The inside of the house was gloomy as Alexander prepared to go out in search of someone to care for the child. Suddenly, he heard a dry cough coming from one of the rooms.

Then, a hazy voice called out, "Kael, where are you? What happened? Tell me."

Alexander stopped in his tracks and looked back. There was a small hallway with at least two rooms, and the voice came from behind the left door.

Alexander walked toward it, and as he slowly pushed the door open, he saw a worn-out bed with a tattered quilt. On the bed lay an old man who immediately caught his attention.

The old man's face was gaunt and malnourished, his expression pale as though he was on the brink of death, reacting to the sound of the creaking door.

He struggled to open his eyelids, and when he did, he saw a man wrapped in a green quilt, holding his unconscious grandson, Kael, in his arms.

His eyes turned red as he gritted his teeth, enduring the pain with sheer will. "What... did you do to... my grandson?" the old man bellowed loudly.

However, as he struggled to lift his upper body and sit up in bed, he stopped midway, feeling all his strength begin to wane.

Alexander hurriedly stopped the old man, realizing that he was harming himself by doing this. If he truly died, it would be a meaningless death caused by a simple misunderstanding.

"Old man, calm down. I'm a friend. The injuries you're seeing right now were not caused by me but by the beast that was about to devour him. It has already been taken care of, so there's nothing for you to worry about," Alexander explained.

Hearing this, the old man's mind, clouded with rage, began to settle. His upper body slumped back onto the bed, sweat pouring down his face.

His breathing was labored and heavy, carrying hot air, as his eyes grew hazy and misty.

Shifting his head slightly, he looked at the mysterious man and noticed that he showed no signs of ill intent.

"Thank you very much for saving my grandson, and I deeply apologize for misunderstanding your goodwill. If only I could stand, I would kneel before you to express my gratitude," the old man said, his lips trembling with emotion.

Alexander could see the gratitude in the old man's eyes. So, he shook his hand and responded, "There's no need for that, Uncle. You’re an elder, kneeling to a young man wouldn’t be appropriate for your dignity."

The old man offered a faint, broken smile. Shifting his gaze toward his grandson in the mysterious man’s arms, he then glanced back at Alexander.

"Young man... can I ask you a favor?" the old man said, closing his eyes briefly as his breathing grew more rapid.

Alexander did not refuse the old man's request, as he felt indebted to the people of his kingdom. Besides, he could see that the old man was gravely ill and appeared to be in his final moments.

"Sure, Uncle. As long as it's something I can do, I’ll do my best to help," Alexander said sincerely.

The old man smiled weakly, opened his eyes once more, and looked at him. "It's not really a difficult request, young man. From your voice alone, you must be quite young, right?" the old man replied.

Alexander nodded his head. Despite being heavily covered, his voice still revealed his youth.

Moreover, since he had already addressed the old man as 'Uncle,' it was clear that his cover had been compromised.

Seeing him nod, the old man continued, "Can you take care of my grandson?"

Hearing this left Alexander momentarily stunned.

The old man's request was not particularly difficult for Alexander, as back in his world, during his time in the orphanage, he had cared for many younger brothers.

However, this time, his situation was different. Since he was determined to revive the kingdom, the challenges ahead would be immense.

He would inevitably face numerous threats, including the constant danger of assassination.

Seeing the mysterious young man fall silent, the old man continued, "If I’m right, you’re afraid that my grandson will be in danger if he follows you, correct? But let me tell you this—even if you don’t take him with you, he will still face trouble. Taking my grandson with you is both a blessing and a risk. I have no one else I can trust to care for him, and you are my best option. Since you don’t seem like an ordinary person."

Hearing this, Alexander shook his head. "Can you really trust a stranger you just met to take care of your grandson? What if I’m a bad person?" he asked, looking at the old man lying in bed.

The old man responded as he finished speaking, "My eyes never lie to me young man, I can greatly see that you are not a bad person so I can feel at ease." he ended with a smile.

Alexander could only rub his temples at this predicament as he continued to ask,

"Then what exactly is the problem with your grandson? Why do you say that if I don’t take him, he’ll be in trouble, but if I do, it will also bring trouble—yet there’s a benefit in the end? I don’t understand," he admitted, feeling perplexed.

He then looked down at the kid lying in his arms, now breathing normally. The old man did not waste any time and began his explanation.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"Have you heard of the Spirit Race?" the old man asked.

"Spirit... Race?" Alexander muttered under his breath, deep in thought.

"What kind of spirit is he talking about?" Alexander wondered inwardly.

"Is he referring to a ghost? But since when did ghosts become spirits? Those are two different beings. Or is he talking about spirits, those beings with magical powers and supernatural abilities?"

"I'm not familiar about it," Alexander responded, the old man was stunned looking at him dumbfoundedly.

Seeing the old man's dumbfounded expression, Alexander wondered if he had said something wrong.

"Are you serious?!" the old man exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief.

"What kind of cave have you been living in to not know about the Spirit Race? They’re part of every bedtime story and every old tale passed down through generations!"

Beneath his cover, Alexander raised an eyebrow, feeling slightly embarrassed but maintained his composure.

"I've... been busy," he muttered, scratching his chin with an awkward laugh.

The old man shook his head, as if Alexander's ignorance on the subject was a personal affront.

"Even children know about them! The Spirit Race are beings of pure elemental magic, older than any kingdom. They're said to have shaped the world itself. Every family has stories about them, even if no one has seen one in generations. They’re in the legends, yes—but still!"

The old man’s eyes darted toward Alexander, scrutinizing him. "To think you don’t even know the basics… Their power is said to rival the gods themselves—if they exist, that is," he added, both in awe of the legends and bewildered by Alexander's ignorance.

