FAMILY

IT WAS A STRANGE FEELING—I was more nervous now, seeing my family again, than when I had first been appointed a king amidst the most powerful people in the world.

“Whew. Let’s do this, Sylvie.”

“Kyu,” she responded, my excitement spreading to her.

The dull clang of metal on metal rang surprisingly loudly.

I could hear faint pitter-patter sounds followed by a childish voice.

“Coming!” A maid opened the door, with a little girl standing next to her. Immediately upon seeing me, the child hid behind the maid.

The maid looked at me curiously, evidently surprised to see an eight-year-old knocking at the door of a noble’s estate.

I cleared my throat. “Hello. My name is Arthur Leywin. I believe my family is currently residing in this manor. May I speak to them?” I gave a slight bow, Sylvie rocking on my head.

Before the confused maid could even respond, I heard an all-too-familiar voice in the background.

“Eleanor Leywin! There you are! You have got to stop running to the front door every time someone…” Upon seeing me, my mother stopped in mid-sentence and dropped a small bowl of what looked like food for… my sister?

I looked down at the girl whose dazzling brown eyes gazed at me with innocent curiosity. Her shimmering ash brown hair was tied into pigtails on each side of her head, just above her ears. It was much prettier than Father’s hair, but I knew who she had inherited the color from.

I struggled to tear my eyes away from my little sister and turned to face my mother. My vision going blurry from the tears that filled my eyes, I said the one thing I knew she was waiting to hear.

“Hi, Mom. I’m home.” I gave a small, awkward wave, not knowing what I would do if she didn’t recognize me.

But my fears were unfounded. She raced toward me at a speed that seemed even faster than Grandpa Virion’s, but that might have just been because of my blurry vision.

“Oh, my baby! Arthur!” She arrived in front of me and collapsed to her knees, her arms around my waist. She gripped me with all her strength, as if afraid that I might disappear again if she let go.

“You’re alive! The voice… I knew it was you! You’re back now! Yes, you’re home now. Arthur, my baby!” Her sniffles became sputters, then she broke into sobs.

I couldn’t even manage a complete sentence; I kept my lips tightly shut to hold back my own sobs.

With my head buried in my mother’s shoulder, I thought, You can be an allpowerful, immortal tyrant, but in front of your loved ones, the ability to control your emotions eludes you.

I kept repeating in half-gurgled exclamations that I was alive, that I was home, that I wasn’t leaving. My mother was a flurry of emotions. She was ecstatic that I was alive and home; she was mad that I hadn’t come back sooner; she was sad at the thought of how long I’d been away from them and how hard it must have been for me—all at the same time.

Eleanor had joined us and was patting Mother’s back.

“Mama. There, there.

Don’t cry.” When her attempts at comforting our mother were unsuccessful, Eleanor began crying right along with us.

“Arthur!” I turned my head, my face still wet with tears, and saw the sprinting, sweatdrenched figure of my father. The maid must have told him I had returned.

He didn’t stop until he reached us, and then he simply slid on his knees, hugging us all until we nearly toppled over.

“Arthur!

My son! Look how big you are. Oh my God! You’re back, you’re back!” My father was cupping my head in his hands to get a better look at my face. Then he broke down, placing his large hand on the back of my head and bringing my forehead to touch his.

It must have been quite a scene: my mother sobbing uncontrollably, embracing me; my oblivious little sister crying with her; my father and I just looking at each other with tears in our eyes—all of us indescribably glad that we were finally together.

Eventually, we all managed to settle down. My mother pulled me to sit next to her on the couch, Eleanor on her lap. Father took a seat in a chair he had pulled up, facing me, his elbows on his knee as he leaned forward. Mother was holding my hands as if afraid to let go, and the tears welled up anew every time she looked at my face.

“Are you all right? Did you get three meals a day? You slept well and dressed warmly every day, right? Oh, my baby. Look how big you are now.” Tears escaped her eyes as she smiled at me. She stroked my hair and planted a soft kiss on the crown of my head.

“Thank God you’re back. I’m so happy,” she whispered, her voice still trembling.

Eleanor, calmer now, was watching Sylvie and me curiously; the baby dragon was sitting next to me, attentively observing the three unfamiliar humans.

