POV: Kael Lanpar
I wished I could have spent more time with my family—without the constant weight of the problems I carried.
I was sitting next to my sister on a tree branch, listening to my parents argue once again about how to help me with my magic.
"I still don't understand," my father exclaimed. "Kael won't be able to use magic."
Beneath us, I watched him rest his back against the trunk of the tree where we sat. Then he looked up and smiled when he saw us.
"It's complicated to describe what's happening with Kael," my grandfather said, stepping closer to him. "Both his core and his mana are functioning, but…"
"He can't shape the mana at will," my mother interrupted, finishing the sentence.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I heard that harsh truth. It was true—I couldn't mold mana the way I wanted to, and that stripped me of a large part of my magical arsenal.
It was cruel to admit, but right now, I was painfully weak compared to others my age who had already gone through their awakening.
I placed my hands on the rough branch and let my body drop from the tree, landing beside my father. I bent my knees to soften the fall.
"There's still something I don't understand," my father said, turning his gaze toward me. "The fact that Kael can't mold mana doesn't explain how he's still able to cast spells."
I stared at him for a while, his eyes searching mine for an answer.
The world around us fell silent—so silent that the only sound was the fluttering of birds slicing through the cold air.
Leaves were beginning to fall from the trees, which had already lost the color of life that once defined them. Winter was approaching, and as time went on, my options were slowly running out.
The soft groan of my grandfather broke the calm, drawing everyone's attention.
"One could say the act of spell conjuration comes from a frenzied state," he murmured, still deep in thought.
I watched him pace from side to side, trying to explain his theory—the only one he had.
"I'd assume that, to some extent, the corrupted awakening takes over his body," he continued, pointing at me. "But unlike other bearers, you seem to have a small degree of control—however limited—over your actions."
Before we could continue the discussion, Alice's crying interrupted the conversation.
The soft thud of my sister jumping down from the branch reached my ears. She walked over to my mother, trying to help her calm the baby.
"We'll have to talk about this another day," my mother said gently, rocking Alice in her arms.
I approached my father as they went inside the house and dropped down beside him. The cool grass welcomed me softly.
He followed my lead, sliding down the tree's bark until he sat next to me.
"How's your training going?" he asked without looking at me. "I heard you've improved with the sword."
"It's been going well," I replied, adjusting my posture. "Grandfather says I've already reached a level far above average."
My father's voice sounded more tired each day, as if the passing time itself drained the strength from his soul. He no longer carried the energy of a king, nor the radiant presence that once inspired respect.
I knew that both he and my grandfather were hiding something far greater than the war against the revolutionaries. That dim, weary expression they shared confirmed my suspicions.
Trying to shake off my thoughts, I stood abruptly, facing my father.
"So… do you want to see how much I've improved?" I said with a teasing smile. "A little spar wouldn't hurt, right?"
I saw his lips curl into a knowing grin as he accepted the challenge. Then he raised a hand, asking for my help to stand.
I gripped his fingers with both hands, using all my strength to pull him to his feet. Even as a child in this world, I possessed a will that perhaps no one else had.
Maybe I no longer had the strength I once did, nor the divine power that once flowed through my veins… But if there was one thing left within me besides my consciousness, it was the unyielding will to keep fighting—this time, for a new purpose.
The crack of my father's neck, followed by a satisfied smile, told me he was ready.
"Grandfather, will you be the judge?" I asked, watching the change in his expression.
"Yes, of course I can," he replied, his tone brighter. "Three-point duel. Clean strikes, nothing to the face."
I caught the scabbard my grandfather tossed through the air and drew the sword, mesmerized by the gleam of the metal. My reflection showed a forced smile—a weak attempt to hide my doubts.
I swung the blade from side to side, slicing through the air to get used to its weight, slightly heavier than I'd expected.
Placing the blade before my face, I dug my feet into the ground and assumed a firm stance.
"The fight begins when the blade touches the ground," my grandfather announced, releasing his hold.