Alexander was speechless. The old man was clearly too amazed or perhaps frustrated by his lack of knowledge on the topic.

Deciding to steer the conversation back to the point, Alexander asked, "So you’re saying that this grandson of yours is a spirit from the legends? But aren’t you human? How did he become a spirit? Are your ancestors from the Spirit Race?"

Bombarded by so many questions, the old man felt his patience wearing thin, his ears nearly ringing.

"Your damn ancestors are the spirits," he cursed inwardly, though he refrained from saying it out loud.

With a sigh, he patiently explained, "No, we are not from the Spirit Race, and our ancestors were all commoners. But my grandson is different he’s a half spirit. That’s what my daughter told me."

Alexander finally pieced it together, narrowing his eyes as realization dawned. "So, your daughter is human, but she gave birth to a spirit. That can only mean..." He trailed off.

The old man then gave a small nod. "Yes, her husband… the father of my grandson… is from the Spirit Race. That’s what she told me," he said with a weary sigh, leaning back slightly as if the weight of the truth was too much to bear.

"She used to wander off to a lake near Grimhowl Forest, a place she loved," the old man began, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "She was always going on about the beauty of the view, the peace of the water, and so on."

He paused, his tone shifting to one of reluctant pride. "Then one day, she came back home and told me she met a man there. A handsome one, she said, who confessed his love to her."

Alexander raised a brow, since this seems to be like a fairytale to him. "And you just believed her?"

The old man shrugged his shoulders. "What was I supposed to do? She said he was so charming and otherworldly. And honestly, my daughter isn’t exactly lacking in the looks department either," he said, his chest puffing out with pride.

"She got her beauty from me, after all. My genes carried hard, overpowering my wife’s genes like a champion," he added proudly, a smug grin creeping across his face.

Alexander blinked beneath the cover, unsure how to respond. "Really? It seems your wife carried the whole thing rather than you," but he only spoke this inwardly, afraid to hurt the old man's ego.

Alexander's lips twitched, torn between disbelief and laughter. "So, let me get this straight—your daughter meets a random, handsome man in the woods, falls in love, and now you've got a half-spirit grandson. And your biggest takeaway from this is… your genes?"

"Yes, that's just about it," the old man responded, nodding his head.

"Then why aren’t Kael’s mother and father here?" Alexander asked.

At the question, the old man’s eyes suddenly filled with sadness, and he let out a heavy sigh.

Seeing this, Alexander immediately realized he must have asked something bad.

"Kael's mother died when she gave birth to my grandson," the old man explained, his voice heavy with sorrow.

"She said this was the path she had chosen, and that her death was unavoidable. As for his father, my daughter told me he left because he was being hunted. If he had stayed, not only would we have been in danger, but the entire kingdom could have been implicated."

Alexander, listening to this, shook his head as he looked down at the child in his arms. He couldn’t help but reflect on how cruel and tragic fate could be.

This kid's mother had died when he was born, and his father was on the run, hunted by enemies.

"So, young man, can you accept this favor of mine? I don’t have much time left," the old man muttered in a low voice, his strength fading as he closed his eyes.

Alexander, who had been in a dilemma moments ago, finally made his decision. If he invested some resources into this child, maybe one day he might gain a strong and loyal general.

"I accept," Alexander replied.

Hearing this, the old man managed a faint smile, his eyes half-closed.

"Before you go, reach into my right pocket and take the item inside," the old man instructed, as his body could no longer move.

Alexander adjusted the kid in his right arm as he stepped closer to the old man. Carefully, he extended his hand into the old man’s pocket to retrieve the item.

The moment his fingers wrapped around a hard, long object, the old man suddenly trembled, his body jolting as if struck by a surge of electricity.

Alexander feeling something is wrong when he caressed the item, he look at the old man, face that was red in shame.

"Don't tell me…" Alexander voiced trailed off, as he backed off in the speed of light.

"F*ck my hand, this-this. This is not real!!" Alexander muttered in despair, he actually touched it, he freaking touched the thing.

The old man in the bed who's face so red like a tomato coughed to ease the awkwardness.

Cough

"Young man, I’m very sorry about that," the old man said, his face now serious.

"I've been bedridden for a year and have lost the strength to move or walk and it also affected my memory. The item is actually in my left pocket."

Alexander’s smile twitched, looking utterly broken. Seeing this, the old man attempted to console him.

"Don’t worry, young man. Ever since my wife passed away 30 years ago, my thing has never been used, so it’s perfectly clean," he added with a reassuring smile.

"What do you mean it’s perfectly clean? Just because it’s never been used doesn’t mean it’s clean!" Alexander thought, cursing the old man countless times in his mind, though a few of those curses were directed at himself.

He had been too careless. But the most unforgettable part was that the fabric at the bottom of the old man’s pocket was completely worn out… meaning he had touched it raw. Raw!!!

Alexander’s expression was filled with sorrow, and he couldn’t help but wish for an Amnesia-Rator—something that could erase this traumatic memory.

But, unfortunately, there were no mad evil scientists in this world to grant him such mercy.

"Are you sure you put it there?" Alexander asked, remaining frozen in place.

The old man's eyes glinted with dissatisfaction, sensing that the young man had grown wary after the unfortunate accident.

"I'm sure," the old man gritted his teeth.

Seeing the look of the old man, Alexander then walked over to the sides and then reached out into his left pocket.

His hand this time did not went too deep but as he touched the item. THE REAL ITEM!

He took it out and look at it in his arms, and when he looked at it the system identifies the items in his hand.