I woke up with my finished painting right in front of me. Honestly, waking up to a completed piece of art wasn’t a bad way to start the day. The painting itself wasn’t too shabby either, considering it had been inspired by the random chaos of Brandt’s drunken ramblings.

Still, I couldn’t shake what he’d said the night before. Whatever he’d been yapping about felt... off. I decided to keep a closer eye on him. Drunk or not, people tend to let things slip when their guard is down, and I had a feeling Brandt knew something we didn’t.

As usual, breakfast was already on the table when I got up. Mother, the ever-dedicated cook, had prepared everything. Over the years, I’d grown accustomed to this routine—eating together as a family. At first, it felt strange, but now I realized it wasn’t about the table or the chairs. It was about the people sitting at them.

“How was your sleep?” Mother asked, her usual morning question.

“It was great, Mother,” I replied with a nod.

Today’s breakfast was eggs, soup, and rice. Thanks to our own rice crops, we never had to buy any, which made meals both convenient and satisfying.

Father walked in, shaking his head as he sat down. “He was clueless,” he said, clearly referring to Brandt. I’d seen the two of them outside earlier, probably talking about last night.

“Well, you can’t blame him,” Mother said, placing more food on the table. “He was extremely drunk.”

“Uncle doesn’t remember anything he said?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

“No,” Father replied, shaking his head again. “He says he’s fine, but he looked… off. I can’t read him completely.”

After finishing breakfast, I helped with some light chores around the house. Once that was done, I planned to train and finally test out my upgraded skill. Of course, I’d have to be careful about how I used it—getting caught was not an option.

Outside, I spotted Brandt going through a sword routine. I didn’t know how long he’d been at it, but it seemed like a while.

“Are you ready to spar?” he suddenly asked, not even looking my way. Yet somehow, he knew I was there.

I nodded, stretching a bit. “Yup.”

He laughed, finally stopping mid-swing. “Did you hear me last night?”

Yeah, you’re a terrible yapper when you’re drunk, mister. Of course, I couldn’t say that. Especially since what he said last night was worth keeping quiet about.

“You told some fantastic stories, Uncle,” I said with a grin, putting my wooden sword over my shoulder and striking a confident pose.

“What did I say?” he asked, lowering his sword and looking at me with faint curiosity.

“Oh, mostly about… chickens. And maybe ducks? No, I think it was about birds, Geese, I think? Honestly, I don’t remember much,” I said, deliberately looking like I was trying to recall the details.

“Aaah,” he sighed, shaking his head. “I’m pretty much a talker when I get drunk. Really, really embarrassing."

He chuckled as if he wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest.

He was different today—I could tell. His eyes kept darting to various spots around town, especially to the more hidden corners. There was a nervous energy about him that was hard to miss.

“And,” he said, breaking the silence, “this will be our final spar. Final training.”

So, he’d decided to leave today. I thought he’d stay for at least another week, but it was clear something—or someone—was weighing on him. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was definitely more going on than he let on.

“You’re going back to your own place?” I asked.

“Yes, just like I told you,” he replied curtly.

I realized I didn’t know much about his place—or him, really. But I couldn’t help myself; the question slipped out.

“Can I come with you?” I asked, half-joking. Not that it mattered—my parents would never agree to it anyway.

“No. Not at all, kid,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s not a place for someone like you. Do you understand? I’ve been teaching you so you can protect your family. That’s your job—stay here and get stronger.”

There was an intensity in his voice that caught me off guard. It wasn’t just a brush-off; there was something deeper. Something personal. My guess? Something tragic had happened to him, something he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—talk about. Even my father, his own brother, didn’t seem to know what it was.

I wanted to ask, but I couldn’t. After all, I was just a five-year-old kid.

“I understand,” I muttered.

“Let’s start,” Brandt said, his grin practically splitting his face. “And just so you know, I won’t be going easy this time.”

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Great. He looked like a maniac, but surely he wouldn’t just—

Swishhhh!

What the—?! He did attacked!

“Uncle, that was sudden!” I shouted, barely managing to block the strike. His movements weren’t just fast; they were powerful, way more than I’d expected.

“Well, you should expect all sorts of surprises on the battlefield,” he said casually, immediately swinging again.