Our eyes met. We waited for the start with that composed calm only veterans could sustain.
When the blade finally struck earth, we lunged at one another. The swords collided, and the metallic clang echoed in my ears, dredging up memories I would have preferred to bury.
(Past memory)
That was the day I lost my best friend's loyalty. I cared for him so much… that I couldn't bring myself to hurt him.
Among the sparks of our clashing steel, I saw his disappointed face looking at me with sorrow. Guilt shimmered in his eyes—an emotion I couldn't understand back then.
I put more power behind a blow and forced his defense aside. Using the momentum, I kicked him in the stomach and made him stumble back.
"You still have time to repent!" I shouted, rain cutting across my face. "Don't do this to me, Marcois."
No answer came. He charged at me again with a fury so intense the sky itself answered with a crack of lightning.
The ground split beneath the force of the electricity, forcing us both to retreat.
My breathing was heavy. I knew I could kill him with a single stroke… but I couldn't do it.
At the sound of mud squelching under his feet, I raised my sword and feinted—an opening he failed to block. In that instant I had a clear path to cut his throat… and I did not.
Unlike me, he did not hesitate. His strike was true. The power the goddess of fate had granted me shattered into a thousand pieces.
I fell to my knees. Mud soaked my clothes. I brought a hand to my face, touched my eye… and realized I was bleeding.
"Just let me go," I heard him whisper, his voice broken. "I don't want to… I can't kill you."
Resigned, I let him go. I felt my body collapse as my power ruptured and fell into the mud, utterly covered.
Unconsciousness reached for me, but even then I dug my nails into the earth and tried to crawl after him. I watched him walk away—further and further—until he finally disappeared.
(End memory)
I squeezed my eyes shut, still feeling the sword's weight. My father shoved me backward and I barely resisted, stunned by the mental blow of the memory.
With no time to recover, I withdrew the blade in a swift motion and crouched, dodging a cut that skimmed past me.
I delivered a horizontal slash aimed for his heel, testing the mana cloak that protected his body, stopping at the last moment.
"Well, son… that was surprising," he said, lowering his sword and stepping closer. "A clean, well-calculated move."
"You really took me off guard," he added with a smile.
I let my weapon fall as well, listening to the dull thud as it hit the ground. My father tousled my hair with a tenderness that needed no words.
Tears slid down his cheeks—tears I could not ignore—speaking of pride, fear, and everything he would never dare say aloud.
I wanted to ask why he was crying, but in the end I couldn't. I watched him kneel to my level, as he used to do, and through sobs he whispered,
"You don't know how glad I am to see you grow… I love you, son."
The warmth of his arms around me comforted me. I let myself be carried by the moment and hugged him, closing my eyes for a few seconds.
When I opened them again, I pulled away slowly and returned a smile that he answered with renewed joy.
"I'll walk around the grounds for a while," I said in a childish voice. "Do you want me to bring you anything from the center?"
"No, thank you, son. Go, enjoy the day," he replied, moving closer to my grandfather. "I'll stay here a bit longer. Go have fun, but don't come back late."
I nodded and turned, walking toward the house's front door. From a distance I heard the soft murmur of their conversation.
"One day, even if fate refuses, Kael will be a great king," my father's distant voice said.
I smiled at his words as I closed the door behind me. I walked along hallways bathed in sunlight.
The glow that filtered through the windows was more than mere light: its warmth touched my skin, filling me with the energy I needed.
Marcois, my friend, I thought. I know I didn't always make the best decisions in the past, but I promise I'll try to do right now—the way you always wanted me to.
A smile curved my lips as the sound of my shoes echoed on the floor. I turned down a corridor and kept running.
Near the exit I stopped suddenly. The door opened and, before I could react, Airis came in.
We both ended up on the ground: I had tripped over my own feet, which failed to coordinate in time.
"What's wrong with you?!" she shouted in my ear. "You never watch where you're going!"
Still sore from the fall, I straightened up leaning on the door.
