Chapter 1: Child of wonder

In the lands of Ulythes, there exists a force—an unseen energy that weaves through every magic, every heartbeat of the world. They call it Anima.

Those who possess the gift to harness this force can manipulate and shape the world in ways that defy the laws of nature.

A force that Anurands wield with unparalleled mastery.

Born from the depths of divinity, Anurands could harness tools such as lanterns and plates to measure the anima energy flowing through the world around them. This allows objects to sustain their immaterial state in the physical realm and imbue them with extraordinary properties. The scrolls Anurands used to channel anima were crafted with precision, each stroke of ink infused with the essence of their power. Precisely because of this, Anurands were revered and sought after, their abilities considered a gift from the gods themselves.

As the three celestial moons align in the night sky, a tidal wave of anima energy is released, illuminating all forms of life. From this tide, the domains of illusion and reality merge together, resulting in an entangled dimensions woven together by spaces known as zones.

For the past two thousand years, this phenomenon has been referred to as the "Astral Event." During the Astral Event, some peculiar artifacts manifest in the physical realm. Most people often refer to them as relics, with each object representing a rift of history emerging from different dimensions. The zone can perfectly maintain the artifact within its state, preserving it from decay and allowing it to exist as a material connection between the past and present.

Introduction of anima - The fourth Keeper

***

In the twilight yawn of shimmering rivers rose two tall lotuses glimmering in silver night, their tops a round as if drawn by a heavenly presence. The dream gazed at him in the gentle clasp, whispering a yet untold story. The hue of the stars marched at every budding of sprouts in his wake. Prairies and hills brimmed with flowers hummed at the melody sung by a maiden.

The backyard shone in pillars of light, from a woman dancing merry of the twinkling stars. A boy watched from afar, mother he says. In the riverbanks, a boat fro from side to side at the loving tune of a boy listening to his mother's lullaby. The moon wept with joy as the night danced along the ripples of the river.

The dream ends with a soft sigh.

"I used to be so optimistic about this bed, but now it's just a nightmare," Lionel woke up from his sleep and grumbled as soon he felt his back lurching in agony. The bed had pestered him the entire night, making it impossible for him to get a good night's sleep. It was supposed to mimic the sensation of being gently rocked by waves to help him sleep better, but instead, it left him feeling frustrated and irritable.

"Come on, not again!" Lionel groaned. Unable to endure it any longer, he quickly grabbed a sheet and placed it on top of the bed, hoping to numb its effect.

Once the bed was nearly arranged to his liking, he placed his hands on his hips and said in exhaustion, "Next time, I definitely won't ask my dad to buy me a bed."

Suddenly, a gust of wind rushed into the room through an open window, sending a cloud of dust straight into his eyes.

"Grrrr, I'm really getting pissed off by this," he muttered angrily. In a fit of frustration, he stormed over to the window and slammed it shut. As he did, the cool breeze brushed against his face, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain. For a moment, he longed to soar through the sky, to let the wind carry him into the distance, venturing into the unknown.

From the window, a prairie of grass filled with flowers and hales of grain covered the landscape, birds soaring through the sky, and the distant silhouette of mountains standing tall against the horizon. In that center, a house stood nestled among the lush greenery, one which had to embark on a journey on foot, traversing the bridges and braving the currents of rushing rivers. It was a quaint and welcoming sight, with ivy creeping up its weathered walls and a chimney releasing tendrils of smoke into the clear blue sky. The walls were made of rough-hewn logs, chinked with mossy clay, and topped with a thatched roof that lasted many seasons. The windows were small and narrow, but still cast plenty of natural light, spreading a warm, inviting glow throughout the room.

In his free time, he would often stand on the balcony, lost in his thoughts, resting his hand on his chin as he pondered about the world outside. From there, he could see the travelers passing by and making their way across the river. Scouts patrolled around the area and ensured the safety of the merchants and their precious cargo. Near the river, you could see a house teeming with adventures whispering tales of conquests and counting their loot. This was his home, that tragically turned into a popular resting hub, gossips and chattered grunts passed back and forth without rest.

From among the adventurers, a notable and respected profession stood out. The Anurands. They are renowned for their ability to use magic to detect the amount of anima energy present in every object. In their spare time, they could be seen strolling around towns wearing a particular symbol on the right side of their chest. People would flock as soon they caught sight of an Anurand, asking for their guidance or a need to patch their scrolls.

Funny enough, there are times when he stays on a living lounge and sees an approaching Anurand coming to their house, knocking on their door. Immediately, his father would come down from his lab, panicking and running around the house looking for a lantern. For the entirety of the day, he found it amusing to see his father walking back and forth with an anxious look on his face.

In day-to-day routine, his uncle would walk around the town, often seen by his neighbors strolling around by their homes.

