He touched a slightly worn bookshelf. He whispered to the shelf, "Reversion."
Instantly, Calian felt a subtle flow of energy from himself to the shelf. Under his touch, the worn wood suddenly appeared new again, as if the wood's aging process had been reversed.
Calian's eyes widened. "It worked. And it feels... vastly different from mana."
He hurriedly closed and locked the book away. The fear he had felt was now replaced by hidden excitement and cold ambition. The chasm of emptiness in his heart was still there, but now the chasm held a secret weapon.
Time was up. The hourglass he had placed on Sebastian's table showed the last grains falling.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A soft knock from the secret door in the bookshelf. It was Sebastian.
Calian took a deep breath. He dusted off his clothes. He put his flat face-mask back on. He was Calian Larvin, the disgrace.
"I'm ready, Sebastian," Calian said. His tone was now calm, without agitation. "Take me to Father's study."
Sebastian watched Calian emerge from the library. His face was still pale, but his eyes... those purple eyes now emitted a strange glow, as if a great secret was hidden within them.
"Young Master..." Sebastian could only say, his voice hesitant.
"Don't worry, Sebastian," Calian smiled thinly. "I will give my father what he wants. Proof that I am weak. And then... I will disappear into the shadows where I was always meant to be."
They walked towards Duke Larvin's study. Calian's heart pounded, thinking of the confrontation that awaited him.
Father. You want power above all else? You want me to be the pride of Larvin?
Calian clenched his right hand, comforted by the silence stored beneath his palm. Let me give you a perfect failure. Let you ignore me. Because only when you ignore me can I become immortal and master time. And when the time comes, I will show you, Duke Maxwell Larvin, that there is a power far superior to mana and sword.
They stopped in front of the large study door.
"My Lord, Young Master Calian has arrived," Sebastian reported, his voice steady.
A heavy voice from inside, impatient and dangerous, was heard. "Send him in!"
Calian took a final breath. He was no longer a lonely twelve-year-old boy. He was someone who held the key to controlling time in the world.
He braced himself. He pushed open his father's study door.
The door to Duke Maxwell Larvin's study loomed over Calian. Made of black ebony carved with ancient battle reliefs, the door looked like a gate to hell for anyone bringing bad news. And Calian didn't just bring bad news; he was the bad news itself.
Sebastian knocked twice. His voice was firm, but Calian could catch a hint of hesitation there.
"Enter," the heavy voice from inside commanded. The voice wasn't loud, but its vibration spread through the wooden floor, instantly making Calian's stomach churn.
Sebastian slowly opened the door, then bowed, ushering Calian in. "I will wait outside, Young Master," the butler whispered, giving a last, unreadable look before closing the door again, leaving Calian alone in the lion's den.
The study was vast and cold. The walls were lined with the preserved heads of hunted animals—a northern bear, a Siberian tiger, even the head of a small Wyvern. A blood-red carpet lay on the floor. At the end of the room, behind an enormous mahogany desk, sat Duke Maxwell Larvin.
The man was not looking at Calian. He was reading a piece of parchment—a report from the temple sent via message teleportation magic, surely. His stern face, with a hard jawline and dark purple hair beginning to gray at the temples, looked like a stone statue holding back the wrath of a volcano.
However, what made Calian pause for a moment was not his father, but another figure sitting on a velvet sofa in the corner of the room.
His mother. Duchess Elara Larvin.
The woman sat gracefully, wearing a luxurious sea-blue gown. She held a thin porcelain teacup. Her face was beautiful, her skin perfectly maintained, but her expression was vacant. When Calian entered, his mother slowly turned her head.
Calian held his breath, hoping for just a little warmth. Just a hint that his mother would defend him. That she would say, "It's okay, son. You are still our child."
But that hope shattered into pieces within seconds.
Duchess Elara looked at him, and her eyes emitted neither anger nor hatred. They emitted something far more painful: pity.
It was the same look one gives a limping cat on the side of the road. A condescending pitying gaze. A look that said, "Ah, how unfortunate is your fate. You were born broken."
His mother said nothing. She just let out a long, very quiet sigh, then returned to sipping her tea, as if Calian's existence was a bitter reality she had to swallow along with the sweet tea.
"Advance," Duke Maxwell commanded, without lifting his face from the report.
Calian stepped forward. His legs felt heavy, but his mind was clear. He remembered the book in the library earlier. Time Loop. Immortality. Time Manipulation. He held that secret tightly in his heart as a shield.
Calian stopped exactly three steps in front of his father's desk. He lowered his head, playing the role of the broken child. "I present myself, Father."
Duke Maxwell placed the paper on the desk. His movement was slow, but the sound of the paper hitting the wood sounded like an explosion in the silent room.
"Calian," his father called. His voice was flat, emotionless, which made it far more terrifying. "Do you know the contents of this report sent by the Chief Priest of the Grand Temple?"
"I... I can guess, Father," Calian replied softly.
"Guess?" Duke Maxwell snorted harshly. He slowly stood up. His tall, imposing body loomed, blocking the light from the window behind him, making his shadow swallow Calian's small frame. "This report says that my son, a Larvin, killed the Grand Resonance Crystal. This report says you have no Mana Core. You have no Aura Heart. You are... empty!"