Arthur and Dominic sit in the back of Arthur’s limo as Max drives through the quiet streets. Dominic is fast asleep, his head gently resting against the doggie plush toy clutched in his arms.
The toy, a soft and fluffy representation of a small dog, nestles against his chest as if it were his most treasured possession. His bag sits beside him, half-open but untouched, its contents secure.
The sight tugs at Arthur’s heart, and he can’t help but smile at the peacefulness on Dominic’s face. His best friend, who had just faced death’s door, is now dozing off as if nothing had happened, the toy’s tiny ears peeking out from beneath his hand, making the whole scene almost unbearably cute.
“Look at you,” Arthur murmurs, his smile widening. “Relaxing like nothing happened.”
For a moment, he lets the warmth of the scene wash over him. Dominic’s steady breathing, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and his serene expression as he hugs the toy give Arthur a rare sense of peace.
But that peace is fleeting. His eyes shift to the window, where the cityscape blurs and his thoughts turn dark, returning to the horrors of the temple.
He can still see it—Dominic’s body, motionless and drenched in blood—a jagged and cruel spear juts from his chest, its tip coated in crimson. The image haunts Arthur’s mind, each detail seared into his memory—the grotesque way the spear had pierced Dominic’s flesh, the sickening sound of it lodging deep within, and the pool of blood that spread across the floor. Arthur has never seen so much blood.
His stomach twists as the memory replays, the helplessness he felt at that moment crushing him. He had thought Dominic—his best friend—was gone, ripped away from him in the most brutal way. The sight had paralyzed him, the fear, the despair. How could anyone survive that?
But then, something impossible had happened.
The spear had disintegrated into dust, vanishing as though it had never existed. Arthur watched, stunned, as Dominic’s body began to heal itself, the gaping wound closing before his very eyes, the blood retreating as if time had reversed. It was as if Dominic had never been touched by death at all.
Arthur’s heart races at the memory. He hadn’t sensed any Mana during the healing—there was no trace of magic, no sign of external interference. The whole event had defied everything he knew about the natural laws of Sylvestria.
He should have more questions but only cares about getting Dominic to safety. The temple had revealed a hidden staircase, and Arthur had rushed them both out, cradling Dominic in his arms, not stopping to think.
After finding help, Arthur was treated for his injuries while Dominic was rushed to the ICU. The fear gripped him then was almost as bad as in the temple—waiting, not knowing if Dominic would be okay. But when the doctors finally spoke, they had nothing to report. No wounds. No holes. They had looked at Arthur like he was crazy.
-“Your friend is fine. There’s no injury to treat.” they said
And that should have brought Arthur joy—and it did, at first. Relief flooded him when he heard those words. Dominic was alive. Dominic had survived.
But with that relief came confusion: How could Dominic be fine? How could his body have healed so quickly and completely that even the doctors couldn’t explain it?
Arthur had pressed for answers, but the more questions he asked, the more bewildered the staff. No one had sensed any Mana in Dominic’s body—no trace of magic. No explanation.
Arthur can’t believe it. What had caused Dominic to heal like that? How could a Manaless recover from something that should have killed him?
“How… how did you do it, Doms?” Arthur whispers, his voice barely audible over the hum of the limo’s engine.
His gaze lingers on Dominic’s peaceful face, searching for answers in the quiet. How had his best friend returned from the brink of death? What had he done that even powerful Magicians couldn’t?
And then, a disturbing thought crosses Arthur’s mind, sending a chill down his spine.
“Could it be that… you’re not the Doms I used to know… but a demon disguising yourself as him?”
The thought makes Arthur's heart lurch in his chest. His stomach twists with doubt, his mind racing with theories he wishes he could ignore. Only demons can regenerate without using Mana from the documentaries he’s read and watched. A pit forms in his chest as the idea claws into his consciousness.
But… no. It can’t be. He shakes his head, refusing to believe it. Dominic can’t be a demon. Besides, Arthur’s Light Magic would have detected it by now—his magic is sensitive to demonic presences. He would have known if something was wrong.
"There has to be another explanation..." Arthur mutters, trying to reassure himself.
