“They were supposed to arrive today,” murmured Melsei worryingly. “Were they delayed?”
Her husband’s letters had always been delivered to her every two weeks like he had promised her, but unlike usual, it hadn’t arrived that day. The sun was setting in the distance, and yet there was no sign of a courier approaching their street. Worried, she had glanced out of the window every few minutes just in case she had missed it, even going out to check the entrance, but nothing had arrived.
Perhaps something had come up. There had been a time once where a letter had been delayed because of a storm that had slowed the transport. Maybe Garthan had forgotten to write or wasn’t in the condition to do so. He had mentioned that if he didn’t find Rother in Zentoth, he’d go to the headquarters of Rother’s school himself—given that he acquired the location to the place.
That would explain why he couldn’t send a message.
“Is there something wrong?” asked Lytha, emerging from the side of the room. She was a strange existence, one Melsei hadn’t quite known about until she had visited with Shaden a year ago. Even now, her presence was mysterious, though she shared her brother’s looks and habits, like making no sound while washing herself.
“Garthan’s letter should have come today,” she said. “Maybe I am worrying too much.”
“I will go look for him,” Lytha offered. “Shaden and Eilae are comfortable now. There’s nothing I need to do.”
“But Eilae’s birthday is approaching soon. You should stay.”
“I don’t celebrate birthdays.”
She had kept true to her word. While preparations were being made, Lytha had kept out of sight, disappearing off into thin air. Melsei was still slightly upset with that. Maybe it was her stubbornness, but she wanted Lytha to stay.
“Don’t say that. She is your student.”
“I didn’t celebrate Shaden’s birthday either. I’m sorry, but Garthan and I……”
She shook her head. “I will go find my brother. I can’t let him make you worry any longer.”
“But—”
“It’s on your face. You’re an expressive woman—my brother must have been charmed, seeing so many emotions.”
Lytha had said something perplexing again.
“I will go now. He was always a slow one. Expect us in two—no, one week.”
With that, she was gone, not giving Melsei a chance to say anything. She was the opposite of her sibling, never relenting, inflexible with her decision, like she thought her choice was the best one.
Melsei let out a deep sigh. She could have let her know beforehand. Eilae would be dismayed now.
“Mom? Where’d Aunt Lytha go?” said Shaden.
Melsei beheld her son whose hair was wet from taking a bath. He looked puzzled and honest. Though he had black hair, he was much more expressive than his father’s side. It made her smile thinking about it; seeing her child with her traits made her feel happy.
“You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of everything for your friend’s birthday.”
“What?”
She went to her son and caressed his hair.
“She’ll bring Dad back home with Rother. So don’t worry.”
“I’d never worry about her,” said Shaden, looking a little embarrassed but glad at the same time. “She does what she says she will do.”
“Does she?”
“So far.”
“Won’t your friend be upset?”
“Because she isn’t here? Probably not.”
From the side of the room, Melany let out a half-shout half-call that sounded something like, “Come now.” Surprised at the sudden noise, Melsei and her son exchanged wide-eyed expressions until they both exchanged chuckles.
“I’m pretty popular, Mom.”
“Are you?” She smiled. “Go on, play with her.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
At least her children were getting along. She had been worried that Melany would reject her brother, but Shaden was putting in quite the effort to make himself likable. It was funny seeing her son so intent on something.
Seeing him leave, a sad feeling came over her. He’d have to leave again and spend five years with strangers, people she had never heard about. Garthan had barely managed to convince her once, saying it was for the best. But with each passing day, her son was growing in a way she did not know. He was becoming unfamiliar, and though her heart wouldn’t change, would he stay the same?
They grew up so quickly, her children. She never wanted to let them go.
But now was the time to let them be themselves. They were well-behaved; she felt like she had nothing to teach them. She could feel her lack of knowledge.
What else could she be other than a caring mother?
Stretching her tired fingers, she continued to knit.
〄 〄 〄
In the roaring blizzard, a single figure ran across the white, his tracks disappearing within a second.
Cold. So, murderously cold. The wind slashed at his face like knives, causing him to squint from pain. He had never ventured this far up north before. The deep snow slowed his footsteps like quicksand, but he didn’t falter. Tightening his cloak around him, keeping his body active by manipulating his mana, Garthan grit his teeth and pushed forward.
Without pausing, he glanced at the map on his hand. The mountains were covered by the storm, but his instincts told him where to go.
He was close.
