Living Room - Family Meeting
The Draeth family living room was modest but comfortable—worn furniture that had served them well for years, family photos on the walls documenting happier times, and a old television that only received basic channels.
Everyone settled into their usual spots. Thorne took his customary armchair, the one positioned with clear sightlines to both the front door and windows—old habits from years of combat training. Aunt Mira and Uncle Torven shared the couch, sitting close together as if drawing strength from each other's presence.
Lyanna plopped onto the floor cushion, still looking longingly toward the kitchen where those incredible ingredients waited.
Vaelor remained standing, knowing this conversation would go better if he maintained a position of confidence rather than submission.
Thorne leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. When he spoke, his voice was calm but carried unmistakable authority.
"Explain. Everything. And don't leave anything out."
Vaelor had spent his walk home preparing this explanation. He'd anticipated their concern, their disbelief, their natural inclination to think something was wrong or illegal. He'd crafted a story that was half truth, half necessary fabrication—enough honesty to be believable, enough omission to protect certain secrets.
"I need to start with my awakening ceremony," Vaelor began. "What I told you wasn't the complete truth."
Aunt Mira's hand flew to her mouth. Uncle Torven's expression hardened with worry. Thorne's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"When I awakened," Vaelor continued carefully, "I didn't just get one talent. I experienced what the Awakening Association is calling a 'double reawakening'—an extremely rare phenomenon where someone awakens multiple talents simultaneously."
This part was close enough to truth. He had awakened multiple talents, just not in the way normal people understood awakenings.
"Multiple talents?" Uncle Torven leaned forward. "How many?"
"Several," Vaelor said vaguely. "The Association classified most of them as EX-Rank or higher. They made me sign confidentiality agreements—apparently having too many powerful talents revealed publicly can attract dangerous attention from various factions."
This was a convenient fabrication. The "confidentiality agreement" excuse provided plausible reason for why he couldn't discuss specifics while still conveying the magnitude of his abilities.
Thorne's expression shifted from concern to wary hope. "EX-Rank? Multiple EX-Rank talents?"
"Yes," Vaelor confirmed. "Combined with my martial cultivation talent, the synergies have been... exceptional."
"But that doesn't explain how you got nearly a million points in just a few days," Aunt Mira protested, though her tone had softened from accusatory to confused.
"The talents accelerated my advancement dramatically," Vaelor explained. "Within two days of awakening, I'd already progressed enough to qualify for Abyssal Rift diving. I went into a Tier 1 Rift and... did extremely well."
This was the tricky part—explaining his wealth without revealing just how absurdly powerful he'd become.
"How well?" Thorne pressed.
Vaelor met his father's gaze steadily. "Well enough that I'm currently stronger than most Tier 4 warriors."
Silence.
Complete, absolute silence.
Lyanna's mouth fell open. Uncle Torven looked like someone had hit him over the head with a brick. Aunt Mira made a small choking sound.
Thorne stared at his son with an expression mixing disbelief, pride, and something approaching awe.
"Stronger than... Tier 4..." Uncle Torven finally managed. "You're seventeen. You awakened three days ago."
"I know how it sounds," Vaelor said calmly. "But it's the truth. The combination of talents, my martial cultivation method, and what happened in the Rift... I advanced faster than even I expected."
He decided to add another piece of truth to make the story more believable.
"I fought someone in the Rift. Another prodigy. We both pushed each other to our limits, and in the process... I learned a lot. Grew a lot. When the dust settled, I'd gained eleven levels in a single day and accumulated massive amounts of equipment and materials from eliminated spawn."
"Eleven levels..." Aunt Mira whispered. "In one day..."
"I sold everything I didn't need," Vaelor continued. "The total came to approximately 4.2 billion points."
If the previous silence had been profound, this one was absolutely deafening.
Uncle Torven's face went through several colors—pale white, then flushed red, then back to pale again. He looked like he might faint.
Aunt Mira actually did make a small distressed sound before clutching her husband's arm for support.
Lyanna's eyes had become so wide they looked like they might fall out of her head.
Thorne... Thorne stood up slowly, walked to where Vaelor stood, and placed both hands on his son's shoulders. His golden eyes searched Vaelor's face intensely, as if trying to find any trace of deception.
"You're telling the truth, but barely" Thorne said quietly. It wasn't a question—he could read his son well enough to know when he was lying. "By all the gods, you're actually telling the truth."
"I am," Vaelor confirmed.
Thorne pulled his son into a tight embrace—sudden, emotional, and completely uncharacteristic of the normally stoic warrior. When he pulled back, his eyes glistened with moisture he refused to acknowledge.
"My son," he said hoarsely. "You're going to be... you're already..."
He couldn't finish the sentence, too overcome with a father's pride.
Uncle Torven had finally processed enough to speak again. "4.2 billion points. Four billion. That's... that's more than successful Tier 1 and early Tier 2 warriors can accumulate in their entire careers..."
"Which brings me to why I bought those ingredients," Vaelor said, gently steering the conversation toward his actual purpose. "And why I came home with them today specifically."
He took a breath, knowing this next part would be harder to convince them of.
"I've also purchased a mansion in the upper district. Celestial Heights Residence #47. Twelve bedrooms, full amenities, underground garage. I've bought four vehicles—one for each of you. Tomorrow morning, deliveries will arrive with furniture, wardrobes, and enough premium food provisions to stock the mansion's refrigerated storage for months."
Silence returned, but this time with a different quality. Not shock—comprehension. Understanding that something fundamental was about to change.
"No," Aunt Mira said immediately, shaking her head. "No, Vaelor, we can't accept that. That's your money. Your achievement. You should use it for your own advancement, equipment, training—"
"We're not a burden for you to carry," Uncle Torven added firmly, though his voice wavered slightly. "You're young, you have your whole future ahead. Don't waste your resources on us—"
"It's not a burden," Vaelor interrupted, his voice carrying absolute conviction. "And it's not waste. It's investment in what matters most to me."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"Aunt Mira, Uncle Torven—you took me in when I had nowhere else to go. You treated me like your own son, shared everything you had despite your own struggles. You gave me stability, family, love."
His gaze shifted to his cousin. "Lyanna, you're the little sister I never had. You've made this house feel like a home."
Finally, he met his father's eyes. "And Father... you've sacrificed everything. Your prime years, your safety, your chance at advancement—all spent on the frontier protecting the border so people like us could live in relative peace."
Thorne's jaw clenched, emotion flickering across his normally impassive face.
"Now I finally have the ability to give back," Vaelor continued. "To provide the security and comfort you deserve. To take away the worry about money, about danger, about whether we can afford medicine or repairs or basic necessities."
"But—" Aunt Mira started.
"This isn't charity," Vaelor said firmly. "This is family taking care of family. And honestly? Having you safe and comfortable directly benefits me. I can't focus on cultivation and advancement if I'm constantly worried about whether you're okay, whether Father will come back from his next border deployment, whether we can afford Lyanna's academy fees."
He let that sink in before continuing.