Neo's POV
Neo's eyes cracked open. The world tilted slightly, his skull pounding like he'd been drinking the night before. He groaned, rolling over on the mattress.
(Ugh. Hungover without alcohol… that's a new achievement.) Celeste's voice echoed in his head.
"Shut it."
The faint scrape of cloth against wood caught his ear.
A girl—barely older than him in appearance, maybe twelve at most—was bent over, carefully gathering the scattered clothes and books he'd left on the floor. She froze the instant she realized he was awake, nearly dropping the folded shirt in her trembling hands.
"M-Master Neo! Forgive me—I didn't mean to disturb you! Please don't—don't tell Lady Annovelle, I—I'll leave immediately!"
Neo sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. The girl's voice cracked with fear. He blinked at her, then sighed.
"…Relax. You didn't wake me. I was already half-awake anyway."
The maid blinked at him, her eyes wide, before bowing so deeply her head nearly touched the floor. She scurried out as he dragged himself into the shower.
Minutes later, he stepped out, toweling his hair and pulling on a simple orange shirt and black pants with a simple black jacket. Nothing regal, nothing noble—he wasn't a fan of theatrics anyway. Just simple and comfortable. The maid was still hovering outside, head bowed respectfully.
"Where's my mother and Adrian?" he asked flatly, adjusting his collar.
"The t-third Elder and Y-young Master Adrian are… in the dining hall, young master. Breakfast has already been served."
"Got it. Thanks." He walked off without noticing the way her eyes flicked nervously to the faint crimson sparks crackling through his hair.
Celeste materialized at his side, yawning, oversized shirt hanging off one shoulder, controller still in hand.
(Pfft. Your hair's a disaster. You look like you went through a twister.)
"…Shut up. You're the one who kept me up gaming all night."
(Excuses, excuses. Don't blame me for your bedhead.) she said sheepishly as she materialized beside him, still in a simple white shirt and shorts.
Neo only rolled his eyes. His gaze sharpened when a System notification scrolled into his vision.
[Fate Angel soul fragment successfully assimilated…]
[Soul +25]
[Sword Angel soul fragment successfully assimilated…]
[Soul +20]
[Soul 40 → 85]
[Greater Lightning Manipulation successfully learned]
His steps slowed.
'So it finally finished. Wonder what took it so long.'
(Stupid, the amount of Soul essence you got from those two is even more than your original soul essence. You're lucky your original soul wasn't overwritten by the influx from the essence of two high level angels.)
"Hmm at least it worked in the end. My Soul essence doubled so easily."
A small grin spread across his face. For a second he considered using souls strike to keep severing soul fragments to increase his Soul stat.
"But...it wouldn't work. Soul Strike is meant to be a lethal skill. Regular humans might not survive it. I should only reserve it for those I really want to kill."
For a second, an image of Lars' laughing figure appeared in his mind.
'Soon. I need to focus on the skills I can use now.'
He flexed his fingers, crimson arcs of lightning snapping between them, strands of warped Chaos essence coiling like snakes around the sparks.
"...It's compatible with both mana and Chaos energy. Interesting."
Curiosity prickled. He narrowed his gaze, activating [Hacker's Eye]. Glyphs, structures, and subroutines of the skill unfolded before him like threads of code.
"Oh," Neo breathed, lips curling into a smile as he tinkered with the workings of the skill. "Now this… I can work with."
By the time he entered the lavish dining room, his expression had returned to calm. His gaze, however, sharpened immediately.
Adrian sat lazily near the table's center, smirking faintly but without his usual teasing spark. Annovelle sat beside him, speaking quietly. And at the head of the table—
Neo froze.
A man he had never seen in the flesh before, yet instantly recognized from the many pictures in the mansion. Crimson-gold hair. Stern posture. Regal red-and-gold military suit, the Castreed crest stitched across his breast. His every motion screamed authority. But it was the resemblance that struck Neo hardest—Adrian's jawline, his own crimson eyes reflected in that man's features.
His father.
Dean Castreed.
Their eyes locked.
The man stiffened, fork pausing mid-air. Neo's breath grew heavy, his heart hammering—but not with awe. With rage.
So you finally show yourself.
His lips curled. His voice came out like acid.
"…I was wondering when you were gonna show up."
Before the table could react, lightning burst from his legs. He vanished from the doorway—
—and reappeared in front of Dean, crimson lightning crackling over his right hand, warped with strands of Chaos.
The table jolted in shock, plates exploding outward from Neo.
Adrian did not move. His smirk was absent today, replaced by a cold, indifferent face. He only leaned back, his gaze shadowed.
Dean raised his palm in a slow, almost casual way. Neo's strike landed.
BZZZT!
The impact reverberated through the room. For a split second, Dean Castreed—Savant rank, war veteran, hero of countless battles—was pushed back. His palm shuddered slightly, moving back a fraction of a centimeter.
Dean's eyes widened in disbelief. A six-year-old… at Novice rank… pushed me?
But what cut him deeper was the look in Neo's eyes.
Pure, unfiltered rage.
"Neo!"
Annovelle's voice broke through, sharp with panic. She rose halfway from her chair, her mask of indifference gone. Her eyes were filled with nothing but worry.
"Neo, stop! This is your father!"
"I know."
His teeth ground together. His crimson gaze didn't waver.
"I know exactly who he is."
—————
Dean's POV
Dean Castreed had faced demons, assassins, rival clans. Nothing unnerved him. Yet when his youngest son stepped into the hall, lightning lashing from his hair and eyes—his chest tightened.
He looks… like me. Even more than Adrian.
But then that boy's gaze burned with hatred.
Dean opened his mouth, but no words left. He froze as the boy blurred forward in lightning speed no Novice should possess. His palm instinctively rose—and for the first time in years, he felt resistance.
A single millimeter.
It was nothing in real terms. But the fact remained—Dean Castreed, Savant rank, had been forced back by a boy who had awakened only yesterday.
Shock gave way to sorrow.
'I wasn't there... wasn't part of his life. Six years… not once. Not for his birth. Not for his first steps. Not for a single damn day. And now… this is what he sees me as. Not a father. Just a target.'
The red lightning in Neo's eyes seared into him. Not just power—resentment.
Dean's lips parted hesitantly. "…Son—"
"Neo!" Annovelle's voice cut in, sharp and trembling.
Dean turned, heart clenching at the panic in her tone. The woman who never flinched before warlords was terrified… for their son.
"Please...stop. This is your father," she whispered, voice trembling.
Neo didn't even look at her. His teeth ground audibly.
"I know who he is."
The words felt like knives.
—————
Adrian's POV
Adrian never stopped eating. His fork moved lazily, though his smirk had faded. He watched the scene with eyes narrowed, shoulders tense.
His little brother was finally face-to-face with the man who had seemingly abandoned him. He had expected rage—but not lightning. Not this much power.
Even though he knew their father's justification, even though he knew that there was no way their father could have been there...he stayed silent. Even though it pained him to see Neo like this.
He wanted to intervene. To break the tension. To shield Neo from this confrontation.
But he didn't.
Because deep down, he knew Neo had every right to unleash it.
Adrian clicked his tongue, stabbing a piece of meat with unusual force. Damn it, Dad. Six years late, what'd you expect ?