His mind whirls with possibilities, but none seem plausible. Could it be a hidden ability? A secret magical artifact Dominic had found? Or maybe an ancient spell? He racks his brain, searching for a logical answer.
However, all the theories seem impossible in Dominic’s case.
Unless...
"Are you hiding something from me, Doms?"
The question weighs heavily on Arthur’s heart, and sadness floods him. He doesn’t want to believe that Dominic could keep something so huge from him. They are best friends, brothers in all but blood. But what if Dominic is hiding something? What if the person he thought he knew wasn’t telling him the truth?
Arthur’s heart aches at the thought. He looks down at Dominic’s peaceful face, the soft toy still clutched in his hands. Could someone who looks so innocent and vulnerable hide something so dark? The thought tears at Arthur, twisting his emotions into a painful knot.
"Why won’t you tell me?" Arthur whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re best friends…”
A lump forms in his throat, and he swallows hard, trying to push back the heartache. The uncertainty, confusion, and fear of the unknown weigh on him, threatening to overwhelm him.
“I just… I want to understand.”
He stares out the window again, the scenery passing in a blur, his thoughts far from the peaceful night outside. For the first time in their friendship, Arthur feels a distance between him and Dominic that he doesn’t know how to bridge. And that thought hurts more than anything else.
“Could it be that after I wanted to duel with you…Did you figure out that I feel envious of you?” Arthur mutters, his voice barely a whisper as if admitting this aloud would shatter something fragile between them.
Arthur wouldn’t be surprised if Dominic had figured it out. Dominic is always perceptive—smarter than him, sharper in ways that Arthur could never be. The thought tightens like a knot in his chest. Even in moments of life and death, his feelings of envy linger, rotting in the back of his mind. It is a bitter reminder of how he has always been overshadowed.
He clenches his fist, the memories of their past interactions flooding back. Every time Dominic excelled without even trying, every moment Arthur had to grit his teeth and smile while feeling left behind. He had challenged Dominic to a duel back then, not just out of rivalry but from envy—the envy of Dominic's natural talents.
Arthur shakes his head. Now is not the time for such feelings. Dominic had nearly died, and here he is, feeling envy. Guilt washes over him, cold and heavy. How can he be so selfish? How can he let those feelings fester when his best friend has been lying on the brink of death?
But, unbeknownst to Arthur, Dominic hasn’t truly pieced together the depths of Arthur’s envy. Despite his high instinct stats and their bond, Dominic has missed this subtle turmoil within Arthur. He hasn'tcommunicate realized that a sea of insecurities and envy lies behind Arthur's smiles and friendly demeanor—a conflict that Arthur struggles to reconcile.
Arthur glances at Dominic’s sleeping form, his fist slowly unclenching. As much as he wrestles with his emotions, one thing is clear: envy has no place here. Not now, when he has nearly lost his best friend.
With a deep sigh, Arthur lets the tension drain from his body. For now, he will push those feelings aside. He will focus on what matters—keeping Dominic safe. There will be time to confront his demons later.
“Young master, we’ve arrived at Monsieur Dominic’s house,” Max announces from the front seat, his voice polite yet firm.
Arthur glances out the window, and sure enough, they are parked in front of Dominic’s home. He turns back to look at Dominic, still peacefully asleep, the plush toy held tightly in his arms. A soft smile tugs at Arthur's lips.
“Hey, Doms, wake up,” Arthur says gently as he reaches over and shakes Dominic’s shoulder with a light, careful touch.
Dominic mumbles something incoherent and buries his face deeper into the plush toy.
"Five more minutes," he mutters, his voice slurred with sleep.
Arthur chuckles softly. Despite the envy that often clouds his heart, moments like these make him forget all that, if only for a little while. It is hard to stay resentful when Dominic looks so… human, so endearingly vulnerable.
But Arthur knows Dominic’s secret. With a mischievous glint, he reaches out and pokes Dominic's left side, right at his weak spot.
Immediately, Dominic jerks awake, eyes wide as he flinches away.
“Wha—?!” Dominic exclaims, blinking rapidly as he sits up straight, clutching his side defensively.
