Creston's eyes swung open the moment a familiar rhythm of footsteps rang within earshot. He faced his old friend Solren as the mage sat on the couch opposite of him. “How did it go?” His usual cool tone held a hint of genuine curiosity.

To his question, Solren chuckled, leaning further into the fine fabric of the backrest as a maid prepared tea for them. “You created a monster, Cres. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought he wasn't human.”

While the Grand Mage had a much more outgoing personality than him, Creston knew that despite all his merry attitude, he had a great talent in masking his feelings, even if he tends to slip up for a second.

For the entire few decades they had been together, Creston never heard Solren sound more terrified than he was now; a genuine fear mixed with pure awe. Hearing him brought a frown to his face, “...Aren't you exaggerating?”

Solren scoffed, hand moving straight towards the plate of cookies that'd been served along with tea. The servants of House Salvador knew that the Grand Mage loved cookies. “It might sound like I am, but as someone whose talent in magic had been unrivaled since my childhood, I instinctively knew Silas has great potential,” he took a bite out of his cookie, and his expression melted in an instant, “You should prepare yourself, Cres~ I am the White Dragon of the Tower, but Silas would probably become the Dragon of Salvador after he graduates—actually no, maybe even before that.”

“...The moniker of a ‘dragon’, only given to the best and strongest magician?” Creston cracked a smile, “That certainly sounds tempting. I am looking forward to the day my son grows to receive such a title.”

Solren shrugged, “Man. You and your obsession with strength,” as the mage got up, he grabbed the plate of cookies with him, “That’s basically all I have to report…I have to go back and finish my papers, so is there anything else you want to know?”

“Did you check his element affinity?” Creston ignored the daylight robbery.

“Oh, yeah. He's a dual-elemental mage,” Solren replied so casually that it made Creston's surprised expression look exaggerated. “See? Even you can't hide your surprise. I almost lost it too. His elements are Lightning and Star.”

Creston calmed himself down, “...He might as well conquer the skies at this point.”

“Right?” Solren laughed, “I told him that too. Great minds think alike~”

“Ah!” Before Creston could speak, Solren suddenly whirled around, “I've got something to tell you too. Silas will definitely throw meteors at me for this, but I still think you should know about it.”

A frown creased his brows, “...What is it?”

“You know how dungeons have a unique mana of their own?” Solren's expression suddenly shifted. It held no emotion. “I've gotten the chance to meet with some people who'd escaped from falling into a dungeon. They give off a small amount of those unique mana, but Silas?” Solren averted his gaze to the floor, “He and Lady Ruelle had definitely gone into a dungeon more than once. I'm not saying this to snitch on them, but I think you should let them go wild, considering that they're doing this like it's nothing.”

“...I’m not worried about Silas, but Lady Ruelle's matters are to be discussed with the Peregrine.” Creston stated calmly, his face relaxed.

“Oh really?” Solren raised an eyebrow, “But she's going to become Ruelle Salvador in the near future anyway. Besides, are you really going to let that girl be at the mercy of that trashy excuse of a human?”

“...Marquis Hael would be ecstatic to hear that from you.”

“Woah, a joke from Creston Salvador,” Solren teased, “I'll take that as a ‘no’. Good choice, or I might really start to let the two of you share that nickname.”

Since Creston remained silent, Solren headed towards the door. Before he left, he paused shortly, though remained facing the exit, “...It's been two decades, Creston. You should really get your shit together.”

The marquis remained still even as his friend left. He took a deep breath and crane his neck to look at the ceiling, eyes lost in the intricate patterns painted above. “...I know…of course I know that…but the problem is: how?”

.

.

.

After Solren left to find Creston, the three Salvador siblings began their trek back to the mansion. Rowena had been bouncing around Zeke non-stop ever since they returned. “Swordsmanship is cool and all, but magic is a hundred times cooler!” She looked up at him with sparkly eyes, “I wish I could learn magic…” her expression suddenly turned gloomy, “I don't have enough mana to do it though.”

Zeke huffed and gave the little girl a pat on the head. Ever since he'd gotten the Mana Overlord aptitude, he saw how everyone in the family had very little mana. Enough to cast simple spells, but definitely not enough for someone like Silas Salvador to be born.

