The first afternoon after coming back to school, at the Ravenswood house.

  "Hey Luther, that sweet-talking kid might look trustworthy, but you must not let him find out you're an Ascended One, understand?" Acher warned with a sharp voice.

  Luther gave a silent nod and continued watering the rows of vegetables with steady, practiced movements.

  “Don’t forget that, ever! Alright, so what are we eating tonight?”

  “Chicken fried rice.”

  “What’s fried rice?”

  “Rice ... being fried.”

  After dinner.

  Luther sat in the living room. He pressed his index finger to the crescent-shaped mark on the center of his chest, guiding a thin thread of deep black-blue magic to trickle out. The faint stream of energy drifted toward the gray egg resting on the table. A stinging sensation followed wherever the magic flowed inside him, not ignorable but endurable.

  Letting the Ascended Power out in a controlled stream caused far less internal damage than casting actual spells with it.

  Once the egg had “fed,” it twitched a little, nearly unnoticeable movement, then returned to stillness. Luther attempted to offer it another strand of mana, but this time the shell repelled it, preventing entry. He had no choice but to draw the energy back in.

  “That’s all it can take for now,” Acher remarked, tone thoughtful. “Still no idea what species it belongs to. It doesn’t show any distinct markings.”

  He stepped forward, wings folded back, beak leaning in, and was about to tap the egg as Luther lifted it out of his reach.

  “What’s the big deal? I was just going to see how sturdy the shell is,” Acher said, feigning innocence. “Anyway, judging by how difficult that quest was, this thing's gotta be at least an arcane or grand rank creature. Maybe even an epic-rank egg, though that’s a bit of a stretch.”

  He paused, then added:

  “I think we could just fry it up and eat it. Even if it’s epic-rank, it won’t be able to help you in anything once you’re fully grown. It'll be a pet at best.”

  “No eating. Plenty of eggs. In the fridge,” Luther replied, tone flat and wary eyes fixed on the raven. “But. What if. A demigod? Born strong like. Tarisel?”

  Acher gave a low scoff.

  “Things don’t work that way. Just because something is born with the potential to reach the arch rank doesn’t mean it starts there. For example, a white-tongued crab is usually at the imp or brute level when it hatches. It’s only after surviving long enough and reaching adulthood that it can become a fiend demon.”

  The raven shifted his wings and began explaining, voice slipping into his usual lecturing tone:

  “Of course, species potential still matters a great deal. A demon from a grand-rank species can reach fiend or nightmare rank with little effort. On the other hand, a brute-spieces demon has almost no chance of ever becoming a high demon, even though it’s just one rank higher.”

  “What about humans?” Luther asked.

  “Most humans are born without any ability to sense magic at all. Your strength is something else: the highest reproductive rate among all high-intelligent species.”

  Acher gave a sideways look and added with a snort:

  “Other fast-breeding races, like hellworms or flower bunnies, tend to have very low intelligence. Meanwhile, some high-intelligent species like pureblood dragons or naturekin have birthrates so low that it borders on tragedy, inverse to their lifespan and power.”

  Luther listened to each word.

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  “A massive population allows humans to produce countless rare talents like prodigies, rare magical constitution or even freakish outliers. Combined with accumulated knowledge passed down through generations, humans have risen to become one of the leading species across all realms,” Acher said. “It’s not all that surprising, after all, the first ancestors of humans came directly from divine bloodlines, even if they were the abandoned ones. That was also the reason why many gods find human appearance appealing, leading to ... encounters. And thus, children who carry fragments of great power were born. That’s one of the cornerstones of your kind.”

  “You mean. Demigods?” Luther asked again.

  “Yes and no.” Acher shook his head. “A god’s child isn’t always a demigod. The fact is that most of them only reach the epic, grand, or just arcane ranks. Some are even born mortal. The inheritance of magical ability is still one of the deepest mysteries in existence.”

  "Where did. First gods. Come from?”

  “From the Supreme Flow,” Acher replied, his voice seemed like echoing from ancient times. “When the One stirred for the first time, the cosmos was shaped. And born from the second time were the first protogenoi. They were Mother Earth, the Lord of the Abyss, the Attraction Himself, the Night Herself, and the Primal Darkness.”

  …

  The next morning, at the Attenborough house.