Arthur grins, unable to hold back a laugh. He had discovered this weak spot during their second year of middle school. No matter how gifted Dominic is, that one spot remains a surefire way to rouse him from even the deepest sleep.
“Arthur?” Dominic asks, still groggy and confused, his eyes narrowing as he rubs his side.
“No, I’m Eugeo,” Arthur replies with a smirk, his tone playful.
Dominic rolls his eyes, but a small smile creeps onto his face despite himself. "Very funny," he mutters, shaking off the remnants of sleep.
“Hahahaha!” Arthur’s laughter fills the car, a light and genuine sound.
Dominic smiles and turns to look out the window, his eyes widening slightly when he sees his house—the reality of where they are settling in, tightening his heart.
“André… Celine…” he mutters softly, his voice barely a whisper, quiet enough that Arthur can’t hear it.
His parents—or rather, Dominic’s parents—are another part of the life he has been forced into. The weight of his promise, or rather, the promise he had been coerced into making, presses down on him. He never wanted to accept that responsibility, but now he has no choice. It doesn’t make it any easier.
Standing at the house's threshold, Dominic can’t help but wonder if André and Celine know what had happened. Do they know he had been hospitalized? Do they know how close he had come to death?
“Arthur,” Dominic begins hesitantly, “do Mum and Dad know about me being hospitalized?”
Arthur shakes his head. “No. I was about to call them, but you woke up.”
“I see…” Dominic’s gaze flickers with a mix of emotions. Relief, guilt, and an underlying tension he can't shake. “But why didn’t you call them despite me nearly dying?”
His question hangs in the air, not as a reprimand of Arthur’s decision but as a genuine curiosity. Why hadn’t Arthur reached out?
In truth, Dominic is grateful that Arthur hadn’t called them. He doesn’t want to deal with the complications arising from that conversation. The questions they would ask, the explanations they would demand—it is something he isn’t ready to face.
Arthur bites his lip, the guilt surfacing in his eyes. "Well… aside from you waking up, I didn’t want them to worry too much. If you would be okay, there was no point in scaring them.”
The words feel hollow, even to Arthur. He can't understand his decision now that he is saying it out loud. Why hadn’t he called André and Celine when Dominic was on the brink of death? Sure, Dominic had woken up, but that doesn't erase the fact that he had nearly lost him. His stomach churns with the realization that he should have acted differently, and his parents had a right to know.
Dominic, however, feels a wave of relief washes over him. He is glad Arthur hadn't made that call. If André and Celine knew, they would inevitably bombard him with questions about what had happened at the temple. Questions about the Scepter of Binding. It would only complicate his situation further, perhaps even arousing suspicion.
"Thanks, Arthur," Dominic says, his voice sincere.
Arthur blinks, taken aback. “Uh… no problem?”
He doesn’t understand. From his perspective, not calling André and Celine was a mistake that should have been corrected. He hesitated because he feared worrying them, but it was the wrong decision. And now, here is Dominic, thanking him for it.
The confusion twists in Arthur's mind. He can't fathom why Dominic would be relieved, why he would prefer to keep his parents in the dark about his near-death experience. But then again, Dominic has changed. There is something different about him—something Arthur can't quite put his finger on.
Dominic notices the puzzled look on Arthur’s face and lets out a small sigh.
"It's just… easier this way. They don’t need to worry more than they already do."
Arthur nods slowly, still uncertain. "If you say so..."
At that moment, Dominic feels the chasm between them widen slightly more. Arthur doesn't understand, and Dominic isn't sure he ever could.
There are too many secrets now, too many things left unsaid. And as they sit in the limo, the silence settles between them like an unspoken agreement that some things are better left unexplored.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
Dominic Eñeforte
I stand in front of the house after two hours, taking a moment to steady myself. If André asks about the 'Scepter of Binding,’ I'll just say Arthur bought it for me as a gift. I sigh softly, taking a deep breath to calm my nerves before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
Clark, André, and Celine sit together at the dinner table. André must have returned from his emergency Stargate raid. They all look up as I enter, their faces lighting up with smiles.
"Welcome home, Dominic," Celine greets warmly.