They were a true family of knights. Nature had gifted them bodies tailored for aura, and yet despite it all, they managed to give birth to a mage. “It's not all fun and games. You never liked reading, right? You have to study a lot if you want to become a good mage.”

Rowena pouted, “I, I know you don't like studying either!”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Eh?” Zeke chuckled, “I'm actually a pretty diligent student when I put my mind on something.”

“That's…!” Rowena went quiet, her expression turned meek, “Actually, that's true. You already proved it.”

As they made a turn, Solren came around the corner and barely stopped himself in time. He checked if any of his cherished cookies fell off the plate before flashing the three of them a smile. “Sorry about that, I was just about to leave,” he turned to Zeke, “Oh, right. Do you know what ‘Origin Magic’ is?”

Unless they live under a rock, every Dungeon Regime player knows that term well: Origin Magic, like its namesake, refers to a delicate yet powerful art that belongs entirely to the magician themself. No one could copy it, although there had been cases of it getting passed down the family line.

The moment Zeke responded with a nod, Solren continued. “Your lightning element is unique. You should try turning it into Origin Magic.”

“...Creating Origin Magic is quite difficult, though.” Despite his words, Zeke's voice remained steady.

Solren quickly caught onto the slight annoyance in his tone. He laughed as he replied, “I will teach you. But of course, Origin Magic manifests differently from person to person, so at best I can only act as a guide. You will have to make the journey on your own.”

“Of course,” Zeke nodded as a smile broke across his face, “Should I study on a particular topic ahead of time?”

“Oh my,” Solren blinked, “Uh, I did not expect that—You could try learning some lightning spells. Perhaps at least get to the intermediate level. I'll start teaching you after you've adjusted back to academy life…Perhaps in two weeks.”

“Aren't you underestimating me a bit, teacher?” Zeke tilted his head. He couldn't help it at all. “One week. Give me one week after academy starts. I believe I could do that much to live up to your expectations.”

At that point, Solren saw no point in arguing. His skills backed up his confidence. “...Alright, but if you need an extension for whatever reason, feel free to contact me.” Solren handed a badge to Zeke. Its pure platinum body had the image of a dragon carved into it, its eyes an alternating color just like the Grand Mage himself. “Just poor mana into it, I'll easily recognize yours and respond as soon as I can.”

“Yes, thank you teacher.” Zeke smiled and offered a courteous bow.

“No need to be so formal,” Solren patted him on the shoulder as he lifted his head. “I'm technically your uncle, you know? Me and Creston are blood brothers! We swore in front of Arzhel that day and—”

“Solren.” Speak of the devil, Creston Salvador's stern voice rang from behind Solren. While his expression remained as still and stoic as ever, the look in his eyes screamed cold-blooded murder. “Did you not say you have to finish your research papers? Why are you still here?”

“Oh c'mon, I was just having a little farewell chat~” Solren waved his plate of cookies around. “I'm on my way out anyway, it's just so happened that I ran into these cuties.”

Creston remained steadfast, immovable like a stone statue, “You can teleport, Solren. There's no need for you to walk out the front door.”

“Ngh!” Solren narrowed his eyes, pouting like a child who got denied candy by his parents. Despite his silent protest, he drew a magic circle beneath his feet. “Fine! In return, I'll be taking these cookies with me!”

“...Do as you wish, you were already planning to take them anyway.” Creston sighed.

Solren's expression brightened as he turned to Zeke, giving him a short wave as the circle's light engulfed his figure. Soon, he disappeared, and left behind only his farewell smile.

Lysander faced his father, “...Would you like to join us, Father?”

Creston's emotions still remained unreadable, “Where are you going?”

“To have lunch with Mother.”

Zeke wondered if his healing eyes mistook it, but he thought he saw Creston cringed at the response. “...Very well,” his voice held steady. Zeke thought he must've seen wrong, “But will you be going in those attires? Only Silas look presentable, even if he’s in house clothes.”

“I do not mind.” Everyone turned towards Esmeralda as she announced her presence. The personal maid walked a respectable distance away from her mistress. It became more difficult to take note of her when Esmeralda's pastel pink dress gave her the appearance of a fairy draped in cherry blossoms. “I was wondering why you three were late. It seemed Lord Solren held you back for longer than planned.”

