Grey
I watched as Tessia passed through the gates of Xyrus Academy, having accompanied her so she could greet Cynthia.
'Don't you want to follow her, Papa?' Sylvie's voice echoed in my mind, her presence light as she rested atop my head, now in her small, fox-like form after her recent growth.
No, I replied firmly. Besides, I saw the elf who's supposed to be her grandfather. I don't want to interfere.
With that decision made, I turned away, heading toward Xyrus's Adventurer's Guild to prepare for my next mission. I needed to keep training.
Dicathen didn't offer the same rigorous opportunities I had back in Taegrin Caelum. Under Agrona's watchful eyes, I had access to the best training possible. Here, I had to make do with dungeons—my only real source of growth.
While dungeons were similar to the Relictombs, there was a crucial difference: Relictombs adapted to the ascender's capabilities. Dungeons, however, remained static. And while adventuring with Tessia had been valuable, I had only been able to take on B-Class dungeons at best.
Pulling out the beast core of the Phoenix Wyrm I had slain, I studied it carefully.
I had already absorbed most of its mana, using it to strengthen my own core. Yet, it hadn't shattered.
That meant one thing—it contained a Beast Will.
For a fleeting moment, I considered assimilating it, merging it with Sylvia's Beast Will. But the thought was quickly dismissed. Sylvia's Will would likely devour the Phoenix Wyrm's completely.
It wasn't worth the risk.
I tucked the core away, my mind already shifting toward the next step in my path.
Corvis Eralith
"When will you introduce us to your friend?" I asked, doing my best to keep my eagerness in check. Meeting Arthur—well, Grey in this timeline—was something I had been looking forward to all my life.
Tessia's excitement was palpable. "I swear, Corvis, you two will be fantastic friends! I just know it!"
Friends, huh? The thought stirred something deep within me. While remaining in the shadows, supporting Grey from afar, was arguably the safer route, a selfish part of me wanted more. I wanted to be someone who actively shaped the future, not just someone watching from the sidelines.
And what better way to do that than by standing beside the main character himself?
Yet, if this new life had taught me anything, it was that optimism could be dangerous. I had to be cautious, always.
Grampa's amused voice cut through my thoughts. "Are we already at the stage of family introductions?" he teased, prompting an immediate pout from Tessia.
"I never said you were involved, Grampa!" she huffed. "I want Corvis to meet Grey because I know they'll be able to help each other."
On that, I hoped she was right.
I had no doubt Grey would be invaluable to me. But I had to ensure I was just as valuable to him.
Grampa, ever the playful elder, sighed dramatically. "My little granddaughter is unrecognizable. She went on an adventure and returned completely changed!"
Despite the teasing, I saw it—that faint flicker of nostalgia in his eyes. We were growing up, and soon, these peaceful moments would become rarer.
I only hoped I could shoulder some of the burdens Grampa would inevitably face in the future.
———
The heavy doors of the Xyrus Adventurer's Guild swung shut behind us with a resonant thud, momentarily muffling the city's clamor.
"Grey! Grey!" Tessia's voice, bright and carrying, sliced through the guild hall's familiar din of clinking tankards, murmured negotiations, and the scrape of chair legs on stone. It felt jarringly loud after our hour-long, increasingly frustrating search through quieter streets and shops.
My own suggestion—the obvious place for an adventurer—had been met with Tessia's distracted dismissal earlier. Typical Tess, I'd thought with affectionate exasperation, chasing whims before logic, but she probably just wanted to spend some more time with me.
And then, amidst the crowd of weathered hunters and armored mages, I saw him.
He was finishing a conversation near the mission board, standing before Kaspian Bladeheart—the guildmaster's frame and distinctive visage unmistakable. My gaze snapped to the small figure turning away. Recognition, cold and electrifying, slammed into me with the force of a warhammer blow.
King Grey.
There was no mistaking it. The posture, even relaxed, even with a kid's body held that inherent, unconscious authority. The eyes, dark and assessing, scanning the room with a focus that belied his apparent ten years. The sharp line of his jaw, the set of his shoulders—it was him, compressed into a child's form. The sheer, impossible reality of it rooted me to the spot. He's here. Flesh and blood. Breathing the same air.
A frantic drumming began within my chest, a frantic counterpoint to the sudden stillness that had seized my limbs. Damn it, why is my heart trying to escape? It hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage of bone. The guild hall seemed to tilt slightly, sounds blurring into a distant roar. Twelve years.
Twelve years of searching, of chasing whispers and dead ends, of carrying the crushing weight of prophecy and preparation alone. And here he stood, casually conversing, utterly unaware of the seismic shift his mere existence triggered within me. Corvis, breathe.
Do not fumble this. Not now. Not with him. Fate's chilling words echoed in my mind's ear, sharp as shards of ice: Greatest ally... or worst enemy. The chasm between those two possibilities felt vast and perilous, and I stood trembling on its precipice.