"Dominic!" Clark exclaims, leaping off his chair and running toward me. He wraps his arms around my leg in a tight hug, nearly knocking me off balance.
I smile and ruffle his hair. "Hey, Clark."
Reaching into my bag, I pull out the plush dog I bought for him. "Here, a gift for you."
Clark's eyes sparkle with excitement. "Woah! A toy!" He eagerly grabs the plush and hugs it close. "Thank you, Dominic!"
I can't help but smile at his excitement. Clark finally has his first toy, something I never had when I was younger. His joy is infectious, filling the room with warmth and a fleeting sense of normalcy. It’s a simple moment, but one that fills my heart. Yet, deep down, I know this joy won't last forever. Sooner or later, Clark will have to return to his own universe. But for now, that thought has to wait—I need to secure the remaining artifact for the Manaficial ritual first.
"So, how was the trip?" André asks, his eyes locking onto mine.
"It was great. We explored the 'Temple du Sceptre Lié.'"
"I see. Then, what's that magic artifact I'm sensing in your bag?"
I sigh. The inevitable question has arrived. I open my bag and carefully take out the 'Scepter of Binding.' "Do you mean this, Dad?"
“…”
André remains silent, his gaze fixed and intense. It feels like he’s trying to peer into my very soul, searching for the truth behind my words. His piercing eyes make a shiver run down my spine.
In the corner of my vision, I notice Celine inching closer to André from behind, her hand poised to strike.
-Smack!
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"Ouch!" André winces, rubbing his head as he turns to face her. "What was that for?"
"For scaring Dominic, fufu!" Celine teases, her laughter light and playful.
I can't help but feel a mix of amusement and disbelief at their interaction. It's such a familiar, domestic moment that it makes me feel both at home and slightly out of place.
"But I have every right to be suspicious!" André retorts, his tone a mix of exasperation and concern. "Last time, he brought home a magic mirror, and I didn't say anything about it since you mentioned that he got it from Arthur. And now he's brought back another magic artifact!"
So, André knew that the Mirror of Lysandra was a magic artifact but chose not to confront me about it then. I can understand his protectiveness. He wants to ensure that the family stays safe and that there won't be any unforeseen consequences from the artifacts I’ve been bringing home.
Celine places a reassuring hand on André's shoulder, her smile gentle yet firm. "André, let's hear him out. Dominic, can you explain why you have these artifacts, how you got them, and what you plan to do with them?"
I nod, already crafting my explanation. I don’t plan to reveal the Scepter's role in the Manaficial ritual—at least, not now. Instead, I’ll use the same lie I did with the Mirror of Lysandra: that it's a gift from Arthur.
"Arthur bought it for me as a gift, and I plan to sell it for many Camilliums."
André crosses his arms, his expression skeptical. "Are you sure that's all it's for?"
"Dad, it's just a way to earn some extra Camilliums," I insist, hoping my lie will stick.
André’s eyes narrow, and I can see the wheels turning in his head. "You're selling a gift from Arthur?" he asks, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. "What have you become, Dominic? Selling gifts right away from your best friend—your brother in all but blood? The Dominic I know would never do something like that."
I feel a pang in my chest at his words. He's right. The original Dominic would never dream of selling something Arthur had given him. The guilt would eat him alive. But this was a lie I crafted, so it didn’t carry the same weight. To me, it was simply a necessary deception.
"Dad," I reply, trying to keep my voice calm and steady, "Arthur gave it to me, so it’s mine now. I have the right to sell it."
“…”
André looks at me for a moment longer, searching my face for cracks in my facade. His silence is heavy as if he's weighing my words against the Dominic he thought he knew. Finally, he nods, though his eyes remain wary.
"Alright," he says, his voice quiet. "If that’s what you want to do."
Relief floods through me, but it's bittersweet. I know I've managed to dodge a bullet, at least for now.
He and Celine exchange glances, and it feels like they’re communicating without words for a brief moment. Did they… silently agree on something? The unspoken understanding between them makes me uneasy.
Suddenly, André grabs both of my shoulders, his expression softening in a way that catches me off guard.
"Dominic, you're selling these artifacts because you want to become a Manaficial, right?"