Lionel revealed a toothy grin, remembering a funny memory he had with his uncle on their trips, especially the time when their neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, offered them a tray of overcooked cookies as a gesture of goodwill, almost as if it were a bribe. Without hesitation, he declared them the best cookies he had ever tasted. Uncle Ben, always the professional, managed to keep a straight face, but he couldn't stop laughing for the rest of the day. Their amusing encounter quickly became the talk of the town, showcasing their wit and charming personalities to all who heard the tale.

"Hmm? Is that Uncle Ben?" Lionel glanced at the corner of his window. The rain tapped insistently on the windowpane, its rhythm easing the burden in his heart.

Through the snow, Lionel saw his uncle approaching. He was dressed in a pleasant, midnight-hued robe that brushed against the ground. His hair was neatly braided, blending perfectly with his chiseled features and bushy beard. In his hand, he wielded a sturdy staff crafted from dark wood, its tip glowing with a crystal that hummed with magic. Ash and soot covered his clothes—a type of plant known for its hardy nature and tendency to spread quickly.

"Those damn acrophythes," his uncle muttered.

"Hey, Uncle!" Lionel shouted, "It seems your luck has run out today," he noticed the shiny scales on his uncle's bag. This was not the first time he had seen his uncle visit in such an unusual circumstance.

"I wonder if all Anurands are like that," he pondered as he thought of the world beyond the skies.

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For a while, images of the distant kingdoms and unexplored realms filled his imagination. He stared into the distant clouds, whether the vastness of the unknown held the answers he sought or the perils waiting for him at the end.

"The land shapes the clay, and the mud comes to life," Ben recited, conjuring an ancient mud-like essence at his fingertips and flicking it towards the window.

"Quit daydreaming and call your dad!" Ben scolded with a gentle smile.

"Aww, come on, Uncle. I've told you to stop doing that," Lionel grumbled, wiping the dirt from his face. The chair he was standing on nearly lost its balance when the mud splattered over him.

"Well, maybe if you weren't daydreaming all the time, I wouldn't have to," Ben retorted. "Now go on, get your dad. We have a lot to discuss."

Lionel stepped down from his stool, walking over to the mirror in the corner of his room. His silver eyes stared back at him, from which he noticed the soaking mud still splattered around his skin. The semblance of his eyes betrayed a sense of maturity that molded him apart from his peers. Bookshelves lined the walls behind him, filled with volumes on history, strategy, and magic. In the corner, his neatly folded pants were stored between two spaces in a cabinet, accompanied by a rack displaying his clothes.

Suddenly, he noticed the clothes hanging behind him, and a sense of urgency filled his mind. He quickly scrubbed his face and straightened out his clothes, worried that his uncle would notice that he had to bring him to the campsite today. With swift movements, he grabbed the clothes he needed and started getting dressed.

"Dad, Dad! Someone is outside the door asking for a bill!" Lionel shouted, knocking heavily on his father's door.

After waking up his dad, Lionel quickly turned around and sprinted back to his room. "Aquamavi," he chanted, activating the spell. The sound of water immediately filled the room as it flowed out of the tap and replenished the bathtub. Satisfied, Lionel tossed his clothes around the floor and hurried to the bathroom. Upon arrival, a fog of water vapor had already engulfed the bathroom. Wasting no time, he leaped into the water once he immediately saw the steam rising from the bath.

In the meantime, a voice reached through the walls.

"Huh? What did you say?" His father cried. He rubbed his exhausted eyes, startled by what just happened.

He quickly jumped out of the bed. However, once his feet touched the floor, he felt a sharp pain in his toes and looked down to see a piece of brick lying on the carpet.

"One, two, three, four, five," Lionel counted.

"Argh!" Moments later, he could hear his dad bouncing around in pain, as his left foot staggered with noise and hunched over like a goblin.

Lionel let out a small chuckle, praising his clever plan to motivate his father to wake him from his slumber. He knew that his dad's love for research made him lose a good chunk of his time, so he had no choice but to use the forbidden word "bill" and carefully place the bricks beneath his bed to snap him back to reality. He felt that his mother had played a significant role in his father's habits. His mother had always indulged and coddled his father, allowing him to become dependent and unable to take care of his health. This was only made worse when his mother would be absent for a week, leaving his father to fend for himself, causing him to become more absorbed in his research and neglect his duties.

Lionel sighed as he reflected on the contrasting traits of his parents. His mother was assertive and forceful, often intimidating, while his father had a gentle and delicate personality. He could envision his mother as a fierce lioness, commanding respect and leading her cubs, while his father resembled a stray puppy, a pup whose eyes only invite pity. If his mother was like a raging volcano, full of passion and energy, then his father was like a sculpture delicately carved with ice, calm and collected.

Taking a deep breath, Lionel set aside his unpleasant thoughts and regained his focus. He understood that his father's weaknesses were not entirely his fault, so he couldn't blame him for being the way he was. He decided to concentrate on the present and make the most of the situation.

"A spoiled nerd..." He sighed and stared blankly at the water bubbling on his feet.

"Hmm, another unfamiliar word," he mused.

