as he was concerned.

He had a skill that allowed him manipulate that very form to turn the effect of the skill in a different direction. He didn’t necessarily turn the skill on the user, instead the skill allowed him make the skill backfire.

But that only worked if he used it just before the activation. S-ranks had the shortest time between the movement of their form and the activation of their skills. Oaths had almost no time delay between both actions.

Melmarc had zero time delay.

And that scared Naymond.

It left him with too many questions. What exactly had happened to him since getting to the portal to make him an abnormality.

Worse, his form merely came alive with the skill, and it was vastly different from what he remembered about it.

Was it the process of going through the portal? Naymond knew the form of portals and refused to believe there was any way people who went through portals weren’t affected by it somehow.

He had watched a portal’s form turn a normal person into a puddle of water. It even acted on any Gifted nearby, it merely worked different—as if the Gifted were somehow immune to whatever the effect was meant to be.

But they were certainly not completely immune.

The watchers inside the portals—as he liked to call them—were the one thing that made him know that the portals worked on anyone who stepped into them.

There was a reason no one had ever heard about them in their world. Calling the idea of speaking of them a secret was a very very vast understatement.

[World of Insight] showed him as Melmarc tossed his ring of raw mana into the head of one of the creatures. Killed it in a single move. Not for the first time he wondered what life would’ve been like for him if he had gained a more combat class.

There would’ve been no forms or extreme intelligence.

It wasn’t really a thought at this point. If he was offered that, he would take it without hesitation. His life as a [Sage] wasn’t the fun most people thought it was.

When Melmarc turned and activated [Knowledge is Power] Naymond braced for the feeling that was known to come with it. The discomfort of lending someone something you just knew you would not get back even if you would rather not get it back.

He watched the form of Melmarc’s skill come for him even as the boy tackled a monster into the wall without hesitation and no expression on his face.

When the form got to him, Naymond paled. His heart slowed and fear took him by the spine.

What the hell?

He twitched in an instinctual attempt to escape the form but kept himself in place so that he didn’t aggravate any of his injuries.

Naymond stiffened, waited and hoped all it would do this time was take a skill from him and nothing more. He was reminded of fear once more from the sight of it.

The form blew past him, a soft caress he couldn’t feel going past him before disappearing. Naymond wondered why he could see it. Forms didn’t work this way. They always remained on the Gifted, never leaving them. Never going far.

He wondered what it meant that Melmarc’s form was working alongside his skill now instead of staying with him.

There was also the possibility that it wasn’t just working alongside the skill.

What if it’s reaching out?

The thought worried Naymond. There was only one form he knew of that reached out.

What the hell happened to him?

His thoughts were still working around, wondering how best to explain himself when he inevitably ran into Madness. The only work he had left to do was talk Melmarc out of trying to clear the portal, and he didn’t think that would be too difficult.

He’d talked a man out of believing the color blue was blue before, he was almost certain he could talk a young boy out of going on a suicide mission.

Melmarc’s skill went through him, giving him that annoying feeling and [World of Insight] showed Naymond the sight of Melmarc smash in the head of one of the creatures he’d pulled down with one punch.

Naymond was beginning to wonder if it really was going to be a suicide mission if the boy decided to try and clear the portal alone.

It’s a C-rank portal and he’s B-rank, he thought. Maybe he can do it.

Naymond dispelled the thought immediately.

Children shouldn’t be in portals.

But how was he going to stop Melmarc? What if the boy decided to turn around and simply leave him here? If Melmarc had figured out how the portal works when it came to injuries and knew that once they cleared out this building there would be no monsters coming here, then he could simply turn and leave.

I haven’t answered the question of how I know his dad.

Naymond paused.

Now that he thought about it, Melmarc was giving a completely wrong reaction to the information.

There was no way it was so big of a deal that he’d get angry enough to walk out of the conversation and go fight monsters, right?

Which begged the question of just how much Melmarc knew about his own father.

What if Madness’ kids don’t know?

That was another thought Naymond refused to accept. Madness and War were the only Oaths that were married to each other. He knew maybe three more Oaths that were married but their significant others weren’t Oaths.

Even now people wondered what the effect of two Oaths procreating would be.

Suddenly, Melmarc’s question came with a burden. It was a burden that pressed on Naymond’s mind even as Melmarc crushed in another monster’s head in one blow, flattened it against the wall in a single strike.

The boy had practically become a hunter of the creatures. Naymond wasn’t sure how good that was in comparison to how bad it was.