"I—I… Uhh..."
His question hits me like a bolt out of the blue. I wasn’t expecting him to figure it out so easily, and the gentle concern in his eyes only made it harder to answer.
Before I can respond, Celine steps forward and wraps her arms around me in a warm, motherly embrace.
"Dominic, if that's what you want, you can ask us to help. We can handle the steep cost."
Her words touch something deep inside me, stirring a complicated mixture of emotions. Ever since I transmigrated into Sylvestria in Dominic's body, I’ve been resolute in not asking them to cover the cost of the Manaficial procedure. It was too much—1 billion Camilliums is a price no family should shoulder, no matter how much they cared.
In my previous life, my parents went into heavy debt to cover my tuition fees, and I couldn't let André and Celine go through something similar. It would be irresponsible, not to mention shameful. I’ve been determined to find another way, even if it meant doing it alone.
Besides, even though André bought me expensive clothes after my Stargate training, I still have no real idea how much money they have. Asking them to cover such a colossal expense wasn’t something I could bring myself to do.
So, I decide to lie, burying the truth deep down. "Mum, Dad, you're both overthinking this. I just wanted to have some Camilliums of my own."
Celine and André exchange another look, filled with quiet doubt, but they turn back to me, seemingly willing to accept my words for now.
"Okay… if you say so," André replies, his tone gentle but still laced with caution. He ruffles my hair the way he always does, his affection clear despite his lingering concerns. "But remember, if something’s bothering you, you can come to us anytime. Don't hesitate."
I nod, smiling gratefully. "Yeah, I will."
"Good," Celine adds with a warm smile. "Now, let's sit down for dinner and discuss your trip."
"Ohhh! I want to hear the story, too!"
Clark pipes up, his excitement bubbling over as he clutches the plush toy I gave him close to his chest. His wide eyes are practically glowing with anticipation.
I smile, unable to resist ruffling his hair again. "Sure thing, Clark. I’ll tell you all about the adventure."
As I settle down at the table with them, I can’t help but feel a sense of relief. I’d dodged a more probing interrogation, at least for the moment. I began recounting the trip to the 'Temple du Sceptre Lié,' carefully weaving together a tale of exploration, leaving out the parts where Arthur and I raided the temple. I stuck to what the tour guide presented us—at least that part was safe.
As I spoke, the tension in the room eased. The heavy questions faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of shared stories, laughter, and the simple joy of being together. For now, the secrets I carried stayed hidden, and I allowed myself to enjoy this fleeting moment of peace, even as I knew it wouldn’t last forever.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
After the heartfelt dinner, I find myself in my bedroom. I carefully take out the 'Scepter of Binding' and place it on my desk, its ominous presence filling the small space. I unload my extra clothes into the laundry basket, moving with slow, heavy steps. Every part of me feels utterly drained, both mentally and physically. I stretch my arms upward, feeling the tension pull at my muscles before letting out a long, tired sigh.
"Haa!" I groan, collapsing onto the bed face-first.
Rolling over, I stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts still scattered. "I forgot… tomorrow is Monday. Ugh."
Returning to school feels overwhelming. After everything that’s happened, it’s hard to imagine slipping back into the mundane routine. But I know I need to. According to the web novel, middle school grades are essential for determining which class I might enroll in at Verdant Arcanum’s enrollment process. I can’t afford to fall behind.
Still, my thoughts drift, and the weight of the promise I’ve been carrying begins to press down on me again.
“Dominic… this promise you made me do…”
The original Dominic’s promise—his forceful plea for me to protect his family, his friends, and everything he held dear—feels like a chain, something I can never escape.
I never agreed to this. I didn’t ask to take over someone else’s life. And yet, here I am, tangled in Dominic’s world, carrying responsibilities I never wanted. Protecting André, Celine, Arthur, Lumi—people who care for me as if I were truly him. But I’m not.
A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “If only they knew.”
Part of me wonders what Dominic felt in his final moments. Was he afraid? Did he regret the life he lived? And why… why did he leave this promise to me, of all people? Did he think I could fulfill what he couldn’t?
