The cavern was quiet again.
Too quiet, in Alaric's opinion.
After a week of spilling warmth into moss and patching up tiny cuts, the ruin practically hummed with life now. The fungi glowed softer, the moss pulsed with green, the air even smelled fresher. Which meant Ashen was definitely plotting something.
And sure enough, the pale knight appeared in front of him one morning holding… fruit.
A small, plump berry, its skin glossy and red in the faint light.
Alaric perked up immediately, drool already forming.
"…Eh!"
Finally. Snack time. Took you long enough.
He reached out with both stubby hands, eyes sparkling.
But Ashen stopped him with a pale palm pressed firmly against his chest.
Alaric blinked, confused.
"…Gh?"
Ashen didn't answer. He simply placed the berry on the moss between them, then laid his hand over another one he'd set aside.
A ripple of darkness spread.
The fruit shriveled in seconds, its skin sagging, its flesh blackening until nothing but a wrinkled husk remained.
Alaric's jaw dropped.
"…!"
Wait. WAIT. You're telling me the first thing you want me to do with food in this world is ROT it?! That's a crime against humanity. Do you know how hard I worked for snacks in my last life?!
Ashen gestured calmly.
Your turn.
Alaric groaned so loudly it echoed against the cavern walls.
"…Ghhhhh."
This is abuse. Actual abuse. But fine. Watch the magic trick, you lunatic.
He slapped his tiny palm onto the berry.
Cold stirred inside him, not like the warm rhythm of life but sharp, eager, greedy. It surged into the fruit almost without effort.
The berry twitched, darkened, and withered into dust in his hand.
Alaric yanked his palm back with a squeaky gasp.
"…Hhh."
Whoa… okay, that was way easier than the plant-healing nonsense. Not sure if I should be proud or concerned.
Decay became his next lesson.
Fruit after fruit, leaf after leaf, all crumbling at his touch until Alaric was pouting at the growing pile of shriveled remains.
"…Eh."
Do you have any idea how many smoothies we could've made with this? Total waste. Worst cooking class ever.
Ashen ignored him, as always.
But the next test made him pause.
A small, lifeless bird lay on the moss, its feathers dull, its body limp.
Alaric's golden eyes widened.
"…Eh?"
Ashen gave the faintest nod.
Alaric swallowed nervously.
Wait, wait, wait… you don't mean—
He placed his palm on the bird.
Cold mana surged eagerly, wrapping around bone and feather alike.
The bird twitched.
Then twitched again.
And rose.
Its eyes glowed faintly with dim light, wings fluttering awkwardly before it stumbled to its feet.
Alaric's jaw fell open.
"…!"
Holy crap. Did I just make a pet?
The bird hopped unsteadily, turning in a slow circle before collapsing against his side.
Alaric grinned so wide his cheeks hurt.
"Hehh!"
This is the best day of my second life.
He patted its skull proudly, then announced with full confidence:
"You're… Boney."
The name came out as a garbled baby noise, but the smugness in his eyes said it all.
Ashen's gaze lingered on him a second longer, silver eyes cool as ice.
Disapproval radiated silently.
Alaric just smirked harder.
Don't look at me like that. You had your chance to name him. Too late now.
But of course, Boney wasn't alone for long.
Next came a squirrel skeleton. Then a decayed lizard. Even a rat, which Alaric nearly threw across the cavern before Ashen silently pressed his hand back down and made him finish the spell.
Each one twitched, rose, and then—strangely—lingered.
When Ashen gestured, they slunk into the shadows. And instead of vanishing, they stayed.
Alaric blinked when he noticed his shadow ripple faintly, shapes wriggling beneath its surface.
"…!"
They're… waiting there? Like pocket pets? That's insane. This is the coolest magic ever.
He jabbed a chubby finger proudly toward the ground.
"That one's Scratchy. That one's Ugly. And that one—uhhh—you're Bitey."
Ashen's brow twitched. Just barely.
Alaric cackled in his head.
What? Don't judge my naming sense. I'm literally one year old. You're lucky I didn't call one of them Mr. Poopy.
By the time he collapsed onto the moss that evening, the cavern felt different again.
The glow of life still pulsed faintly, but now shadows stretched longer, deeper, trembling with the presence of his new companions.
He lay back with a satisfied smirk, eyes heavy, chest buzzing with strange energy.
"…Hehh."
Life magic makes me a healer. Death magic makes me a summoner. Best of both worlds. OP baby, coming through.
Ashen sat sentinel as always, silver eyes reflecting both glow and shadow.
For the first time, the ruin didn't just hum with life.
It whispered of balance.
The next morning, Alaric stirred awake to find Ashen waiting beside the altar.
That wasn't unusual. What was unusual was the faint shimmer spreading across the stone behind him. The mural that had been cracked and faded before now pulsed faintly, as if the ruin itself had noticed their training.
Alaric squinted, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists.
"…Eh?"
Uh… did the wallpaper just turn itself on?
Ashen glanced toward the glowing lines, then looked back at Alaric. No words, no gesture, but his posture was tauter than usual.
Alaric crawled closer until the mural came into focus. Shapes—figures—etched into stone. A circle of people around a tree. Some reaching upward, bathed in light. Others kneeling downward, shadows curling at their feet.
Life and death, side by side.
Alaric blinked at it, then grinned faintly.
"…Hehh."
Oh, wow. Family portraits. That one's Uncle Life, and that creepy guy in the back? Totally Cousin Death.
Ashen's gaze slid to him, unreadable, but for a fleeting moment the knight's lips pressed tighter. Not quite disapproval. Something else.
Alaric stuck out his tongue anyway.
Training didn't stop.
If anything, it intensified.
Ashen had him decay scraps of wood until they crumbled into powder. Then fruits, lined up neatly in a row. Then small animals, their remains twitching until they rose to join the growing shadow beneath Alaric's feet.
The boy whined the whole time.
"…Ghh."
Do you have any idea how much food we're wasting? My past life self is crying right now. Instant noodles never betrayed me like this.
But every time he thought about slacking off, the murals caught his eye. The faint pulse of their lines matched the hum in his chest, like they were watching, waiting.
And so he pressed his palm down again.
Decay. Shadow. Obedience.
One by one, the creatures sank into his darkness, waiting like loyal pets.
That night, after hours of practice, Alaric slumped onto his moss bed, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
His golden eyes drifted toward the mural again. The light along its cracks glowed faintly, as though acknowledging him.
"…Hehh."
Yeah, yeah. I get it. Life and death, balance, destiny, whatever. I'm a baby. Cut me some slack.
The shadows at the edge of his bed rippled. Scratchy's claws scraped faintly against the floor before vanishing again.
He smirked.
Still… having backup like that? Pretty cool.
Ashen sat nearby, sword across his lap, gaze steady as ever.
But when Alaric's eyes closed at last, drifting into sleep, the faintest shift of expression touched the knight's face.
Not a smile. Not quite.
But something softer than silence.
The ruin seemed to sigh with him, glowing faintly in life and trembling faintly in death, balance held between the two.
And in the dark, the murals whispered.