POV: Kael Lanpar
Mysteries had always been a constant shadow in my life. In this one as well as the last, truth seemed hidden behind a veil, as if someone insisted on covering my eyes.
I hated it with every fiber of my being. I had witnessed too much, and yet I understood nothing. Absolutely nothing.
"Does it hurt?" my sister asked, holding the redhead's bleeding hand.
I couldn't understand who that girl was or why my sister treated her with such tenderness. The way she held her hand and dabbed the cotton so gently conveyed an affection I couldn't decipher.
I shifted on the grass where I sat and turned my eyes away from them. My gaze fell instead on the old man watching in silence, seated beside them.
The wind stirred his hair, making it dance with grace, while his eyes remained fixed on the redhead's wound, each moment weighed down with greater concern.
After sorting through my thoughts, I realized who the man was. His face had been illustrated in one of the books in the royal library: the leader of the Astrals. Luis Astrales, ranked Broker—one of the most powerful beings in this world.
My gaze lingered on his expression, trying to see past the disguise he wore. His wrinkled features reflected worry, yet the books' descriptions of him did not match what stood before me.
"Every person has a reason to hide something," I reminded myself silently.
I couldn't continue reflecting; a piercing cry from the redhead forced me to cover my ears. Her scream echoed across the field. Birds scattered in flocks, blotting the sky in their rush to flee.
I wanted to feel compassion for her pain, but it was difficult. Her aggressiveness didn't help; she looked more like a wild beast trapped in the body of a little girl.
"Airis, please, stop screaming," the old man said, rubbing his temple. "I still don't understand why you two fought."
I stood and walked toward them, keeping my distance from the girl, who glared at me with hatred.
"Na cura sore na kata su," she suddenly spoke, pointing at me. "To rei sa ba teo."
I froze, trying to grasp her words. I couldn't. But the moment she stuck her tongue out at me, I knew they weren't pleasant.
I understood that many languages existed in this world. Racing, the human tongue, was not the only one. I might have heard some variants in Noblezia, but this language was unlike any of them.
"It was my fault," I said, pressing my hand to my chest. "I made her fall, so I apologize."
"Of course it was your fault," she snapped, fury in her voice.
"So you do know how to speak Racing," I murmured, surprised.
"Of course I do, idiot," she spat with annoyance. "How else do you think I talk to people?"
I swallowed hard, restraining myself from replying. I knew arguing would drag me down to a childish level. I was tempted, but there was no logical reason to indulge, so I chose silence—even if it meant carrying blame that wasn't mine.
Her look of confusion at my silence drew a smirk from me. It reminded me of arguments with my sister in my past life.
The wind brushed my face, and with a sigh, I settled into the silence that had fallen. It felt as though the world itself respected my grief, granting me space to breathe.
"It's good you inherited your mother's intelligence," the old man said, placing a hand on my head. "I'm glad my grandchildren came to visit me. Though I know you didn't come out of love," he added with a touch of drama.
I lingered on his words, recognizing in his face the same coldness that sometimes flickered in my mother's eyes.
"How did I not realize it before?" I whispered to myself.
"Mayrei, take Airis to her room," he ordered. "You stay, Kael. I want to speak with you."
I turned my head and saw my sister nodding, taking the redhead's hand before walking toward the doors leading to the courtyard entrance.
The creak of the wood as it shut echoed in the air. I looked back at the old man, whose face now seemed like a mask, stripped of all emotion.
With a simple movement of his hand, glittering particles appeared in the air. The earth itself responded to his command, and before my eyes a crystalline chair rose, gleaming as though it were forged from eternal glass.
He sat upon it with a restrained sigh, his gaze fixed on me, burdened with a weight too heavy to name.
"You experienced a corrupt awakening," he said, his voice grave.
The mere echo of those words was enough to send a cold sweat running down my back. Images of my hand piercing my father's chest returned violently, shredding my mind like blades.
I bit my lower lip, desperate to tear those memories away, lowering my head into bitter silence.
"Unfortunately, I did," I replied, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't even know what I've gotten myself into."
"Of course you don't," he exclaimed, rising abruptly to his feet. "From that very moment, you condemned yourself."
The word condemnation hammered in my head, hurting more than any physical blow.
The old man walked to a nearby tree, plucked two apples, and tossed one to me. I caught it clumsily, doubts still pressing against my chest, while he bit into his own with unsettling calm.
"I thank the gods you came to me," he said, his mouth still full.
He raised his hand to the sky, and a crystalline projectile spun in his palm, vibrating so fast it sliced the very air.
"There is good news… and news not quite so good," he went on, still chewing.
His hand lowered slowly until it hovered before me. The projectile spun with greater force, beginning to smoke.
The hiss of its energy froze my blood. I threw up my arms in desperation, squeezing my eyes shut. A gust of wind whipped against my face, tangling my hair—but the strike never came.
Cautiously, I opened my eyes. Before me towered a liquid wall, trapping the projectile as though water itself had chosen to obey another will.
"The only problem you face now is that you are still a Latent," the old man said from the other side of the barrier.
The word pierced me like a blade. Latent. In Mayora, no explanation was needed—everyone knew what it meant.
Latents… condemned to hear only faint whispers of magic. Weak echoes of others' emotions, as if sorrow, joy, or rage were distant voices amid a storm.
At best, they could perceive a faint aura, a blurred reflection in murky water. Their grasp of energy was nothing more than accident: lighting a candle, nudging a stone an inch, drawing a single droplet of water from the air.
Shapeless magic. Pure instinct. A trembling flame that never burned bright.
I let myself fall onto the damp grass, my palms sinking into the soil, while the barrier dissolved into droplets that splashed across my face.