My father kept looking at Sylvie with a strange expression, but he didn’t mention her.

His gaze would return to me, and his eyes would soften. He kept shaking his head, repeating how big I was now. It must have been a fulfilling yet miserable feeling for him, as a parent, to see how big his son had gotten but know he hadn’t been there with me to witness it.

“Ellie, say hi to your big brother. He was away for a while, but he’ll live with us from now on. Come on, say hello,” my mother gently urged my sister.

“Bruh-der?” She tilted her head, reminding me of a confused Sylvie.

She cupped her hands over my mother’s ear and whispered something.

“Yes,” my mother laughed, “that big brother. The one I always told stories about. He’s the one.” My sister’s eyes were sparkling as she looked at me. I couldn’t help but wonder what stories Mother had told her.

“Hi, bruhder!” she said, beaming, and waved both of her little hands at me.

“Hello, Eleanor. It’s nice to meet you… sister.” I laughed and patted her head.

Father spoke up now. “Arthur, we were devastated after… that incident—we could barely believe it when you contacted us that first time. Tell me, how did you survive the fall?”

It took a while for me to explain everything from the beginning, and I withheld some information that I thought it best not to tell them just yet. I explained that I had subconsciously wrapped myself in a protective layer of mana and was lucky enough to hit a bunch of branches on the cliff before landing in a stream.

I told them about meeting Tess and how she had been kidnapped; how, after I had rescued her, she’d led me to her kingdom and how I had been welcomed there.

“You said something about an illness that kept you from coming back sooner.

What was that about? Are you well now?” my mother asked anxiously.

Shaking my head, I explained, “You don’t need to worry about that. I guess there was some sort of instability in my mana core that gave me episodes of pain. It was really bad at first, but luckily there was an elder who knew how to cure it. It was a slow process, but he assured me it wasn’t life-threatening, if treated properly.”

Relief replaced her prior worried look, and she silently patted my head again.

“So what’s the story with this little friend of yours?” my dad asked with a chuckle, looking at Sylvie.

“While I was travelling, I stumbled into a mana beast’s den. She was badly injured, and she died shortly after I arrived. She seemed to have been guarding something, so I picked it up, thinking it might be something valuable. I didn’t know it at the time, but it was an egg. The egg hatched only a couple of months ago so she’s still a baby. Say hi to Sylvie.” I picked her up, her limbs dangling like a kitten’s in my hands.

“Kyu!” she purred, as if greeting everyone.

I wasn’t telling my family the whole truth, of course, but I had already promised myself I would tell them everything only after I was older and more capable.

I then asked them to update me on everything that had happened after we had been separated. The only thing I knew—which I had seen through the water divination—was that they lived here in Xyrus, but nothing more, and I was exceptionally curious.

Father summarized the events of their last few years, and then my mother chimed in.

“That’s right!

The Helstea family is away on a trip, but they should be returning today. They’re going to be so surprised when they see you, Art!” I turned to face my mother.

She hadn’t changed much since I’d last seen her,

though she had lost a bit of weight and was slightly paler in complexion. My heart ached for her; I knew this was a result of the stress and depression of losing me.

Father, however, seemed to be in much better shape now than he had been, probably as a result of his work as an instructor for the Helstea Auction House guards. His new physique, coupled with his beard, made him look much more rustic than he had before.

“Dad. What color is your mana core now?” I asked as Sylvie resumed her place on the top of my head, tail swishing in contentment.

A confident grin spread across my father’s face, and he proudly replied, “Your old man broke through the light red stage a few years back. I’m a dark orange mage now.” I raised my eyebrows in surprise.

In his early thirties, my father was doing pretty well for himself. The average mage who didn’t attend school usually stagnated at the red stage—perhaps light red if they were lucky. Of course, it was different for the elites, who had a much purer lineage and access to better resources, but for a standard mage, my father was doing very well indeed.

He then leaned closer and said, “I bet you only asked me that so you could brag yourself. Let’s hear it: What stage are you at now?” Scratching my cheek, I mumbled, “Light red.” My father had already been leaning forward in his chair, but upon hearing that, he jerked in surprise and tumbled completely out of it. Even my mother let out a gasp of surprise.