"Sorry," I said, offering my hand. "I guess I didn't react in time."
Airis stared at me with an annoyed face for a few seconds, then at last accepted my help.
I was about to walk away after helping her up, but I felt her hand grab my shirt, stopping me.
I turned and met her gray eyes. When she noticed I was looking, she looked away, let go of the fabric and rubbed her face in embarrassment.
"C–could you… want to come for a walk with me?" she stammered, trying to sound casual.
Seeing her play with her hair made me laugh. It was the first time she'd shown a side other than the always-angry girl.
I stepped back a few paces until I stood at the exit. The clear sky stretched above me, crossed by flocks of birds migrating to other parts of the continent.
"What are you waiting for?" I said with my back to her. "Where do you want to go?"
She didn't answer, but when I heard her footsteps behind me I knew I should follow. I watched her walk calmly, setting the pace with each step.
We walked for quite a while through the clan grounds, surrounded by its members. Everyone looked cheerful, their conversations full of prosperity and hope.
There was no trace in their words of fear for the war ravaging the human kingdom. It was as if the Astrals didn't worry about anything happening beyond their borders.
Crossing the bridge to the other part of the grounds, I paused to look at the river flowing below. I leaned on the glass railing and watched fish swim in the water.
"Why did you agree to come with me?" Airis asked. "We've never gotten along… and yet, you came."
She rested her head on her folded arms over the railing. Her face held sadness.
"I don't know why you hate me," I answered. "Maybe you have your reasons… but I don't hate you."
I didn't get to say more. A ball of water hit me square in the chest, soaking me completely.
The cold wind lashed my body and I hugged myself, trying to get warm.
When I saw Airis's face, I noticed her laughing for the first time. Her smile had a childlike innocence that, for a moment, made me forget I was freezing.
Something in me shifted to that more childish side—my astral magic reacted by pure will. Several spheres of water rose from the river, hovering in the air before being fired toward Airis.
Unable to react, she was struck head-on by the spell, soaked completely and feeling at once the same cold that seeped into my bones.
When she saw me laughing, she couldn't bear the defeat and lunged toward me—only to end up on the ground after a reflexive move I hadn't even planned.
Before her face hit the wooden bridge, I caught her by the collar of her coat and helped her stand.
"I swear I didn't mean to drench you," I said between laughs. "I still can't control the spells properly."
"That wasn't funny," she muttered with slight irritation.
Creating a small flame in my hand, I walked closer, sharing a bit of warmth that the sun, now hidden behind the clouds, no longer gave us.
Together we walked back toward the house in uneasy silence, until I decided to break it. There was a question that had lingered in my mind for a long time—one I could perhaps finally ask.
I stopped and looked straight into her eyes, gathering the courage to speak.
"Why do you live in the Astral grounds?"
I feared my question might upset her, but to my surprise she lowered her head before replying softly,
"I have no family. Yours is the closest thing I have."
I wanted to comfort her, but froze when she added,
"It's ironic that I live with the ones responsible for my race's extinction… but only your blood is to blame."
The weight of her words struck me hard, bringing back the memories of all those who had once tried to harm me. I understood then whom she meant.
"It was the Lanpars…" I whispered before I could stop myself.
Seeing tears start to gather in Airis's eyes pushed me to move closer and hold her. I walked slowly until my arms wrapped around her.
I felt her head rest on my shoulder, dampening my shirt with her tears. As I held her, my mind kept asking what my clan had done to erase an entire race.
I began to question who the true villains were in this war. Though the revolutionaries' methods were unforgivable, I couldn't ignore the cause that drove them—to overthrow the reign of the Lanpars.
I swallowed hard as I remembered Alfin's words, which I hadn't taken seriously back then:
"Our bloodline is one among many demons, born from promises and blood."
Gently stroking Airis's hair, I couldn't escape the feeling of my past wrapping around me once more, reminding me of what I had always feared.
What hurts the most… is realizing that the people who always stood beside you were, in truth, the real enemies.