I couldn't deny it: I hadn't controlled anything. I wasn't even a mage. The spells I had cast before were most likely nothing more than products of that corrupt awakening.
"Kael, go to your room," he ordered suddenly. "Tomorrow, I want you here early. It's for your own good."
With no will to argue, I turned and walked toward the house. Yet as I moved, I couldn't stop thinking about the tone of his voice—that crack within him, that broken piece he tried to hide. It hadn't escaped me.
Re-entering the mansion, I wandered through endless corridors overflowing with luxuries unthinkable for this era. Each step reminded me of the burden I carried.
A knot tightened in my chest: still being a Latent was very bad news. Perhaps it meant that in the future I might never touch true magic.
I let out a weary sigh of frustration, forcing myself to glance around in search of distraction.
Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, vast windows of strange crystal let the light in, and the white marble floor blended with a stone that shone with a unique radiance.
Nothing seemed truly new… until something caught my attention.
On the wall, a map unfolded like an illusion. Etched into the marble, it was visible only under the sunlight. Whenever my shadow fell across it, it vanished completely.
"Wow… this continent really is enormous," I murmured to myself.
From what I could see, there were five kingdoms in Mayora. Strange as it may sound, it was the first time I had ever laid eyes on a map of this continent since my reincarnation.
The map was divided into five great dominions that controlled most of the land, with only a few forested regions left untouched.
In the north stretched Auroria, the human kingdom, sole ruler of those frozen lands. Further south lay Silvarya, the elven kingdom, which shared its borders with the dwarves of Forjador, separated by a vast mountain range.
At the farthest edge of the map rested Barkay, a kingdom formed by a sprawling network of small islands, all bound together by a mighty seaport.
"Kal, what did Grandpa tell you?" my sister's voice interrupted suddenly.
"He tried to tell me I have a serious problem," I replied, turning toward her. "But… what happened to you?"
Up close, I noticed she was injured. Nothing life-threatening, but enough to alarm me. A thin line of blood marked her face.
I couldn't understand how she had ended up like that. Just moments ago she had been with us, completely unharmed.
"It's nothing, Kal. Don't worry. Just training," she answered, coughing softly.
"Weren't you already discharged from Alkaster? Why are you still training?" I asked, my concern sharp. "You need to rest!"
"Yes, I am on leave, but…"
Before she could finish her sentence, I saw her begin to faint. She managed to lean on me just in time.
"Come on, I'll take you to your room. You seriously need to rest," I told her as I held her up.
"I still don't understand how you can be so mature at only four years old. It's strange, even for a Lanpar," she said with a weak smile. "Thank you for helping me, little brother."
Looking into her eyes, I saw myself reflected in her. That desperation to become stronger, to sacrifice without thinking of yourself, believing that if you worked hard enough, you could protect everyone.
I once thought the same way… and I had to learn the hard way. I watched my comrades fall, saw those who trusted me vanish, while I kept believing that if I just pushed myself further, everything would be solved.
But life doesn't work like that. It isn't all training, pain, and sacrifice. If you have light in your life, cherish it. It is not eternal.
After walking for some time, I finally helped her lie down in her room. I closed the door softly so as not to wake her and headed toward my own.
I walked in silence through the hallway, gazing out the window at the radiant moonlight that had begun to take hold of the sky.
"I see… Then the information is one hundred percent verified," my grandfather's voice cut through the silence, forcing me to hide instinctively.
"If that's true, the kingdom is in worse shape than we imagined," he added.
"Completely verified, Lord Luis. The problem is that nothing can be done, at least not in such delicate times as these," replied an unfamiliar voice.
At the far end of the hallway, I saw my grandfather speaking with a hooded figure, shorter than him. From her tone and the moonlight falling over her silhouette, I knew it was a woman.
Before I could hear more, the two of them began walking in my direction. Astral magic reacted to the moment, warping the marble wall and opening a small gap for me to slip into.
I hurried inside, still catching fragments of their conversation. There was no joy in their words—only pure worry. Every syllable carried a heavy weight of dread.
"The Midorians were responsible for funding the rebels. We caught several of their agents transferring money," the woman said firmly.
"Does Xavier know about this already?" my grandfather asked. "We won't be able to make a move, even with proof. The clans will split into factions, and then… the war will escalate."
Midorians… what kind of clan were they? I had almost no information about them. Even the books and reports I had studied said little on the matter.
"If Xavier knows, it's because Alkaster informed him. He sent me to deliver this message… I suppose that makes me his messenger as well," the woman added, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
"Calm yourself, Lola. In this game, each of us has an important role to play," my grandfather replied with steady composure.
When I heard that name, a light flickered in my mind: there was another Broker here. But I couldn't understand why. He was supposed to be representing our kingdom in other territories.
"Yes, yes, whatever," Lola replied, a hint of impatience in her tone. "I'm leaving right now. I'll take advantage of the night's darkness to travel to Luzarion. See you, Luis."
"Take care, Lola," my grandfather said, letting out a weary sigh as she departed.
Things were escalating to another level. Now I understood why the Strikers had appeared… and why my father mentioned he would summon all the troops scattered beyond the human kingdom.
And now that I think about it… there are only two weeks left until my fifth birthday. Five years already in this world. Time has passed so quickly.
I should be glad about that, but to be honest, not even here do I feel like celebrating my birthday.
I slowly stepped out of my hiding place, watching as the wall restored itself to its original state. I glanced both ways: the hallway was empty, haunted only by the echo of silence.
For some reason, I could still feel their emotions lingering in the air, as if the past itself had just exhaled before me.
Every time I thought I understood this magic, I stumbled against the same mountain: reality. I am no one in this world and, strange as it sounds, that's fine by me.