I roll over onto my side, my gaze falling on the Scepter of Binding. It gleams faintly in the dim light, its power undeniable, yet it feels like another burden. I wonder if Dominic knew about the ritual. I wonder if he was prepared for what it would demand of me. Of us.
“I didn’t choose this, Dominic,” I whisper into the silence. “But I’ll see it through… for now.”
Master, please don't forget to distribute the 70 Stat Points you earned earlier!
The familiar red holographic screen appears before me again.
"Oh, right."
I had completely forgotten about the stat points with everything that's happened—the spear wound, the unsettling conversation with Dominic.
"And I've reached intermediate in 'Basic Gun Arts,' too."
Reaching the intermediate level in Basic Gun Arts feels like a great milestone. This isn't just some minor achievement; it’s a testament to how far I’ve come.
Curious about my progress, I call out, "System, show me my status."
INFO Name: Dominic Eñerforte
Age: 15
Title: None STATS Strength: 241.5 (D)
Endurance: 253.5 (D+)
Agility: 238.5 (D)
Speed: 251.5 (D+)
Mana: 0 (F)
Luck: 402 (C+)
Instinct: 747 (A+)
Charisma: 362 (C)
Stat Points: 70 MANUAL ARTS Basic Gun Arts (D+) – Intermediate (0%)
Basic Gun Arts encompass a wide range of basic combat techniques involving the use of firearms from range to melee. This art form requires physical dexterity to shoot and maneuver accurately and a deep understanding of the firearms themselves—maintenance, bullet types, and the physics of shooting.
Seeing my status, I feel a deep sense of satisfaction. I've progressed so much, but the recent incident leaves me cautious. Despite my instincts and high Luck, the spear attack has me second-guessing my priorities.
Did bad luck lead to the spear wound, or did my instincts fail me? I wonder.
"Hmm…" I murmur, considering my next move.
After reflecting on my recent experiences, I decided to allocate my points carefully. Strength, Endurance, and Speed are vital for survival, but I also need to improve my Agility and Luck. If I want to continue growing physically and mentally, I’ll need balance.
"System, add 10 points each to Strength, Endurance, and Speed, and 20 to Agility and Luck."
Strength: 241.5 > 251.5 (D+)
Endurance: 253.5 > 263.5 (D+)
Agility: 238.5 > 258.5 (D+)
Speed: 251.5 > 261.5 (D+)
Luck: 402 > 422 (C+)
After making the adjustments, I feel an inexplicable sense of increased Luck, as though the universe has subtly shifted in my favor.
SYSTEM UPDATE Notice: You have reached [D+] in Strength, Endurance, Speed, and Agility. Would you like to install the new update?
[YES/NO]
I can’t help but grin. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
"Yes."
Updating…..
0%/100%
ETA: 51 Years and four months.
Wait… 51 years?!
“What?! You've got to be kidding me!"
I blink and shake my head, hoping it's some glitch.
Updating…..
100%/100%
ETA: 0 Minute(s)
I let out a sigh of relief, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. "Of course, it was a glitch," I mutter under my breath.
As the update completed, another notification popped up, catching my attention.
System Update Notice:
You have unlocked the "Skill Section"!
I pause. The Skill Section? That piqued my curiosity.
"System, what's the 'Skill Section'?"
"Skill Section" is a system section where you can use your skills.
Simple enough. But what exactly is a skill? The term didn’t seem like it belonged to the established system of Sylvestria. Was it like a spell?
"What's a skill?"
"Skills" are specialized abilities or techniques that you can perform. They are categorized based on their nature (combat, magic, crafting, etc.)
A rush of excitement surged through me. Skills—specialized abilities—did that mean I now had access to abilities outside of what magic users typically had? But wait, if these were skills, did I need Mana to activate them?
No, Master. Spells require Mana, while Skills require energy from me—the System.
The answer was surprising. The energy for these “Skills” didn’t come from Mana? That meant the energy was independent of Sylvestria’s magic system. It was something unique to me—something that set me apart from the Magicians or Manaficials around me.
But how did this energy work? How could the System fuel abilities without relying on the soul-bound Mana? In Sylvestria, Mana was connected to life itself, tied to an individual’s soul or life force.