For four days he had traveled alone in the icy landscape, feeding himself with rabbits and wild plants. Water wasn’t a problem. Monsters were scattered and few in this desolate prison of frost, but the ones that roamed the area were dangerous. Giant, furred beasts whose breath would cause the skin to crack; mountain wyverns that made their nests high up in the peaks; Blue-eyed spiders that would sit and wait until a victim fell into its web under the snow.
They were foreign beasts, and he was in a foreign land. His instincts told him to turn back and retrieve a proper party who could use magic.
His son. He had to find his son. He had received news after a month of begging at the School of the Sword of Ice and Cold; they were stubborn rascals, refusing to give him the location of his son until he boiled over and snuck into their building to find information.
Infiltration was child’s play to him.
He had found records of Rother along with an obscure map that led to the north. His son had been chosen as a True Swordsman, gaining access to the School’s most secret techniques—if he survived.
My son is too naïve. He doesn’t understand the responsibility.
Being chosen as a True Swordsman meant carrying the burden of continuing the school’s nature. Not only the techniques but their history and identity as well. Why his son had agreed to being chosen was a mystery that had weighed on his heart from the day he found out. Why couldn’t he simply learn the techniques and return home?
Yet he had ignored their letters, not even bothering to inform them of his travels to the Headquarters of the Sword of Ice and Cold. Garthan personally didn’t enjoy their presence. Their weapon-breaking, body-slowing techniques were wearisome to fight against, and he didn’t agree to their ‘continual breakdown until the foe falls over’ policy.
A fight should be finished in one blow.
Yet despite everything Garthan didn’t approve of, he couldn’t blame his son. Not now. Not after Rother had discovered that he had been adopted, thanks to a bastard of a friend who had run his mouth in a drunken babble.
One sentence had made Rother vanish into the north.
Garthan breathed in deeply. He should have noticed it sooner. When Rother’s letters ceased, he should have gone to see his son right away.
A violent gust rammed into his body, causing him to stumble. The cold had long seeped into his bones, and if he ever stopped circulating, he knew it would be the end of him.
If only it was the cold that caused him to shiver, that caused his legs to grow weak and his mind to be filled with fears. Then he would accept his fate and be at peace. No, death was less of a problem. He was too capable to die in the wild.
My son. He is my son.
Anxiety piled up with each step. When his wife had worried about the growth of their children, he had heartily laughed it off. Children matured, and there was nothing they could do about it.
He recalled the people at the School of the Sword of Ice and Cold. The endless winters had frozen their faces as well as their hearts.
If Rother returned in such a state, Melsei would cry bitterly.
The blizzard showed no signs of faltering, but Garthan’s feet landed on polished stone. He bent down and pushed the snow away, revealing a road that continued north.
There was only one place this road would lead.
〄 〄 〄
There was a small knock on the door.
Rother opened his eyes. It wasn’t as if he had been sleeping. He hadn’t been able to sleep for the past two weeks very well. The pain had subsided a long time ago, replaced by a numbness that overwhelmed his entire self.
“……who is it,” he said.
The door opened, revealing his partner he had saved in the blizzard. At least he had survived. Rother couldn’t explain the throat-clogging feeling that welled in him, seeing his partner looking so well.
“Bent,” he uttered.
“Hey, Rother…” began the teen slowly. There was a hint of lingering guilt in the way his eyes refused to meet his, but there was something different about him today.
“What. Did the storm finally die?”
Bent shook his head. “No. It’s something else. There’s…”
Rother could see him struggling, biting his lip.
“Speak up. Please.”
“Your…father,” Bent said carefully, still refusing to look directly at Rother. His eyes fell to where Rother’s shoes were. Rother had told him about the truth about his adoption once in a small conversation as a passing remark. No wonder he looked uncomfortable.
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“What about him.”
“He’s here. Outside. The Instructor told me to tell you.”
“He’s—what?”
A wave of heat rushed over Rother’s body as his numbness retreated back into his skin. His head suddenly felt raw and exposed, and he pulled off his blankets, sitting up on his bed.
“What do you mean? There’s a damn blizzard outside!”
“I don’t know. I’m just saying what the Instructor told me to.”
Rother looked around in a panic. He couldn’t let his father see him like this. It was too soon, and he had only caused a mess.
He cursed and slammed his hand down on his bed.
“Why did he have to come. Why! I can take care of myself!”
Bent had already left the room after seeing Rother’s face redden with irritation, but Rother didn’t care. The guy was a coward, and if it wasn’t for him—
No. He had thought over this already.
His newfound anger slowly seeped away, and a cold, dull feeling crawled into his body once more, making him want to kill himself. If only they had been more careful, if only he hadn’t chased after the winter troll—
He slammed his fist on the bed again, causing it to shake.
“Rother.”
