Erik awoke with a sensation of warmth and softness enveloping his body, a stark contrast to the cold, hard surfaces he was used to. His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he stared in confusion at the tapestry in front of him, the soft linens that cushioned his aching limbs, the enormous size of the room he was in, and the rich velvet curtains that made the room have a slight red hue.

He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain jolted through his body, forcing him back onto the bed. It was then that he noticed the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso and arms.

‘Oh yeah… the gang…’ he thought as he recollected the last moments before blacking out. The image of Rat strangling him was vivid in his mind. ‘What happened after that? Where am I?’

Just then, the door creaked open, and Erik’s heart leaped into his throat. An elderly man with only a few strands of hair on his head combed to one side, stepped into the room. His movements were measured and precise, exuding an air of dignity matched by the black suit and white gloves he wore.

"Ah, you're awake," the old man said with a warm smile and a slight bow. "I am the butler of this mansion, Clark, the master will see you shortly," the butler placed a towel on the bedside table. “You may use it to clean off your sweat.”

The butler then turned and left the room, closing the door, before Erik could even muster any response.

‘Safe? Here? But where was "here"?’ Erik's thoughts spiraled as a prickling sensation crawled over his skin. His fingers trembled slightly, tapping on the bed multiple times, his breath shallow and fast as he tried to take in his surroundings.

It was then that the door opened again. Erik’s breath had caught in his throat as Duke Phillips stepped inside. The man looked different from the last time Erik had seen him—his left arm was in a cast, and his face appeared to be full of cuts nearly healed—, however, it was still the same person he stole from twice.

Erik’s heart pounded in his chest. ‘Does he want revenge? Will I be a prisoner of him?’. Fear surged through him, and despite the pain, he tried to scramble out of bed and make a run for it.

However, his body betrayed him. Pain flared up, and he collapsed to the floor with a pained grunt after taking just a couple of steps.

“Easy there,” Phillips said, hurrying to Erik’s side. The Duke’s touch was gentle as he helped Erik back onto the bed. Phillips chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’m not here to hurt you, boy. If I were, you wouldn’t be lying in this bed. What’s your name though?”

Erik stared at him, wide-eyed and trembling, his instincts screaming at him to run, but his body was too weak to obey.

“I’m Erik Blake…”

Phillips' eyes widened, and he stared into Erik’s face. “Are you… Kaf Blake’s son?” the words came out slow, almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, what about it?” Erik asked, confused about how he knew his father.

The Duke placed his hand over his mouth and coughed slightly. “Nothing, I apologize. It just reminded me of something,” Phillips took a seat beside the bed, leaning back. “Well now that formalities are out of the way, you’re probably wondering why you’re here, and what happened after you blacked out.”

Phillips unbuttoned his shirt slightly, revealing the bandages wrapped around his own chest. “You see? We’re both a bit worse than we would hope to be, I got these injuries fighting those thugs,” he said before buttoning it up again.

Erik gulped, seeing the man’s injuries. His gaze avoided the Duke for a few moments. That man hurt himself badly because of him, and that’s not even counting how much harm Erik had done. He felt indebted and ungrateful to Phillips.

“The magic healing we received wasn’t enough to fully mend our injuries. Too much of it, and our bodies might’ve rejected it altogether,” the Duke said.

Erik nodded slowly, understanding the Duke’s words.

He had learned about the dangers of overusing healing magic from Katherine. Potions carry the risk of toxicity, where too much could build up in the body and cause it to break down from within. Even with healing magic, there were serious risks.

The magic worked by accelerating the body’s natural healing process, pushing it beyond its normal limits. This made it possible to heal wounds that would otherwise be fatal, but it came at a cost—extreme exhaustion and wear on the body. Additionally, newly healed tissue could behave unpredictably. In some cases, excessive healing had caused organs to fail, as the body rejected the magically regenerated parts.

Erik winced as he shifted slightly in bed, the pain in his wounds a sharp reminder of that fact.

Phillips studied Erik for a moment before leaning forward, his expression softening. “Tell me, Erik,” he began gently, “why did you resort to crime? What drove you to make the choices you did?”

“Is…” he gulped, trying to keep his eyes on Phillips' face. “This an interrogation?”

“Not at all, I just want to know what led you to all of this. Why join that infamous gang? Why not accept my help only to betray them in the end?”

Erik hesitated, his gaze avoiding the duke, he breathed deeply as he recollected everything that happened. He was nervous because of his past with the Duke, if he said something wrong would he be imprisoned?

The man seemed like a reasonable person until now but he wasn’t sure. Still, it wasn’t a good idea to be in silence or lie right now.

Erik went on to explain it from the beginning. It was a long story but the older man wasn’t in any hurry. The boy also talked about how he met the witch and started brewing potions with her, something that would have helped him leave the path of crime.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Phillips chuckled, the response he got was satisfactory. “You were protecting your family,” he said quietly. “You did what you thought was necessary to keep them safe. You shouldn’t have stolen from all those people, but still, I, Duke Phillips of Frosthollow, hereby forgive you of your crimes,” he extended his hand to Erik who shook it after thinking for a few moments.

“So… I won’t be punished?” Erik asked, finding it weird how a commoner like him who had done all of that could be forgiven like this.

Phillips shook his head. “No, Erik, you won’t be punished,” he replied gently. “I’ve seen enough to know that you’re not a bad person—you were just pushed into a corner with no way out,” he explained in a gentle voice. “Your methods weren’t right but your heart is in the right place.”

“So… am I free to go?” Erik asked, his family would have probably been worried by now as they wouldn’t expect him to leave for long—although he wasn't sure if only a few hours had passed or entire days.

