After scaling the uphill battle which was the perilous slope, sliding down it every few moments like skating unwillingly on an ice rink, we had swiftly moved past through the next hole, delving further into the unexplored territory of these caverns.

“So, maybe we should introduce ourselves?” The eldest proposed in an attempt to break the cold deadlock. “I’ll go first, I’m the eldest of the lot and my name is Rokas.” He proudly puffed out his chest and childishly pounded his fist against it in awkward laughter.

The youngest seemed most allured by his performance and promptly followed up his brother's introduction. “I’m the youngest and my name is Millen.” His voice squeaked like a chick in accordance with his small body. He looked a lot like his older brother, but his features became gentler and his brows slipped like an icicle above the hue of his magenta eyes.

I smiled at the two and turned my gaze to the last one, brooding behind the rest of his brothers and dragging his feet. A distinct pout raised on his face turning a sharp glare to my inquisitive look. “So are you going to tarnish your two brothers' kindness and open greetings in the sake of cliche pride belonging to a female interest in some romance novel? Or are you going to man up for the sake of your family?” I asked, genuinely intrigued at his response. From the books that I read from my mothers draws, filled with nothing but romance, most would swallow their pride but occasionally some wouldn’t. I wondered if their bond truly was strong, or was it one sided.

He clicked his tongue and began scratching his head, yet again, typically portraying a classical novel's trope to a “dere” character as they referred to them. His eyes lashed out in the same flaxen as the eldests, whilst his long eyelashes slowly followed along. A sharp jawline reflexively tightened and eased as his words spoke and his furrowed look only grew more unhappy at this conversation.

“I’m Gringe, neither the youngest or the eldest, neither the strongest nor the weakest.” His brothers awkwardly looked at each other and self-deprecatingly laughed. I had no idea if he was adding spite into his words after realising my prowess and the situation we found ourselves in now, but for certain, his words were very unwelcoming.

“Nice to meet you all. I’m Eli. Or in full, Elias. Call me whichever, I have no preference.” I casually informed them and began walking ahead of the group. “You guys are hungry, because I was thinking of stopping for a break right about now?”

The three looked to me in unison and nodded clearly pleased at hearing the words food.

We quickly found a small intersection between two rooms in the cavern and I conjured a safe enclosure made of earth that would protect us whilst we cooked the food.

“Woah! So cool, so cool! Eli, where did you learn to cast magic?” The youngest asked me, jumping up and down with sparks shining bright in his eyes.

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“What do you mean? I learnt at home. Don’t you guys know how to use magic?”

The youngest looked to his two brothers and they both looked away. Then Rokas began speaking. “None of us actually. We were never taught how to use magic or even activate it slightly in our crux. Originally, father was going to teach us but he….” his words cut off as Millen looked wistfully at him. “Until he went hunting. For food…for all of us.” His voice dropped off at the end and his face twisted dejectedly.

I simply nodded and directed them over with a tilt of my neck at the four seats risen from the dirt. “Sit down lads. Let’s eat plenty and then continue.”

The four of us cosily sat, huddling around the humane flame kindling beneath some sticks I retrieved from my dimensional storage. The Timber Wolf meat, gradually roasted evenly on all sides, rotating with a constant output of wind mana making sure to keep it spinning.

“So, where are you guys from?” I asked, hoping to inspire some conversation about their previous experiences together. Guiding the conversation to such a topic was all but child's play for me.

Unexpectedly, Gringe answered. “We come from slightly more north than here. It’s usually warm, even at this time of the year, but this winter has hit us very hard and so we were forced to venture here.”

“I see. Do you guys have any fond memories of your home?” I pursued deeper, in search of a direct answer. This time, the youngest answered.

“Well, we all love our home and the town we came from. We're all the same there. Even when nobles come from rich parts to enjoy holidays in our territory and they slander us and discriminate against us for being less wealthy, it doesn’t change the fact we love the town.”

The answered now strayed around poverty and the discrimination they faced, Something I have yet to experience with my family, but probably only because we live remotely. In my past life, Evert hailed from a poor family and he told me about the harshness of the situation.

However this is still not what I hoped for. Alas, the kids don’t understand my line of thinking.

“Let me rephrase my questions. Why are the three of you so close? What experiences brought you together?” I yearningly scavenged through their blank gazes, handing them some of the cooked food they dug into. I didn’t drag them here for nothing. I needed to get something out of this exchange.

Finally, Rokas spoke up. “Oh, you should have just said so. Well, the three of us have always stuck close. Mum would always be busy with other things and hadn’t been able to dedicate much time towards us. That man, our father, left. So what could we do but rely on each over. The three brothers. Also your question seems flawed. Why would I need a reason to be close to these two? Even if they had betrayed me, threw me in front of a flying dagger, left me to starve, I would always, unconditionally love my family and that applies to these two. The bond we share cannot be replicated through time, and is something made through instinct and love of the same blood.”

A resplendent smile eased onto his face, whilst I glared back at him perplexed at his answer. Unconditional love wasn’t an unheard phrase for me, but it didn't make sense. You should value your life more than anyone else's. And trust is always held with a grain of doubt. That is enough for a reasonable relationship, right?

Has my instilled ideal of a family been wrong? Twisted? I’m aware of the “love” my parent’s hold for me, but what does their love consist of? Is it unconditional? Why do they love me?

“I see.” I replied after briefly pondering on his response. “My love has been fundamentally wrong towards my parents, so that’s why I haven’t gotten attached to them.”

“What was that?” He called out as I muttered away.

“Sorry, it was nothing. Oh, and one more question. How do you learn to love people not connected by blood?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had this experience myself. I’ve felt gratitude and even warm feelings towards non familial members, yet I haven’t loved anyone outside of that. But I believe what my grandma once told me is a hint of some sort. Love is rare for the ones you aren’t bound to, but it’s a journey you’ll start walking without realising. One that cannot be separated by distance, time or silence. A journey that never ends.”

“Love is like a riddle.” I complained and he lightly chuckled at me. “Ok, let’s eat up and get moving. I’d like to get out of this place as soon as I can with the sufficient goals that I set originally.”