He wasn’t wrong, but this… this wasn’t a spar. This was something else. His blows were stronger than the giant spider’s attacks. This guy was insane.

“Either dodge these attacks, or you’re dead,” he said, his strikes coming faster now.

My feet slid back as I struggled to keep up. Sweat dripped down my face, my arms screaming with the effort to block each blow. This wasn’t training—it felt like a real fight. And yet, I could tell he was still holding back.

“You can’t protect your family if you’re weak!” he yelled loud enough for my father to hear.

“Hey, Brandt! You idiot, what are you doing?!” Father shouted from a distance.

But Brandt didn’t stop. His grin widened as he pressed harder.

How was I supposed to escape this lunatic? He was a trained soldier, and I was a five-year-old with a wooden sword. We weren’t even in the same league.

“Stop it, Brandt!” Father yelled, stepping closer.

Clink.

But then—

As I gripped my wooden sword, searching for an opening, a faint blue light appeared. A glowing line traced itself across Brandt’s body—from his head to his arms, shoulders, stomach, and legs. Then it faded, leaving behind bright blue circles at his wrist, elbow, shoulder, and knees.

I froze. He didn’t seem to notice.

It was the skill.

[Painter’s Eye: 2nd Stage]

“Didn’t you learn anything, kid?” Brandt taunted, still smiling. “What will you do in this situation?”

I glanced at my father, who was now visibly concerned and inching closer. The blue circles—his weak points—stood out vividly. His wrist, elbow, shoulder, and knees were exposed, but they were fleeting targets, disappearing as he shifted.

I stepped back, forcing him to overextend and lose his momentum. This was my chance. Without hesitation, I aimed for his wrist with everything I had.

“Gotcha!” I yelled, swinging hard.

Thwack.

I’d love to say I landed a perfect hit, but I didn’t. I was just a little too slow. Even so, it worked—his grip faltered, and he dropped to one knee to recover.

His eyes widened in shock, but then his expression softened, and a grin spread across his face.

“HAHAHAHA! YOU! How did you?!” he bellowed, grabbing me and lifting me into the air.

Uncomfortable? Absolutely. But I understood his reaction.

I thought I’d failed, but my strike had done enough to throw him off balance. He’d barely managed to block, but it forced him to drop to one knee to steady himself.

“That was—” he said, setting me down and pulling me into a tight hug. “Amazing.”

I couldn’t see his face, but I felt something wet on my back. Tears.

“Look at him, Victor!” he shouted, his voice was so loud, even Mother turned to see what was happening. But honestly, this wasn’t bad at all. His enthusiasm was infectious. I could feel it in his laugh, in the way his energy radiated. It wasn’t the kind of joy someone felt for themselves—it was the kind that came from genuine pride and surprise at what someone else had done.

“What the h—he’s a five-year-old kid, Brandt!” Father exclaimed, hurrying over.

I grabbed Father’s shirt. “It’s alright, Father. I didn’t get hurt.”

Brandt turned to Father, his smile fading for just a moment. “He… he can be a warrior—” He stopped mid-sentence, his expression unreadable. Then he stood, patted my head, and said softly, “You… can protect your family.”

“What happened?!” Mother shouted, running toward us as Father still looked worried.

Brandt turned to her with a smile. “It’s fine. I just thought Vonn was crying.”

I didn’t even know how to respond. Laugh? Cry? I just stood there, watching.

As Brandt walked toward Father, he clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going, brother,” he said, still smiling. "I better get going."

“Going where?” Father asked, narrowing his eyes. “Or are you still drunk?”

Brandt chuckled. “No,” he said with a laugh. “I’m leaving. There’s something I must take care of.”

It was a moment of unspoken understanding between them—a quiet exchange of brotherly love. Brandt had said his farewell to us, and with that, he was gone.

The last thing he said to me before he left was this.

"The future’s scary, kid, I won’t lie. But strength isn’t about not being afraid—it’s about moving forward even when you are. Keep walking."

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A month passed quickly, and Clarisse was home for a short vacation from her mage tutoring.

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that her tutor might be a scam. It was just a hunch—until she demonstrated a new chant she’d learned after only a month of training.

“Winds of the endless sky, carry my will,” she recited.