Yet here I was, with a power entirely separate from that system—a power drawn from the System itself, raising more questions than answers.
What exactly is this System and where does it draw its energy from?
"System, what do you mean that these Skills require—"
-Knock! Knock!
The sudden knocking interrupts me. I wasn’t expecting anyone—Celine, Clark, or André—especially at this hour.
"Who is it?" I call out, a little puzzled.
"It's Clark."
Clark? He usually barges in without a second thought. Why knock now? Curiosity piques me.
"Come in," I respond.
-Creak!
The door slowly opens, and Clark stands in his onesie, clutching the plushie I gave him earlier. But something's wrong—his small face is etched with sadness, starkly contrasting the joy he’d shown at dinner.
"Hey, Clark, what's wrong?" I ask, my voice softening as concern floods in.
"I… I had a nightmare…" His voice is barely a whisper, fragile and trembling.
I instantly understand. Nightmares can be terrifying, especially for someone like Clark, stranded in a world so different from his own. I pat the bed beside me, inviting him over.
"Come here."
Clark hesitates for a moment but then slowly approaches and climbs onto the bed, still clutching the plushie tightly.
"So, do you want to talk about it?" I gently prod, hoping he'll open up and share what’s bothering him.
He nods, eyes downcast, his voice trembling. "Mama… and Papa… they were waiting for me to come home… They were crying…"
His words hang in the air, weighed down by the kind of sadness that seems too heavy for a child. He’s not just talking about a bad dream—he’s expressing the deep, gnawing fear of being separated from his parents, of being lost in a world that isn’t his. And I can see how much it’s hurting him.
The guilt of separation. The yearning for home. I stay quiet, letting him speak his truth without interruption.
His fear strikes something deep inside me. How do I reassure him? How do I comfort a child who knows he doesn’t belong here? I could tell him we’ll find a way to get him home, but the future is uncertain. How can I make promises when I’m unsure of the answer myself?
I pull Clark closer, wrapping my arm around his small frame. His head rests against my chest, and I offer him what I can—a protective embrace. It may not erase his fears, but it’s something.
"I know it’s tough, buddy," I murmur, my voice low. "But you're safe here with me, and I promise we’ll find a way to get you home. I won’t let you go through this alone."
Clark nods, his small body leaning into mine. The room falls into a quiet stillness, save for the soft rustling of his plushie as he snuggles closer to me.
After a long silence, Clark speaks again, his voice small but steady. "Dominic…"
"Yeah?" I answer softly.
"Can I… call you big brother?"
His request catches me off guard. The words hit me in a way I hadn’t expected. Growing up, I never had a sibling—I never felt what it was like to be someone’s 'big brother.' I had only been close to my parents, which was even more complicated in my past life. But now… here was Clark, my younger version from another world, seeking a connection, a sense of belonging that was slipping away from him.
I knew at that moment that he deserved better—that he needed someone to look out for him. And somehow, I’d become that person. I couldn’t deny him that comfort.
"Sure, bud," I say softly, a gentle smile forming.
Clark smiles back, his eyes brighter now, and hugs me closer. His small body relaxes into mine, and the room fills with warmth. His words carry their weight, solidifying something between us—a bond neither of us could have anticipated.
I wrap my arm around him protectively, holding him close as he drifts off to sleep. In this moment, I can give him the reassurance he needs. He’s safe, at least for tonight. And as I feel his breathing slow, I know that, for now, that’s enough.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
André and Celine lie together in bed, the soft moonlight gently illuminating their room, casting a serene glow through the curtains. Celine nestles closer to André, her head resting on his chest, finding solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His arm holds her close, the tender gesture reflecting years of love, trust, and shared experiences.
Celine sighs softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest as her thoughts linger on their son. She gazes up at André, worry clouding her usually bright eyes.
"André, do you believe what Dominic said earlier? That he needs to sell those artifacts for Camilliums?" Her voice carries a hint of concern, a mother’s worry that she can’t shake off.
André pauses, his hand gently stroking her hair as he considers her question. The silence stretches for a moment before he finally speaks, his voice thoughtful and measured.
"Yes… but I believe that's not the whole truth."