“Mother, there's no need for you to personally come get us.” Lysander remarked.

“Mother!” Rowena rushed to Esmeralda's side, hugging her leg as she looked up at her gleefully. “Did you wait long? We were just about to come over!”

“So it seems. I came out for no reason.” Esmeralda chuckled, lowering herself just enough to ruffle the little girl's hair. “Let us go, then. Before all the food gets cold.” As she straightened herself and turned to leave, she turned to face them, specifically Creston, and offered a polite smile. “You are free to join us, my lord.”

The marquess remained quiet, but followed them to the marchioness’ quarters anyway. Soon, they arrived at their destination and a butler opened the door into the dining room for them. It looked identical to one at the marquess’ estate, only the decorations differed, albeit so slightly that no one would notice unless they paid attention.

Creston and Esmeralda took their seats on the opposite end of the table, while the children gathered around the remaining seats. Zeke and Lysander sat close to Creston, but Rowena opted to sit near Esmeralda.

“I wasn't expecting an extra seat, so I only set the small table,” the marchioness explained calmly as the servants delivered their meals, “I hope my lord does not mind.”

“...Of course not,” Creston shook his head, “I intruded on a scheduled meal. I should not complain.”

They usually dine on a longer table, though this time, the close proximity of their seats brought an odd feeling to Creston's chest. He had no issues eating with other nobles and his eldest son, yet for some reason, the family gathering made him nervous.

It seemed only the marquess felt that way, since the other Salvadors nonchalantly dug into the appetizers while waiting for the main course. Creston took a deep breath and picked a piece of garlic bread to munch on.

“Silas, why are you using your hand?” Lysander frowned at Zeke, his fork and knife stopping half-way from tearing apart the bread on his plate.

Zeke looked at him as if he was crazy, “Who the f—Who eats bread with a fork and knife?” In an act of defiance, he took a bite off of his snack.

“You're of noble blood, show some dignity.” Lysander's eyes caught on the sight of his father uncaringly eating the bread in his hand. They held each other's gaze in silence for a moment. Eventually, the elder brother lowered his utensils. “...I take that back. It's whatever.”

“Should be fine if it's just us,” Rowena murmured, her mouth still filled with half a spring roll, “Who even cares about the proper table etiquettes these days? You're such a boomer, Lysander.”

“A boomer???” Lysander's genuine confusion earned a stifled laughter from Zeke. When the elder brother looked at him, he almost choked on his food. “Silas? What is she talking about?”

“Circe definitely taught her that. What the fuck…!?” Zeke carefully swallowed and took a deep breath, calming himself down. “In short, she called you an old man, brother.”

Lysander narrowed his eyes, facing Rowena, “What…!?”

She smirked and shrugged, “Exactly as Silas said. You're a boomer, Lysander.”

And suddenly the atmosphere became lively. Zeke had never seen someone as calm and collected as Lysander got so flustered before. He kept making arguments about her mannerism, but Rowena simply laughed and made quips right back at him.

From the edge of his vision, Zeke saw frustration flashed across Creston's face. Before he could speak up, Esmeralda let out a soft chuckle, melting the ice off of the marquess’ expression in an instant. He simply returned to his meal quietly as if nothing ever happened.

Zeke looked back and forth between Creston and Esmeralda. No one noticed it, but his brain immediately began analyzing that abrupt behavior just now. “He backed down? The Creston Salvador decided to let things slide? No freaking way…”

By then, the main course had arrived. The two siblings still continued their bickering even as the food had been set down in front of them. Zeke snuck a glance at Creston for a moment, and noticed how his gaze kept sliding onto Esmeralda whenever she moved. He only decided to pick up his own utensils when the marchioness began eating.

“Nah…I'm definitely overthinking this. Their stories suggested zero romance potential.” Zeke lightly shook his head, shifting his attention towards his plate. Today's lunch consisted of roasted chicken salad. The aroma of the meat and spice completely pushed aside whatever thoughts ran through his mind a moment ago. Surely, they weren't more important than filling his stomach.