“Holy shit!” my father exclaimed.

“Shet!” Eleanor echoed, laughing at my father falling.

“Honey! What did I say about cursing in front of Ellie?” my mother reprimanded him, blocking my sister’s ears.

“Sorry. Sorry! Ellie, don’t listen to what your papa just said.” He then turned back to me.

“My son—still the same genius he always was. Come on. Have a quick spar with your old man.” My father grinned menacingly and clasped my shoulders.

“Dear! He just got home. Let him rest.” Mother pulled me back.

“It’s fine, Mom.” I gently placed my hand on top of hers, giving her a reassuring smile.

“Men! Always trying to fight. Isn’t that right, Ellie?” My mother shook her head helplessly.

“Papa and bruhder are men!” echoed Ellie, trying to mimic our mother’s expression, and Father and I both laughed this time.

It was good to be back. We had just stood up to move to the backyard when I heard the door open.

“Rey! I just heard your son was alive. What the hell is going on?” A thin, proper man with glasses and neatly parted hair was standing there, sweating in his suit, his wife and daughter—or so I assumed—running in behind him.

“Vincent, everyone! I would like you to meet my son, Arthur. He’s back, Vince!” My father wrapped his arm around the man’s shoulder.

“Arthur, this is Vincent Helstea, an old friend and the person I now work for.

This is his house, so introduce yourself before we start wrecking it,” he added, grinning broadly.

Bowing to a ninety-degree angle, I introduced myself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Helstea. I am Arthur Leywin. I’m not sure what my family has told you about me, but they didn’t know I had survived the incident back then.

Thank you for taking care of them all this time.” This man had sheltered my family during their toughest time. As far as I was concerned, I owed him and his family dearly.

“It’s really no problem,” he said with a slight stutter. “I’m just glad that you’re alive and safe.” He adjusted his glasses as if to make sure he was really speaking to an eight-year-old.

“Meet my wife, Tabitha, and my daughter, Lilia,” he continued, pushing them forward.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am, Lilia.” I bowed again, and Sylvie introduced herself, too, with a “Kyu!” Tabitha gave a kind smile in response.

“It’s lovely to have you in our home, Arthur. Say hi, Lilia! Arthur is your age so don’t be shy.” The little girl, Lilia, spoke up, pointing hesitantly at the creature on my head.

“What’s that? It’s so cute.”

“This is an infant mana beast that I’m bonded with. Her name is Sylvie.

Sylvie, get down and say hello.” Sylvie leaped off my head and mewed at Lilia.

“Oh my gosh!” Lilia squealed “Rey, what did you mean by ‘wrecking my house’?” Vincent asked, finally tearing his eyes away from Sylvie.

“We were just on our way out to the backyard. Arthur and I are going to do a little sparring. Want to come?” He chuckled.

Vincent sputtered incredulously. “What? Are you serious? Your son just returned from the dead and you want to fight him? Besides, Arthur can’t be older than eight. Why would you want to spar with him?”

“Don’t let my son’s age fool you. He’s already a light-red-stage augmenter,” my father harrumphed proudly, puffing his chest.

Vincent just shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, Rey. Your eight-year-old has already awakened and gotten past three stages?

Even the snobby genius brats who get admitted into Xyrus Academy are barely at the dark red stage, and that’s when they’re eleven or twelve.”

My father laughed louder in response. With an arm around Vincent’s shoulder, he ushered us all to the backyard, saying only, “You’ll see. Besides, I have a little surprise as well.” On the large grass lot outside, I set Sylvie down off to one side of the audience, which consisted of my mother and sister and the Helstea family.

Then my father and I put proper distance between ourselves.

“Ready when you are,” I smiled.

“Be careful, Art. You may be light red, but your old man is still at a higher stage than you.” My father pounded his fists together, giving me a confident smirk.

I glanced at Vincent, who was still shaking his head in disbelief.

“Come on,” my father taunted, assuming an offensive stance.

It was time to see how all my training with Grandpa Virion would pay off.

One of the mysteries about mana formed inside the core during the earliest stages was that it differed depending on how augmenters and conjurers used it.