  Aaron called out from the living room toward the kitchen.

  “Aunt Hanna! Could you please make one more lunch box for me today? And can you make them more than usual too? Thank you so much!”

  Michael looked up from the laptop in front of him on the dining table. He set down his coffee mug and asked with a puzzled tone:

  “One isn’t enough for you? And what do you mean by ‘more than usual ’? Hanna always packs your lunches full.”

  “It’s not for me, Dad. It’s for a friend,” Aaron replied, finishing off a large glass of milk in one go.

  Michael raised an eyebrow.

  “The Wilsons?”

  He knew that Wilson’s and Kevin’s families were all well-off, and Aaron had never needed to bring lunch for them before. Plus, he asked for just one extra portion.

  “No, it’s for someone else.” Aaron shook his head.

  Helen, sitting nearby, leaned in with sudden interest.

  “Is it a girl? What’s her name? How old is she? Where does she live?”

  “Mom, it’s a boy! Why did you think it was a girl?” Aaron scowled.

  His mom always had a strange way of jumping to conclusions.

  Helen sighed but didn’t press further because Aaron had never shown any signs of being romantically interested in anyone before, which sometimes worried her a little. She asked another question:

  “So who is he? And why do you need to bring him lunch?”

  “He’s a new friend of mine; I don’t think you know him. His name’s Luther Ravenswood. He’s the smartest sophomore in the entire school! He helped me study, so I want to return the favor.”

  Helen gave an approving nod.

  “That’s good. You should hang out more with friends like that and stay away from the Wilson boys. They’re only going to get you into trouble. Your grades have been slipping lately, you know.”

  “Mom! They were just trying to make my birthday a little more fun. I promise that it was the last time. Please forgive them,” Aaron pleaded, trying to shift the subject away from his academic performance.

  “Hmph!” Helen gave a cold snort, then turned and left to get ready for work.

  Aaron watched her go with a long, weary sigh.

  “Don’t worry,” Michael gave a small shrug and said, trying to reassure him. “Your mom might seem mad, but I’m sure she’ll come around. She’s known the Wilson boys since they were all in preschool.”

  All boys are a little wild at that age. When he was in high school, he had been far worse: skipping school, fighting, chasing girls, drinking ... there wasn’t much he hadn’t tried back then. Of course, he never told Aaron any of that.

  “But I’m forbidding you from doing any more of that ghost-summoning stuff,” Michael said, his voice turning low and serious. “And also, stay away from alcohol. You might have a strong allergy to it. A serious one.”

  “I know, Dad, I promise!” Aaron replied. “Oh, and this afternoon I’ll be going over to Luther’s place for some extra studying, so I might be home a little late. I’ll call Uncle Adam to pick me up when I’m done.”

  “Fine, as long as you’re actually going there to study.” Michael gave him a warning look. “If you’re lying, don’t even think about going out again until the end of the year.”

  “Come on, Dad, what do you take me for?” Aaron grinned, trying to look as innocent as possible.

  …

  Lincoln High, lunchtime.

  “Hi Luther! How are you?” Aaron greeted as he sat down at the table.

  Luther gave a small nod in response.

  “I brought you and Mr. Raven some mini wagyu beef tacos with avocado sauce. You’ve got to try them, they’re amazing!”

  Aaron handed over a packed lunch box. And before Luther could even say no, Acher had already hopped over and used his beak to pop the lid open.

  “These look great. Pass me one, Luther. I’m starting to like this kid.”

  “They’re so good, I’m sure you and Mr. Raven will love them,” Aaron said with a big smile. “From now on, I’ll bring something different every day for you guys.”

  Then, with a casual tone, he added, “Hey Luther, you just became a reaper recently, right? That night I heard Mr. Raven say that it was your second mission.”

  Acher chimed in:

  “Just a month ago. And you’re lucky it was him who showed up. If it had been any other messenger of hell, you’d have been swallowed whole without a second thought.”

  Luther gave the raven a sidelong glance.

  It’s been just over a week. Why did he say a month?

  Still, he didn’t say anything and just kept eating.

  “I’m truly thankful to the Great Flow for bringing Luther into my life,” Aaron said, gazing straight at Luther.

  Acher:

  “…”

  Luther flinched a little.

  What is wrong with this guy? That sounded way too cringe.