On one hand the boy had shown adaptive skills that had turned him into the hunter in a world where he was supposed to be hunted. On the other hand, his method was too cold and detached. Empty.

Right now he moved as if he only killed the creatures because he could. Nothing else.

As he watched Melmarc walk up to the last creature as if what was about to happen was simply inevitable, Naymond started making his calculations and was left with a single question.

Madness and War got married as Oaths, and Oaths were the most enigmatic Gifted, more enigmatic than the rare SS-rank Gifted.

What were the chances that as their son, Melmarc had somehow inherited something from his parents as Oaths?

After all, what he was witnessing Melmarc display right now was the calm collected decisiveness Madness displayed at all times.

What if Oaths actually passed down their traits to their offspring, given the right circumstances?

Even as the thought crossed his mind Naymond thought it was ludicrous.

But is it?

Melmarc walked back into the room with the same empty expression he had worn when he’d left, the same empty expression Madness always had.

With it, the resemblance was striking.

Naymond was also reminded of his second most important problem.

What did Melmarc really know about his parents?

And how much was he allowed to tell?

If he said too much, he could definitely get into a different kind of problem with Madness. You didn’t tell a man’s child a secret belonging to them when they were keeping it away from said child. It would open up an entirely new can of worms.

Especially when said dad can kill you with one punch.

Melmarc stood in the room, quiet. He wasn’t even looking at Naymond.

“Gotten everything out of your system?” Naymond asked before he could stop himself.

He would say his big mouth would one day get him into trouble but that would be an understatement of the year. His big mouth always got him into trouble.

Melmarc’s response was calm and collected. It was also empty.

“How do you know my dad?”

It was truly a heavy question. But Naymond could top it with a heavier one.

After all, how did you explain to a sixteen-year-old that their form was now, suddenly, very similar to the form of a portal.

…

Alfa ran a worried hand through her hair as she paced around the room.

There were only detectives in the room now while the uniformed officers kept the entire house secured. The only consolation she had was that this had actually not escalated into a PR madness.

The press had stayed just long enough to not see any Delvers coming to attempt the portal and had concluded that it was of a low rank even though the police had quite literally released a press conference a few days ago stating the rank of the portal and the government had concurred with them.

“You really should calm down, babe.”

She turned to her husband, the only other person in the room that was not supposed to be in the room. He was well dressed with a simple clean hair cut and no beard, just the way she liked it. His arms were folded over his chest and he and he was resting his back against the wall.

Alfa knew she should calm down. Once again, her husband had come through for her, saved her ass when she needed saving.

Barely five minutes ago a team of C-rank Delvers had gone into the portal fully geared and everything.

From what she knew, they were actually Delvers that were not supposed to be entering portals at this time, not because they were banned or anything like that, but because they were on leave from Delving.

“You’re sure all of them are good to go?” she asked not for the first time. “They can work together to achieve success.”

The Blight nodded. “I’ve worked with some of them on different occasions. You can put any of them in a new team they’ve never been in before and they’ll adapt.”

Alfa nodded, assuring herself as best she could that everything was finally going to be alright now.

Nan and all the detectives under her had failed to reach any family member, which would normally be a bad thing, but was a good thing in this case.

When she’d told them to stop trying, there had been confused expressions going around but they had accepted her instruction despite the absence of any explanation.

And I didn’t even need to say it was an order from the top.

Sometimes it was odd how they just followed her instructions whenever she gave them.

The mentorship program had ended a few days ago and everyone had been given their pass and sent back home, but Alfa knew for a fact that the [Warrior] and the African girl whose name continued to elude her were still in town. Why? She had no idea.

She was just glad that none of the other mentees had run into any accidents during the duration of the program.

Now they were running against time. Melmarc’s family would know that he was supposed to be back and that he was not. They would start trying to make contact and someone would have to reach out to them and deliver a well placed explanation that would not step on the toes of any Oaths.

The last thing she wanted was to be explaining what she knew she shouldn’t be explaining to someone she was far too many ranks too low to be explaining to.

Not for the first time, she let out a very tired sigh. The annoying part was that all the sighs did was make her feel much worse.

Again, she ran a tired hand through her hair. This was going to be the end of—

“Hey!” someone said from the stairs. “You can’t be here?”

This wasn’t the first time someone who wasn’t supposed to be here was trying to be here. Regardless, every time Alfa heard the sound, she jumped a little in her skin, because it was far too likely that one day the sound would be said to an Oath.

“Please hurry up,” she begged.

For the first time in over ten years, Alfa was biting her fingernails.