"Oh, Tessia." His voice. Calm. Measured. Utterly devoid of childish inflection. It cut through my internal chaos like a knife. A small, silver-furred fox—Sylvie—appeared from behind his legs, chirping a greeting to Tessia.
"Grey!" Tessia bounded forward, her earlier frustration forgotten in her eagerness. She grabbed my arm, pulling me stiffly alongside her. "This is my brother! You remember? I've talked about him."
She gave me an unceremonious shove forward, like a proud but slightly impatient mother presenting a shy child at a social gathering.
The world narrowed to the space between us. Grey turned those fathomless eyes fully on me. I felt laid bare, stripped of my carefully constructed persona. An intense, mutual awkwardness descended, thick and palpable. He stood with a stillness that was unnerving in a child, his gaze analytical, guarded. He doesn't know how to do this either, I realized with a jolt.
This charade of childhood camaraderie. Apart from Tessia, forced into her orbit, who has he truly connected with? The isolation reflected in his stance mirrored my own childhood alienation so acutely it was almost painful. Damn, we are more similar than I ever expected.
"Hi..." Grey's voice broke the heavy silence. He extended his hand, a surprisingly formal gesture. "You are Corvis, right?"
I forced my own hand to move, reaching out to meet his. His grip was firm, controlled, lacking any childish limpness. As our palms connected, I saw it—the faintest arch of one eyebrow, a flicker of surprise, then intense scrutiny in his eyes. He noticed. Of course he did.
The absence of magic in me, a stark anomaly in this world, hadn't escaped his keen perception. The observation hung unspoken but deafening in the space between our clasped hands.
"Yes," I managed, my voice thankfully steady despite the internal tempest. "I am Tessia's brother." I held his gaze, willing composure into my expression. This was the first step. Acknowledgement. "Thank you," I added, the words feeling both insufficient and monumentally important, "for staying with her during these last three months."
His gaze didn't waver, but a subtle shift occurred in his expression. A slight tightening around his eyes, a micro-tension in his jaw. His focus seemed to turn inward for a fraction of a second. Sylvie. They were communicating. Silently. Swiftly.
What secrets were being exchanged about the strange, magic-less brother? What warnings, what assessments? The exclusion felt sharp, a reminder of the profound bond I wasn't part of, the history I couldn't share.
"There's no need to thank me..." he replied, his voice regaining its even tone, though a hint of something… complex… lingered beneath the surface. Resignation? Wry amusement? His eyes refocused on me, holding a depth that no child's eyes should possess. "I..." He paused, as if choosing the precise word. "...it was interesting."
"Interesting?" Tessia piped up, oblivious to the charged undercurrents, looking between us with bright-eyed satisfaction. "Seeing you two interact is like seeing sea and sky trying to switch place with each other!" She beamed, clearly pleased with her metaphor.
I blinked, momentarily derailed. Sea and sky… switching places? The nonsensical poetry of it clashed violently with the monumental, terrifying reality standing before me.
What in Dicathen did that even mean? My analytical mind, usually so adept at deciphering complex magical theory or political intrigue, stumbled helplessly over Tessia's attempt to capture the sheer, awkward strangeness of this first, world-altering meeting between the once-King and me, who Fate had bound to his destiny.
The silence stretched, thick with the unspoken absurdity of Tessia's metaphor. Grey's brow furrowed, a mirror to my own internal confusion, and he voiced the question hanging heavy in the air between us.
"What does that mean?" His tone was flat, genuinely perplexed, cutting through the awkward tension like a knife.
Tessia threw her hands up in an exaggerated sigh, the picture of long-suffering patience. "It means," she declared, pointing an accusatory finger first at Grey, then at me.
"That if I weren't standing right here, you two would still be locked in some silent, awkward staring contest! Frozen! Like statues carved by a particularly indecisive sculptor!" Her mock frustration was endearing, a familiar shield against the strangeness she sensed but couldn't quite name. "So," she announced, drawing herself up, radiating purpose, "I came prepared! I have a topic!"
She swiveled towards Grey, her earlier excitement surging back. "You see, Grey," she began, her voice earnest, "it was actually Corvis who taught me Mana Rotation. I didn't figure it out on my own." She delivered it like a revelation, a key she hoped would unlock our stoicism.
Grey's reaction was immediate but controlled. A single dark eyebrow arched upwards, a subtle ripple on the placid surface of his composure. But crucially, there was no hardening in his eyes, no flicker of suspicion or dismissal.
Only a spark of pure, undiluted curiosity ignited in those dark depths as they shifted from Tessia to me. That spark alone sent a small, almost dizzying wave of relief crashing through me. He's listening. He's not shutting it down.