Hearing his name, he froze. He dared not look up. His hands were already rolled into fists, and as hard as he struggled, he couldn’t release them. His whole body trembled from the tension.
“Son.”
“Why are you here,” said Rother.
“I was worried. How could I not be? You didn’t reply—”
“It’s none of your business!” he growled. He hated himself. “You were busy with work. I was busy with school. You didn’t have to come. Was it Mom’s idea again?”
“You stopped replying.” Garthan failed to approach his son. He sensed something ominous. Hatred, yet not against him.
“I was busy planning to come up here. How did you even find me?”
“I asked your school.”
“They’d never tell you. This place is top secret. It’s only reserved for the chosen. The special.”
“There’s nothing that could stop me from finding you.”
“Why?!” Rother yelled. “Do you know how dangerous this place is? Do you know how many people have died up here?”
“That is why I’m here!” Garthan exclaimed. “You made a grave decision without consulting—”
“What! You and Mom? Why should I have to? You said I was an adult when I turned fifteen. You said you made your own decisions even before you turned ten. You’re the one who said you’d take care of mom, saying I could do what I wanted!”
“Rother.”
Upon hearing his father’s serious tone, Rother closed his mouth.
“Remove your blanket.”
“…no,” he replied. “Go home. I can take care of myself.”
“Rother—”
“You wouldn’t understand. I’m—I’m—”
Rother completely hid his face from his father and buried his face into a pillow. Seeing this, Garthan slowly moved towards his son, and upon reaching the bed, kneeled next to him.
“Can you remove the blanket for me?” he said softly.
Rother didn’t speak. He couldn’t bear showing his father the dreadful, horrible consequence of his mistake. His father hadn’t said anything wrong.
“They’re gone.”
Silence. Rother still didn’t lift his head. The pressure was overwhelming, and he found it hard to breathe. When had he felt so tense with his father?
“They’re gone,” Rother repeated. “You were right. I am stupid. My feet—"
He grabbed the blankets and threw it to the side, revealing two round stumps at the base of Rother’s legs.
“I can’t walk anymore.”
Garthan’s eyes widened.
“What—how could this have happened!”
“Don’t say that.”
“Who did this? I’ll find them and—”
“Don’t. Say that!” Rother yelled. “It’s been two weeks. Don’t.” Rother grabbed his head and closed his eyes. All the muscles on his face were screaming from tension. “Dad. Please…don’t say anything.”
He was on the brink of tears again. He had thought that he had become hardened. Strong and without emotional instability. But knowing that his father was there caused the emotions to come back. He didn’t want that. Did his father, with whom he didn’t share a drop of blood, really think of him as—
Rother inhaled sharply when he felt two, reliable arms wrap around his body.
“What…?” he whispered.
His father didn’t say anything. But his arms felt so strong and reliable, just like the first day he had seen him swing the sword.
“Don’t worry.”
“…………”
Something welled up inside of him. Like a dam that had released its grip on the water it held back, something ruptured inside of Rother. His chest suddenly felt full and his head felt light and hot. A blur covered his eyes, and his whole body began to shake.
“W-what do y-you mean, don’t w-worry—” he forced out, his voice becoming incongruent. “I-I’m not even y-your real—”
“Don’t say that.”
Rother couldn’t speak anymore. Tears began to flow from his face, and out of embarrassment, he tried to force down the cry that emerged from his throat, but it only made him whimper. He quickly began to wipe away the tears with his hands, but they kept flowing.
He wasn’t this weak. He had been trained.
“It’s o-over now,” he muttered through gasps. “My life is over.”
“There are ways to treat it.”
“Do y-you know how expensive it is?” half-shouted Rother. “You’re a guard. We’re going to become slaves. I can’t go back. Mom would—”
“Don’t worry.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
Though he couldn’t comprehend his father’s words with his head, the screaming of his heart died down, and the constant static in his mind seemed to clear up like all his problems were fading away. His father’s reliable hands pat his back down gently, and he continued to weep.
〄 〄 〄
Demund inhaled deeply. His time of going on stage was imminent.
He looked over his cards once more. The information was all inside of his brain, but this would be the first major project he would present, and he couldn’t risk stuttering. His heart felt like it would jump out of his throat, but he circulated and kept calm, controlling himself.
Everything was prepared. The samples were inside of his bag. He had submitted the forms after October break along with photos he took, and apparently, he made it into the semi-finals because the school requested that he present his project in further detail, live in front of the school’s evaluators.
If he passed this, he would make it into the three representatives and possibly become a Finalist.
This was a big checkpoint for him. If he failed here, everything would collapse. He had to ace it.
