The walk back was quiet at first.

The air was cool, the streets half-empty—most people weren’t awake yet. Only a few early risers were out, opening shops, setting up for the day.

I was still replaying the battles in my head: the mistakes, the wins, the way Bobo had burned, healed, and burned again, yet never backed down. The way I’d fought—really fought—for the first time.

And then—

“You’re getting stronger.”

Rhyzar’s voice cut through the silence.

I glanced at him. “Obviously.”

He snorted. “Still a long way to go, though.”

“Obviously.”

A pause. Then—

“Your father told me about the Old Bloods.”

I tensed for half a second, then exhaled. “Yeah. That was a surprise.”

“Surprising, wasn’t it?” He gave me a sideways glance. “You ever think about what it means?”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“An Old Blood clan coming to you. Not the other way around.”

I hadn’t really considered it. I’d been too caught up in the moment—the egg, the negotiations, the sheer strangeness of it all.

But he had a point.

Most people would spend their entire lives without ever meeting an Old Blood. Some didn’t even believe they existed, outside of rumors and ancient records.

Yet one of them—one of the strongest, most isolated bloodlines in the world—had come directly to me.

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just shrugged. “Guess they had no choice.”

Rhyzar scoffed. “No choice? Boy, you still don’t get it.”

I shot him a look. “Then explain.”

“They didn’t just ‘find’ you,” he said, his tone shifting. “They sought you out.”

I frowned. “What’s the difference?”

Rhyzar glanced at me, then at the sky, as if choosing his words carefully. “The Old Bloods… they don’t move without reason. They don’t make decisions the way normal people do.”

He tapped his temple. “They see things differently—paths, threads, maybe even futures. I don’t know the details, and I doubt anyone outside their kind does. But when they act, it’s because something pointed them in that direction.”

A pause.

“They didn’t come looking for you,” he said finally. “They came looking for a solution.”

I stiffened. “A solution?”

“To what? No idea.” He smirked. “But you fit; that egg should be either very important or very strong.”

I didn’t like how that sounded.

“…So you’re saying they didn’t choose me. Something else did.”

Rhyzar shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. But tell me”—he met my eyes—“would it make a difference?”

“I don’t know; maybe you’re reading too much into ‘what ifs,’ and my father told me that men can only live by what they know, not by what they think they know.”

Rhyzar’s smile deepened, more than I’d ever seen. “Truly, Hector’s son.”

“Whose son would I be otherwise?”

He scoffed as he kept walking. “But when they saw you, they didn’t hesitate. They gave you the job, left you with the egg, and— most importantly, they promised you friendship.” He tilted his head. “Do you really think that was just coincidence?”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

I didn’t have an answer—at least not one I liked.

We walked in silence for a moment before he spoke again.

“The next time you meet them,” he said, “I want to be there.”

I frowned. “Why?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“If you’re there, won’t they recognize who I am?”

Rhyzar snorted. “Boy, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I scowled. “If you don’t tell me, how would I know?”

“Maybe the girl didn’t fully see through your veil,” he said. “Maybe she wasn’t sure.” He glanced at me. “But the mother? She should’ve already seen your true appearance.”

I blinked.

That made too much sense.

Lys had been curious, watching me, testing my reactions. But Lady Vaerin had been calm. Still. Cold.

Like she already knew everything she needed to know.

Like she had already decided something.

Rhyzar continued. “Besides, if they’re going to be your friends, wouldn’t it be more polite for them to know who their friend truly is?”

I hesitated.

I hadn’t even thought about that.

“…You really think they’ll care?”

He smirked. “You tell me.”

I exhaled, crossing my arms. “Fine,” I muttered. “Next time, you can be there.”

Rhyzar grinned. “Smart choice.”

I rolled my eyes.

I wasn’t sure if it was smart, but it was definitely the right one.

The moment I stepped through the door, I knew I was in trouble.

Not because I’d done anything wrong—at least not by my standards.

But because Bobo looked like he’d just survived a natural disaster.

As a family of beast caretakers, what happened to Bobo was a big NO NO in this family.

His fur was charred, still smoking in places. Some patches were completely burned off, revealing bare, scorched skin. His tail had a crispy look to it, like it had been left over a campfire for too long.

And yet—

He was grinning.

I barely had time to register my mother’s sharp inhale before—

“AKUL!”

Lina exploded from the side, lunging straight for Bobo.

Her tiny hands hovered, trembled, then clamped onto his cheeks. She gasped. “BOBO, YOU’RE BALDING—!”

Bobo chattered loudly in protest, waving his arms as if to say, Oi! The hell are you talking about?!

My father, who had been quietly watching, finally spoke.

“…What,” he said slowly, “happened to you?”

The weight behind his voice made me instinctively straighten.

I opened my mouth—

But Bobo beat me to it.

He puffed up his chest, spread his arms wide, and let out an exaggerated war cry, throwing his fists in the air.