I almost laughed. It was so short that I thought she’d forgotten the rest of it. She caught me trying to stifle my amusement, her eyes narrowing slightly.

But then—

A massive gust of wind burst from her hand, rushing across the open area she’d aimed at. Naturally, our parents wouldn’t let her try any spells inside the house after last time.

I was shocked, though I did my best to hide it. The spell was impressive, as if she’d commanded the air itself to obey her.

“Easy peasy,” she said smugly, glancing at me with a teasing smirk while our parents ran to hug her, showering her with praise.

“You’re the greatest mage alive,” I said with mock seriousness, which earned me a small, satisfied smile from her.

In that same month, I had spent time learning more about my upgraded skill, Painter’s Eye: 2nd Stage. I discovered that it only activated when I faced an opponent directly, and it could only be used once per fight. Additionally, unlike magic, the skill didn’t require mana but physical energy—stamina, essentially.

So while Clarisse was busy mastering magic, I’d been working on understanding my abilities.

image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/034/487/740/small/gold-frame-page-divider-free-png.png]

Inside our house, during dinner.

"Have you learned magic already?" she asked, catching me so off guard that our parents turned to look at me with raised eyebrows.

"What?" was all I managed to say, trying to sound casual.

Her timing couldn’t have been worse.

"You know, you've been reading all those magic books as a hobby, right?" she said, scratching her head, as if trying to seem nonchalant.

"Yeah, reading helps me sleep better," I replied, keeping my tone light.

"You didn’t learn anything from them?" she asked, then laughed—like it was all a big joke.

Our parents were still staring, trying to make sense of what we were talking about. But I had this nagging feeling she already knew the truth, like she was playing some sort of detective game with me. Every time I glanced at her, she felt less like my sister and more like an interrogator, piecing together evidence.

"I'm just kidding!" she said, surprising us even more. "But I do have a gift for you."

A gift? What was it, a bomb or something?

"This," she said, pulling out a book.

The title read Magic: Offensive Perspectives. I didn’t know much about it, but it was obviously a book on magic—no guessing required.

"Is that some kind of magic book?" Father asked, eyeing it with mild curiosity.

"Yes, Father," she replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "It’s a book about attack spells, designed for combat purposes."

Oh. My. God. My eyes widened, and I swear my ears perked up like a dog hearing the word "treat." I wanted to drop to my knees and thank her for this holy gift from the greatest mage alive. But no, that would’ve been too humiliating—even for me.

"This... this is for me?" I asked, just to be sure I wasn’t dreaming.

"Of course," she said, smirking. "You’re a book addict, aren’t you? Isn’t that right, Mother? Father?"

"Yup, he is," Father said without hesitation, while Mother nodded so quickly it was almost comical.

After dinner, we kept talking. Clarisse rambled on about her month—how her teacher was kind and had given her that old book.

She told us the news she’d recently heard from her tutor—that magical creatures, likely predators, were on the rise. According to her, the empire had declared that mages were now required to join the frontlines to combat these predators, who had the unsettling ability to disguise themselves as humans.

It was that bad. I couldn’t say for sure, but it felt like exactly the kind of danger Brandt had warned me about—the kind he said I’d need to protect my family from.

"So, Uncle Brandt came here?" she asked, catching me off guard. It was the first time I’d heard from our parents that Brandt had visited.

"That’s right," Father said with a smile. "He even asked about you."

"I just hope he wasn’t angry," she said, frowning slightly. "He promised to teach me swordsmanship, but I chose magic instead."

"No, he wasn’t angry at all. Just a bit surprised," Mother reassured her.

Hmm. Yeah, that's why Brandt’s surprised enough to make me the guinea pig for his sword lessons.

"But your brother is the one he decided to teach," Father added, almost as an afterthought.

Clarisse turned to me, her eyes sharp. I glanced up from the book she’d given me and managed an awkward smile, like I’d been caught sneaking cookies from the jar.

"You already know swordsmanship, Vonn?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

"I’m... decent," I said, keeping it vague.

"Great! Then let’s spar tomorrow—your sword versus my magic!" she shouted, her excitement practically vibrating off her.

I stared at her, dumbfounded. She was nuts. Absolutely nuts.

"You are not allowed to do that though." Mother said.

Thankfully.