Although it was expensive, many parents chose to have their newly- awakened child tested with a special device to see what element they were most adept with. A conjurer’s attribute became evident based on what type of elements they had an easier time casting.

For augmenters, however, it was much less obvious, because most of their attacks focused on using mana to enhance their bodies. However, even augmenters displayed differences in how adept they were with certain types of elements.

One quick example was gathering mana into a single point and releasing it in an explosive attack. Although no actual flames were involved, an augmenter who easily utilized mana in that manner would typically be considered a fire-attribute mage.

But that only applied in the beginning.

It varied from person to person, but after meeting a certain threshold in one’s mana core and comprehension of the element, the user could utilize mana in a way that actually pertained to their attribute.

For conjurers, this meant they could start slowly progressing away from the training wheels of chanting and start shortening their verses—or even completely forgoing it for the element they were most adept at.

For augmenters, it would become much more noticeable because they could begin actually manifesting their elemental attribute instead of simply manipulating mana in a manner corresponding to their elemental attribute.

For example, before breaking through, a fire-attribute augmenter’s attack would simply carry a more powerful explosive burst, while wind-attribute augmenters would find it easier to manipulate mana into faster and sharper attacks.

However, with sufficient comprehension, the augmenter’s element attribute would actually influence their attacks physically. Earth-attribute augmenters could learn to produce a gauntlet of earth or even create small seismic shocks by stomping their foot, while wind-attribute augmenters could be taught to release small blades of wind or create a vacuum effect in their punches, and so on.

These were all techniques a mage could utilize upon sufficient comprehension of his or her respective element.

Of course, conjurers still had a major advantage, being able to influence more of their surroundings. Their range was also greater, but their weakness was still their vulnerability in the process of chanting, as well as the fact that their bodies weren’t naturally protected by mana.

Because of these differences, mages who could break the threshold were much stronger than mages who couldn’t, and this ultimately determined their talent and what accomplishments they could achieve.

While conjurers could innately control elements because of their proficiency at absorbing nature’s mana with their mana veins, augmenters were different.

For every single-attribute augmenter, there were ten who weren’t. There were cases of attribute augmenters who never broke the threshold to become fullyfledged elemental attribute augmenters. This was where proper schooling came into play; with enough guidance from an early age, a mage would be more able to gain comprehension of their elemental attribute.

My body, already strengthened through assimilation, now responded to mana much more readily than it had before. Before my father had time to prepare, I was within punching range of his body.

Even my hearing was more sensitive now, and I could hear Vincent murmur,

“What in the…” as well as gasps from the others.

My father responded immediately, and I could sense mana spreading throughout his body.

Feigning a punch, I twisted my torso and went for a high kick, but was promptly blocked by my father’s left arm.

He clearly hadn’t expected my kick to be as powerful as it was. His arm was flung back by the blow, opening his guard. But before I was able to make use of that opening, he used the momentum to chop at my body with his right hand.

It was obvious that I was now in a disadvantaged position, but my full previous lifetime of fighting had already prepared me for countering him. I took his chop with my left forearm and right palm to soften the blow—and also to create enough space for me to slip inside.

I didn’t have enough leverage to shoulder-toss him, so instead I grabbed his right arm and kicked at the back of his right knee.

Losing his balance, he fell forward as I used my mana-imbued body to throw him. Unfortunately, he regained his balance more quickly than I had expected, and I had no choice but to put some distance between us before he got a hold of me.

“I’d have to say you’re better than all the mages I’ve trained. Your old man’s going to get serious now, though! Be careful,” Father grunted, his face a mask of intense concentration. It was obvious to both of us that we had each been holding back.

My father’s fists ignited, bursting into fiery scarlet gloves. His control over the fire element was at the novice level, as evidenced by the steam coming from his shoulders and head. This meant that there was unnecessary mana spreading throughout his body.

I had learned early on that my father was a fire-attribute mage, but after reaching a bottleneck for years while he raised a family, he was able to reach the orange stage and, more impressively, was able to break through in his comprehension in fire. He could now be considered an official elemental augmenter, or elemental for short.

I shot him a proud grin, then readied myself as well.

“Impressive, Dad… but now it’s my turn.”

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