The water rippled gently around his ankles as he continued to ponder the unfamiliar term. He closed his eyes, and his mind wandered to the strange book he had stumbled upon a few days ago. The mysterious book was covered in a material similar to that of a plastic, and its surface reflected a sheen that glossed in bright light. There were pages of papers that seemed to describe the details of an experiment rather than a story filled with narratives of myths and adventures. He couldn't shake off the feeling that the strange language might have to do with the word "nerd."

"What's a nerd?" The water splashed onto his face. He couldn't understand its language or decipher its symbols. He wondered whether if it was a book in the first place, or something more.

"There's no point thinking about it," Lionel muttered a spell as the gushing water of the faucet halted its flow. A lantern emerged beside him, imbued in anima.

***

"Hoy Rugues! How'd ya been?" Ben cackled in a bewildered look. "Bah, your kid did it again. You should see the look on your face, you didn't even bother to wash it," he laughed as the door hinged open, revealing Lionel's father's disheveled appearance.

"Ha-ha-ha!" Rugues greeted his friend as he swayed in exhaustion. He looked tired and his back slumped with fatigue, giving him a vacant expression resembling that of a zombie.

"Hey there, Dad!" Lionel said with a fake smile, seemingly unaware of the situation.

"You..." Rugues twitched and pointed at him in disbelief.

"Hmph, I'm not the one who's forgetting something here," Lionel strapped the sling of his backpack and flung it over to his back. By doing so, he revealed his uniformed attire with a badge displayed proudly on his right shoulder. He wore wide broad shorts socketed with various pouches hanging off on them.

Confused by his son's display, Rugue's stared blankly, trying to process the situation before him. "Why are you wearing that uniform and badge?" But after racking his brain, he remembered a promise he had made to his son, forcing him to recall their previous conversation.

"Kiddo, you might want to take a look at your shoes," Ben struggled to stifle his laughter. "You'll look like a leprechaun with that thing you're wearing," he said as he kept a straight face. But even with all his might, he still failed to contain his laughter. His uncle's loud laugh exploded from the room, clapping his right thigh with enough force that the ground below them could crack at any moment.

Upon hearing his uncle's laughter, Lionel stared at his father with a deadpan expression, as if looking at someone whose soul was about to depart for the afterlife, engulfing the entire room with his cold look. Rugues suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, sensing a tragedy that was about to happen to him.

"What?" Rugues face lit up as memories of his life passed before him. From that exact moment, a streak of light struck between his legs, causing him to slump to the ground, gasping desperately for breath.

"Blarghhh," his father cried out.

After taking a mouthful of air, he was certain he caught a glimpse of his own footwear. "Wait a minute, is that my shoe?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. However, upon seeing his son's dejected expression, he paused for a moment, then changed his mind and forced a bitter smile.

"AHAHA!"

"You didn't even spare your kid from your cheapskate habit," Ben patted his friend with a strong thud, consoling him.

Rugues felt a tinge of guilt as concern and longing crowded his heart, keeping him unsettled about his role as a father. Though he had the mind of a brilliant researcher, his heart wasn't there as a father. The memory of his son's first adventure weighed heavily on him as if an immovable boulder lodged in his heart.

Rugues sighed, as melancholy took hold of his heart. The look on his son's face reminded him of his beloved Shana, his current wife. He could vividly see the moments of her tightly wrapped in his arms, caressing her flustered face at the edge of a cliff. The memories of her soft touch and warm embrace brought solace to his heart, yet also the pain of her absence.

As he stared into the deepest corner of his chest, his heart, for the first time, appeared fragile.

Filled with guilt, Rugues set aside his obsessions and pushed his thoughts away, allowing his heart to speak for itself.

"I'm sorry. I know I haven't done a great job being your father. But this time, let me make up for my mistakes," Rugues spoke with clarity in his voice, dispelling the bitter taste in his mouth.

Lionel felt a surge of triumph with his success, but when he noticed the look on his dad's face, a strange feeling washed over him. He struggled to find the right words to express his emotions. He didn't know how to react to his father's apology, and he could feel a stone lodged in his chest.

Lionel's sobs grew louder, his small body shaking with his tears. "Dad, muff, muff," he cried as he reached out for his father.

Rugues' heart broke at the sight of his son's distress, and he opened his arms to comfort him. "Son, it's okay," he said softly, trying to calm him down.

However, before they could embrace, a hand suddenly clapped between them, interrupting their moment. "Enough with the theatrics," Ben said with annoyance, rolling his eyes at the emotional display.

"Fine, fine," Rugues sighed with discontent, sliding a bitter look at Ben's intervention.

Lionel giggled with a smile brighter than the sun, as tears still hung around his cheeks, melting the entire room with his innocent smile.

Rugues couldn't resist the urge to pinch his son's dimpled cheeks, but Ben again swiftly intervened. "No pinching," he said firmly, trying to maintain a serious expression, but failed to conceal his smile at the last moment when he noticed the adorable sight of father and son.