“Why, is there any place you need to be now?” Phillips raised a brow. “You’re free to stay here until your wounds are fully healed.”

Erik shook his head, turning away the offer. “My mother and siblings are probably worried by now, I don’t want to torture them like this.”

The Duke brought his hand to his chin and nodded after a few moments. “And where do you live?”

“In a village west from here, it’s a bit far away.”

“Well, in that case, why don’t I prepare a carriage for us? We’ll go there together later but for now, I want us to just enjoy this conversation,” the Duke said in a gentle voice that Erik could only accept, leading him to nod.

Phillips then called his Butler and requested two horses, a small carriage, and a healer as soon as possible. The guards however showed some resistance, saying that the Duke was far too bruised to go on adventures by himself so three guards and a healer would tag along.

“Why do you want to go to the village?”

“Why? Well, I thought that was obvious. I want to see if I can cure your mom somehow. I assume she hasn’t seen doctors right?”

Erik shook his head.

“Well, you see? Then there’s hope we could cure her,” the man said, a warm smile sprawling on his face.

“Why would you do all of this to us?” Erik asked, his gaze shifting downwards as he felt tears form in his eyes. These weren’t of sadness, rather he was just overwhelmed by finding someone that cared.

Phillips’s expression softened as he noticed Erik’s struggle to hold back tears. He took a moment before answering, choosing his words carefully. “Erik, I’m doing this because no one should have to face the hardships you and your family have endured alone. Your father, Kaf, saved my life once, and though I couldn’t repay him then, I can honor his memory by helping you now.”

Erik looked at the man after hearing his father being mentioned. “You knew… my father?”

“Well, I didn’t know him in person but I was in a city overseas when the Demi-human army encroached on us. I was terrified, I thought that our armies had it under control but I was wrong. It was Kaf, that day, that stood alone against them, sacrificing himself to save us.”

Erik’s breath caught in his throat. He had known his father died in the war, but he had never heard the full story of his heroism. It seemed that he died as he lived.

“He was a hero,” Phillips continued, his voice thick with emotion. “And I owe him everything. That is one of the three reasons I can’t stand by and do nothing.”

“What are the other two?” Erik asked as his curiosity peaked.

“Well,” Phillips raised two fingers. “I can’t really let a child like you suffer, can I?”

“There are many orphans in here, aren’t there though?” Erik recollected the sighs of children walking around aimlessly, many beggars and criminals like himself. “You should probably help them instead of me.”

Erik’s argument was reasonable, it showed great selfishness from the boy too—making Phillips laugh. “Don’t worry, I have some plans to help the general population. For the kids, I’ll start by creating an orphanage so they have a roof over their heads and food. The building is in its earlier stages though… with some luck we have it done before the winter comes,” he said, holding his chin.

Erik nodded but he still wasn’t sure about this. Many people needed more help than him, things were tough but they used to be worse anyway. “What about the adults? Many people lost their jobs, many men came from war handicapped and all of that.”

Phillips raised his brow. “You’re weirdly grown up for your age… how old are you?”

“I’m eleven;” Erik said.

‘Am I really that grown?’ Erik thought, he didn’t see himself like that at all so he couldn’t guess why the Duke asked that.

“That’s the age of my daughter and she doesn’t think like you at all…” Phillips scratched his cheek with a smile before recomposing himself. “Well, to answer your question I am working on that as well. I plan on reopening some mines north of here that closed due to worker shortages when the war started. It’ll be hard but it’s going to bring hundreds of jobs to the town and enrich the commerce with minerals. You know… things a kid shouldn’t worry about.”

Erik nodded slowly, taking in everything the Duke had said. He wanted to make sure he could believe in this man, to trust that he would do good. Though Erik wasn’t driven by a deep sense of obligation toward others, the thought of being singled out while others remained in need weighed on him after all.

“And what’s your third reason?”

Phillips hesitated, shifting in his seat as a faint flush crept up his neck. He rubbed the back of his head, clearly embarrassed. “Well, this one is… it’s a bit selfish, honestly.”

Erik raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Was it something bad? It must’ve been for that man to suddenly lose his composure.

“You see,” Phillips began, his voice a bit lower, “after the incident at the warehouse, I had some of my mages examine the scene. They found traces of fire magic—a powerful spell, likely a fireball. And then there was the leader of the Wolf Fist Gang’s account of how fast you moved, how you seemed to enhance your body with magic. That, combined with your knowledge of alchemy at such a young age, well…” He trailed off, looking a bit sheepish.

Erik maintained a serious expression as Phillips described his reason. Perhaps he noticed that as the embarrassed man coughed profusely and shifted to a more serious tone.

“You have lots of potential. I’d like to help that potential grow. Now, you’re free to ignore this offer—I’ll still help your family as I promised—but if you choose not to develop your magic, you might be turning away from something extraordinary.” He paused to breathe but his gaze remained steady. “But just think for a moment, Erik… don’t you want to see how deep you can reach into the abyss of magic?”

Erik gulped. That wasn’t a proposal he was expecting. ‘Do I want this? Do I want to become strong?’ he wondered, the question echoing in his mind.

Then, his thoughts flashed back to the promise he had made with his siblings all those months ago, a promise to become stronger.

A smile curled on his lips, growing wider with each passing second. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for.

His thoughts turned to his father, a man he had always respected, now revealed to be a hero in the war. The smile on Erik’s face widened, almost maniacal in its intensity. He wanted to be like that man, but he also wanted to surpass him—dying on a battlefield wouldn’t be the end of Erik Blake.

He grasped Phillips’ hand firmly. “Alright,” he agreed, his voice resolute. “But first, you’ll help my family!”

Phillips smiled warmly, giving a reassuring handshake to the boy. “That was always part of the plan, Erik.”