The door next to him opened, and his homeroom teacher beckoned him to enter the room. The day had been specially set for him to protect privacy. Demund nodded and gathered his items, following his teacher into the room with a nervous heart.
It wasn’t as big as he had expected. The hall was the size of a small classroom, with a classroom-sized projector that had been prepared for the occasion. Demund let out a relieved sigh. A smaller room would be much more comfortable than a large hall.
Three evaluators were at the front, holding tablets and pens. Demund recognized the documents on their screens; they were the files that he had submitted.
“Take this,” said his homeroom teacher, giving him a black stick with buttons on it. “It’s for your presentation. This button goes to the next slide, and this is the laser pointer.” Demund thanked his teacher, who left the classroom with a wave.
It was finally time. He breathed in and walked up to the front.
“Good afternoon,” he began.
Everything was going on smoothly until one of the evaluators interrupted him with a raise of her hand.
“Yes?” Demund said.
“Your idea of obtaining and farming Supernatural Acclimatization Particles from living creatures…was it your idea or did you hear it from someone else?”
Demund frowned internally. Technically, he had learned it from someone else.
“I had a revelation in a dream,” he said, being technically correct. “When I tried it out using the algae, it worked. I am certain I can reproduce the results on bigger animals if I had more SAP.”
“And you say that you raised the algae—very impressive, I should add—yourself. By inserting your particles into them.”
“Yes.”
“And how did you manage to do that?”
“I learned how to control my particles, though it took a while.”
“Could you elaborate?”
Demund straightened his back. “They are usually stagnant inside the body. But when you use your power—whatever it may be—it causes the particles to move. If you learn how to use this reaction, you can make the particles move within your body without using your power. If you become adept at this, then you can start to push the particles outside of your body by will.”
The evaluators exchanged murmurs to Demund’s worry.
He continued on with his presentation, showing the evaluators the small experiments he had made, including a crude mana-sensor.
It had been pretty simple to create. By surrounding the algae sample with a good conductor of heat (aluminum foil) and applying mana to it, the ball would heat up according to how much mana was put into it.
“When it overflows, the energy emerges from the algae as the easiest form it can turn into—heat,” Demund explained. “Usually, the SAP would evaporate into the air, but the tight aluminum covering forces some of it into thermal energy.”
The evaluators took turns testing out the apparatus, using their own abilities on the item. Judging by the heat,
“You’re all over C class,” Demund concluded.
“You can tell by our abilities, but you are correct,” one of them said. “How very interesting. Demund, do you know how SAP scanners work?”
Demund shook his head. “Not exactly. But I have a hunch. SAP is very interesting, sometimes acting like electricity. I’d say there are SAP containers within the scanners as well as a circuit that connects the containers. The containers would have some space between them where the person being scanner would stand. When energy is applied, the SAP conducts through the person’s body, and their potential is determined by the conductivity they produce.”
“You say you thought of this yourself,” they asked.
“Yes,” Demund replied. After filling his head with information on mana circuiting, this much was relatively simple to deduce.
“You may go now.”
Demund bowed and left the room while carrying all of his belongings. On his face was a large smile. They had surely been impressed, hadn’t they?
He felt a little guilty. He hadn’t actually discovered anything; he just had access to information others didn’t have. Then again, there were people who had abilities that made them super-intelligent. His ability was uniquely his, and he was using it well.
There wasn’t anyone to reprimand him. He hadn’t been lying either.
Now was the waiting game. Though he felt like he had done great, he’d never know until the results came out.
“Guess I’ll study,” he muttered.
〄 〄 〄
“Lytha.”
“Garthan.”
They faced each other in the streets of Zentoth. Garthan was pushing Rother on a wheelchair, who nervously looked between the two.
“Dad, who is she?”
“Your aunt.”
Lytha snorted through her nose, but Garthan kept his serious stare.
“I have a request to you, sister,” he said, maintaining his stern gaze. “My son needs treatment. I know you know some influential individuals.”
“Everything comes at a price, brother,” replied Lytha while yawning. “I couldn’t care less about the boy. Do you know how much your wife is worried about you? This is why I won’t get married…”
“Please. I’ll repay you with anything.”
“Oh, shut it. It’s my job to take you back home.”
“Both of you, for your family’s sake,” she corrected herself after seeing Rother’s confused face.
“My son needs—”
“I know, I can see it. I am not blind, nor am I one to make rash decisions. Aren’t you two just two peas in a pod? Blindly traveling into danger without giving it a second thought. Don’t make the sour face. Are you becoming upset, brother?”