“OOH OOH—!!”

Lina flinched. “W-Wait, Bobo, don’t move so much! Your fur is literally falling off!”

Bobo ignored her. He started shadowboxing, his little fists whistling through the air. He bounced on his feet, shaking off soot, practically vibrating with excitement.

Lina’s eyes widened in horror. “NOOOO, STOP! YOU’RE SHEDDING! WE CAN FIX YOU, DON’T LOSE HOPE—”

Bobo didn’t care.

He was beaming.

For him, the battle wasn’t a loss. It wasn’t even something to be concerned about.

It was the greatest day of his life.

Even though he had been burned, beaten, and nearly collapsed from exhaustion—

He just wanted more.

I let out a slow breath.

Yeah.

I wasn’t sure when it happened—

But Bobo was becoming a battle maniac.

And that was a problem.

I took one look at my father’s unreadable expression, at my mother’s slowly narrowing eyes, and at Lina—who looked one second away from bursting into tears over Bobo’s “shedding crisis”—

And I made the executive decision to run.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll explain later,” I blurted out, already grabbing Bobo and backing away. “I have things to do. Very important things.”

I took another step toward the hallway.

“Extremely, extremely important things.”

Mother raised an eyebrow.

“Life-changing things,” I continued. “Like, on a scale of one to ten, this is a twelve.”

I was almost at the door.

Lina whipped around. “Wait, but Bobo’s fur—”

“LATER,” I said, practically scooping Bobo up and booking it.

Father crossed his arms. “Akul.”

I didn’t stop. “SORRY, CAN’T HEAR YOU, TOO BUSY DOING IMPORTANT THINGS.”

Mother sighed. “Akul—”

“—LIKE WORLD-ALTERING, FUTURE-DEFINING LEVELS OF IMPORTANCE—”

I kicked open my door, slammed it shut behind me, and pressed my back against it.

Silence.

Then—

Bobo cackled.

I shot him a look. “Don’t encourage me.”

I flopped onto my bed, still clutching Bobo, who was grinning like an idiot despite the fact that his fur was half-burnt off.

I sighed, rubbing my temples.

Rhyzar’s words echoed in my head:

“You don’t fight to win. You fight to survive.”

Bobo’s battles today had exposed a glaring flaw—one that I’d be a fool to ignore. He lacked a finisher, a move that could end a fight before an enemy could recover, counter, or adapt.

“Alright,” I muttered. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

The Grimoire of Twin Reflection floated into my hands, its eye sluggishly blinking open like it had just woken from a nap.

It pulsed.

A familiar flood of information hit me all at once:

Skill options. Evolution routes. Training paths.

I blinked.

A lot of skill options.

I squinted.

“…Huh.”

This was…

A lot.

Like, an overwhelming amount.

I stared at the glowing lines of text, scrolling endlessly before my eyes.

“…Where do I even start?”

Bobo tilted his head, peering at the grimoire like he could read it too.

I flipped through the options, browsing mindlessly like I was scrolling through a menu with too many choices:

Blazing Claw Rend. Stone-Cracking Fist.

I clicked my tongue. “Okay. Sounds cool.”

I scrolled further.

Windpiercer Stomp. Sky-Tearing Leap. Ironhide Counter.

I raised an eyebrow. “…Fancy.”

Bobo nodded, very seriously.

I kept going.

Meteor Dropkick. Internal Resonance. Savage Multi-Blitz Barrage.

“…What does that even mean?”

Bobo shrugged.

I groaned, rubbing my face.

It was like trying to pick the best dish at a restaurant where everything was written in another language, and I was guessing based on how intimidating the price was.

I drummed my fingers against the cover of my grimoire, staring at the never-ending list.

So many directions. So much potential.

And yet—I wasn’t feeling it. Not yet.

This was important, but it felt like I was wandering through fog. I was doing something but had no idea if it was the right thing.

I sighed, flipping through another dozen options.

Then, somewhere between Vibrational Convergence and Tectonic Momentum Stacking,

It hit me.

I froze.

Slowly, I scrolled back up and re-read one of the descriptions.

My eyes widened.

“…Wait a minute, isn’t this…?”

I almost skipped over it. The list was so long, my brain already turning to mush. But then—

Folding Fist.

I stopped.

Folding Fist.

I narrowed my eyes at the name. Why does that sound so familiar?

I skimmed the description, then read it again.

Then—it clicked.

Oh.

I leaned back, blinking.

Oh.

This wasn’t just any skill. It was a Breaker Ape’s core technique. And not just any Breaker Ape—the very first step in the Breaker lineage.

I exhaled, rubbing a hand down my face.

I’d been drowning in options, overthinking everything, wondering where to even start. And now?

Now I had my answer.

Forget those other skills. If Bobo was going down the Breaker path, then this was where it began.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

A slow grin crept onto my face.

“All right,” I muttered, sitting up straight. “Let’s see what this thing can do.”