Celine shifts slightly, lifting her head to meet his gaze. Her brow furrows in concern, her lips pressed tightly as she waits for him to continue.
"Then why didn’t you press him more?" she asks softly, her voice filled with quiet urgency.
André sighs deeply, his expression softening as he brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch full of tenderness. "Celine, if we push him too hard, he might close himself off. He’s at an age where he’s figuring things out, and if we pressure him, he may not tell us anything at all. We have to wait until he’s ready to open up. When the time comes, he’ll tell us everything."
Celine’s gaze lingers on André, and though she trusts his judgment, the worry in her heart remains. She rests her head back on his chest, the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat offering some comfort.
"What if he already knows about our debt?" she whispers, her voice barely audible.
André’s hand pauses for a moment before he responds, his voice steady but laced with concern. "He might. And that’s why he’s selling those artifacts… to try and afford the Manaficial Ritual himself."
Celine exhales softly, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on her. "Even with our debt, I want to pay for the Manaficial procedure…"
André tightens his hold on her, his voice a mix of empathy and pragmatism. "Celine, I know you and I both want to help Dominic, but we have to consider our financial situation. We're barely managing as it is."
They both fall silent for a moment, the enormity of their financial struggles hanging between them. Despite owning 5 percent of the land in the Golden Fields Region, their finances were a mess—debt that had plagued them for 16 years, starting a year before Dominic was even born. This crippling debt was the reason Dominic hadn’t been able to undergo the Manaficial procedure despite his clear potential.
"And despite my shares in Avenue de l'Aurore, it’s still not enough to climb out of this hole," Celine says, her frustration evident.
André nods. "The debt is too large… It’s been hanging over us for so long, and with every year, it only grows. I’ve considered taking on more Stargate Raiding missions, especially those ranked [S] or higher."
Celine stiffens in his arms, the tension radiating through her. "You’re talking about raiding those missions alone, right?" Her voice is tinged with worry.
André hesitates before speaking. "Yes. The payment is better when it’s not split among a team, and with the increasing number of Stargates appearing lately, it’s an opportunity we can’t afford to miss."
"But André… even though you're a [SS] Ranked Magician, handling [S] Rank Stargates is still dangerous," Celine says, her voice shaking slightly. "And doing it alone… it’s too risky. What if something goes wrong? You know what might happen if you push yourself too far and use your full magic. ‘He’ could take over."
André's expression softens as he hears the tremor in her voice. He gently cups her cheek, pulling her closer so she can see the reassurance in his eyes.
"Celine, I’ll be careful. I won’t let him take over. I promise."
Celine’s worry doesn’t entirely fade, but she allows herself to lean into his comfort, trusting in his words. He has always been strong—strong for her, strong for Dominic—but she knows the risks he faces when he uses his full power. And the thought of losing him to that darkness sends chills down her spine.
They hold each other for a long moment, wrapped in the stillness of the night. The only sound is the quiet rustle of their breathing as they draw comfort from one another’s presence.
After a long silence, Celine breaks it with a small laugh.
"André, I just remembered something… didn’t you spend 100,000 Camilliums after Dominic’s first Stargate training?"
André tenses slightly, trying to play it off as nothing, but Celine's mischievous smirk doesn’t go unnoticed.
"Well… yeah, but—"
-Smack!
Celine lightly hits his arm, her laughter bubbling up. "100,000 Camilliums on clothes? For Dominic? Really?"
André rubs his arm, pretending to be wounded. "I got carried away! I was just… proud, okay? He raided an [E] ranked Stargate and did so well. I might’ve gone overboard."
"You think?" Celine teases, crossing her arms with a mock glare. "You, of all people, spending that much on clothes… I couldn’t believe it!"
André grins sheepishly. "In my defense, it was a special occasion."
Celine rolls her eyes but can’t help the laughter that escapes. She shakes her head fondly, leaning into him again. "Honestly, André… what will I do with you?"
André chuckles, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Just love me like you always have."
She smiles softly, her head resting on his chest once more. "I already do."
The world's weight may press down on them, but in moments like this—together—they find a way to carry it just a little bit easier.