“I will even go back to Father—”
“You won’t have to do that,” Lytha said, turning her back on them. “Father has Shaden now. His tenth birthday is coming soon. But you wouldn’t know about it, because you ran away.”
“My son. Is there a way to heal him?”
Lytha breathed out deeply. Her brother could be so earnest at times. The way he kept calling the boy his son annoyed her a little, but Shaden had said the same thing. The males of the family were quite the lot, transcending blood and heritage.
“Training Shaden was originally your duty, yet the task had fallen into my hands due to your neglect. I’ve discovered some wonderful things about him, things you couldn’t possibly imagine.”
She snapped towards the two. “We’re leaving for Danark. At least consult with your family before anything. Come. There is an airship leaving soon.”
〄 〄 〄
Shaden could never see someone suffer the same fate as he did.
When he saw his brother, he had looked different. Older, taller, and mature. But the most noticeable was his legs that were missing both feet.
Before anyone told him anything, Shaden knew what he had to do.
“Could you?” his tutor asked him. His father was looking at them with a confused expression just like his brother.
“I’ll try,” Shaden replied.
He walked to his brother and faced him. Because of his short height, they were almost face-to-face.
“It’s been a long time,” said Shaden.
“I know. A very long time,” agreed Rother. “Where’s Mom?”
“She doesn’t have to know about this,” said Shaden, looking at Rother’s legs.
“What—what does that mean.”
“I’m saying that I’m going to heal you. Lytha, could you set up an anti-detection barrier?”
“Hm…and done,” she replied. “But here? On the streets?”
“Where else? The sooner the better.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Stay put brother. Look at your son.”
Shaden knelt down and inspected Rother’s legs. The feet had been cleanly cut off, probably with a sword.
This was the first time he’d ever done something this complicated before. Repairing a limb—could he do it? But his abilities had not failed him yet. This inexplicable power that he had to bring forth his imagination into reality, just like a dream, could be the answer to the problem in front of him. No, it would be.
Shaden stretched out his hand and faced his palms towards Rother’s legs. The power to heal—he had used it many times with a success rate of a hundred percent.
“Let’s do this,” he said. “Rother, it might hurt a little.”
“What are you—”
Green light exploded throughout the dome-shaped barrier that Lytha had set up, swirling intensely like a miniature storm inside the container. Shaden increased his mana output, focusing his magic onto Rother’s legs.
Heal, restore, recover, mend, bring back.
The visualization of mending flesh and bones filled Shaden’s mind. The experience from all of his past injuries aided him throughout the procedure, and he knew he was on the right track.
When the light finally died down and the dome was released, Garthan couldn’t close his eyes. Neither could Rother. He was staring at his newly-formed feet, touching it to make sure it was really there.
“Dad. They’re back.” He sounded like he couldn’t believe it himself. “They’re back! Shaden, what did you do?”
“Magic.”
Rother laughed and lifted his brother into the air. “We need to go see Mom.” And with that, they were gone.
“I knew he could use advanced magic,” Garthan said. “But this. This is—”
“Absurd,” finished Lytha. “Even I didn’t know he could manage that.”
“People will want him.”
“And we are the best at staying hidden.”
“Does father know?”
“Not yet. But he is aware of Shaden’s intelligence.”
“My son. What has he become?”
Lytha placed her hand on her brother’s shoulder.
“Go to your family. Enjoy your time. When Shaden’s tenth birthday arrives, he won’t be under your influence anymore. He loves his family—he’s no monster. I am sure of it.”
“I know. But the mana he expended…it doesn’t make any sense. Did you do something?”
“He was like that from the moment I met him.”
“Do you think he has been blessed by…”
“Our mother was neglected.”
“Yet—there is a possibility.”
“……perhaps.”
〄 〄 〄
The results were out. The school had picked out three names, and the whole student body knew about it. There was a reason why the information was more widespread this year.
The scholarship student—the perfect scorer had been picked as a representative for the school.
Demund was feeling very happy. With this, his journey to the Islands wasn’t a dream anymore. He was making progress.
And yet, there was just one problem.
“I didn’t know you signed up,” said Enariss. “Anyways, good luck. Hope you make it as a Finalist.”
The smartest student of TISE High had joined the match. Not only that,
“But I’m going to take the first-place prize. I have to. Sorry in advance, Demund.”
She was competing for real. Demund had never seen Enariss give her all on something. But seeing her name in the results let him connect the dots. Enariss not being present in the MMA Club. Enariss always being busy with various things. Her saying she had things to do during the weekend.
“No way. I’m going to win this.”
“Hmph. Let’s see you try.”
Demund had found his greatest, most unexpected rival.