"I figured as much," Grey admitted, his voice still measured, betraying nothing beyond acknowledgment. "But…" He paused, the word hanging, loaded with implication. His gaze locked onto mine, sharp and probing, the curiosity now honed into a focused intensity. "How did you discover that technique?"
The question landed with the weight of a gauntlet thrown down. How did you, a magicless anomaly, uncover a foundational secret many seasoned mages never grasp? He likely learned it himself—perhaps from Sylvia's fading wisdom, or in the crucible of Agrona's domain. But instead of the skepticism I braced for, his expression held only that keen, unsettling intrigue. It was more unnerving than hostility.
"It just came to mind," I answered, forcing my voice into a calm, level channel, a counter-current to the sudden nervous energy jolting through my veins. My palms felt slightly clammy against the fabric of my robe. "While reflecting on the nature of mana itself."
Technically true. When I had painstakingly broken it down for Tessia, guiding her young senses, I had spent countless hours dissecting the magic system's inherent structures, searching for the simplest, most elegant path to explain the flow. The how of my understanding remained veiled, a necessary omission hanging heavy in the air.
"Really?" Grey's single-word response was neutral, devoid of inflection. Yet, the very neutrality of it, the weight of his unwavering gaze, sent another, sharper jolt through me.
Why this anxiety, Corvis? I demanded of myself, clenching my hidden fists. Is it the fear of misstep? Of shattering this fragile, nascent connection before it's even formed? The terror that one wrong word could tilt the scales from 'greatest ally' towards 'worst enemy'?
I drew a slow, deliberate breath, anchoring myself in the logic of the technique. "Yes, really," I affirmed, meeting his gaze steadily. "The conventional method… it's static. Passive. Like drawing breath only when you remember to." I gestured vaguely. "But if initiated young, when the body and core are still malleable…" I saw Tessia in my mind's eye, frowning in concentration. "...it becomes possible to shape mana absorption actively. To mirror the instinctual flow of mana beasts. To move, to fight, even while drawing power." It was the core truth, stripped of its impossible origins.
A subtle shift crossed Grey's features. Not disbelief, but genuine surprise. It was there in the slight widening of his eyes, the minute relaxation of his jaw. It wasn't the reaction to a theoretical concept, but to someone articulating a lived reality he understood intimately.
"For someone who can't use mana," he began, his voice thoughtful, almost musing, the words carefully chosen, "you're incredibly knowledgeable." He paused, a flicker of something almost like… self-consciousness? crossing his face. "That probably sounded rude," he added quickly, the formality momentarily cracking. "But I meant it as a compliment. It's… impressive."
The tight knot in my chest loosened another fraction. "Thank you," I replied, offering a small, genuine smile this time. A quick glance at Tessia showed her practically vibrating with suppressed glee, giving me an enthusiastic, exaggerated thumbs-up behind Grey's back. Cheeky, impossible sister, I thought, a wave of fond exasperation momentarily eclipsing the tension.
My gaze then snagged on the spherical object cradled almost casually in Grey's hand. Meta-awareness instantly pinged. Phoenix Wyrm. The identification was instantaneous, reflexive.
"Is that a Phoenix Wyrm's core?" The question left my lips before I could fully process the implications of knowing.
Grey's head snapped up, his eyes widening perceptibly this time, surprise morphing into sharp, focused interest. "This? Yeah, it is." He held it up slightly, the dull sheen catching the guild hall's light. His gaze locked onto mine, intense, probing. "You've seen the beast cores of S-Class mana beasts before?"
Think fast. The lie formed instantly, smooth and practiced, a survival reflex honed over years of guarding impossible secrets. "No," I said, my voice calm, my expression carefully neutral, betraying nothing of the internal alarm bells. "I've just read extensively about mana beasts. Their physiology, their habitats… cores are often described."
His dark eyes held mine for a heartbeat longer, searching, assessing. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded. Seemingly satisfied. The tension bled out of my shoulders, leaving a faint tremor in its wake. Too close.
"Grey," Tessia interjected, perhaps sensing the momentary shift, her voice bright and insistent, "my brother doesn't seem it with the way he carries himself sometimes, all serious and quiet. But he is really a good person!" She beamed at me, utterly convinced.
Bad way I carry myself? Indignation warred with amusement. I maintain peak physical condition! My posture is impeccable! I project competence and reliability! It was the careful bearing of someone constantly preparing for war, for catastrophe. To Tessia, it probably just looked… stiff.
A faint smirk touched Grey's lips as he looked from Tessia back to me. "I am sure of it," he said, the words carrying a weight of their own. Not just polite agreement, but perhaps… a tentative acceptance? An acknowledgment beyond the surface awkwardness.
We had spoken. We hadn't combusted. He hadn't dismissed me. He'd been… curious. Even impressed. Is this… could this be a first step? The path ahead was fraught, shadowed by prophecy and secrets, but standing there, meeting Grey's thoughtful gaze, I dared to hope it was.