Volume 02, Chapter 27

  A Little Rest

  The bustling streets are alive with chatter and the hum of life, but all I can focus on is the comforting warmth of my parents' hands. Their presence grounds me, steady and reassuring amidst the chaos.

  I am drawn to a shop window, where a toy gleams under the soft light.

  “A toy!” I exclaim, my voice brimming with excitement.

  Without thinking, I let go of their hands and dart toward the window, my small fingers brushing against the cool glass. The toy's vibrant colors call out to me, filling me with a longing I can’t ignore.

  Every kid at school has one. Every single one. Except me.

  Maybe this time, they’ll get it for me.

  “Mummy, can we buy that?” I ask eagerly, my voice high with hope as I press my finger against the glass, pointing to the treasure on the other side.

  I wait. Seconds stretch into moments.

  “…?”

  Silence.

  The absence of a response prickles at the edges of my excitement, dulling it. I turn, expecting to see her usual thoughtful smile that says, Maybe next time.

  But she’s not there.

  “Mommy?” My voice trembles, cracking as I call out again.

  The crowd presses on, oblivious to my growing panic. She was just here. Just a moment ago.

  “Mummy!”

  I spin frantically, scanning the bustling streets for her familiar face. She’s nowhere.

  It’s okay. Papa’s here. Papa will know what to do.

  “Papa, where’s Mommy?” I ask, my voice rising as I search for his familiar presence.

  But he’s gone too.

  I turn in every direction; my movements are frantic, but it’s as if the world is slipping through my fingers. The laughter, the colors, the streets—all of it dissolves into nothingness, replaced by an empty, endless void.

  The toy in the window is gone. The streets, the people, my parents—everything is gone.

  “Papa? Mummy?”

  My voice echoes into the void, swallowed by the vast emptiness.

  Panic grips my chest, constricting my breath. I tremble, tears streaming down my cheeks. The warmth of their hands is a distant memory now, replaced by the icy chill of loneliness.

  Where did they go? Why did they leave me?

  The void presses in, vast and unrelenting, and I crumble under the weight of its silence.

  Tears flow freely, silent sobs wracking my chest as I curl into myself, adrift and alone.

  The longing for the toy is gone, replaced by a deeper ache—a desperate yearning for the arms that held me and for the voices that soothed me.

  But there is nothing.

  Just me. And the crushing weight of loneliness.

  ════ ?★? ════

  “Hah… hah!”

  I jolt awake, gasping for air like I’ve been pulled from the depths of a dark, suffocating sea. My heart pounds relentlessly, each beat reverberating in my ears, matching the chaos of my thoughts.

  “M-Mum… D-Dad…”

  Their names stumble from my lips, trembling with the weight of longing and sorrow. Why now? Why do they visit me in my dreams, when their absence only tears deeper into the wounds I thought I’d begun to heal?

  Is this their way of expressing disappointment? That my previous life ended so abruptly, leaving them behind, my responsibilities unfulfilled?

  Tears well up, blurring my vision. My chest tightens, each breath catching on the edge of despair.

  But no.

  I draw in a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. They wouldn’t want this. My parents, wherever they are, wouldn’t want me to be consumed by regret. They would want me to live, to embrace this second chance—a chance I’ve been inexplicably given.

  My breathing steadies. Slowly, the crushing weight in my chest lifts, replaced by a fragile determination.

  Glancing around, I ground myself in the familiarity of my surroundings. The warm light of my bedroom softens the edges of my panic, the faint scent of lavender from the fields earlier still clinging to my clothes. On my bedside table, a healing potion glints faintly in the dim light.

  I grasp the bottle, uncorking it with a practiced motion. The liquid slides down my throat, and almost instantly, the pain in my shoulder dulls. A comforting warmth spreads through my body, soothing the exhaustion lingering in my muscles.

  Setting the empty bottle aside, I glance at the clock. 7:33 PM. It’s been hours since Maurice’s grueling training session, yet it feels like a lifetime ago.

  With the training complete, it’s time to claim the reward that has been waiting for me.

  “System,” I command, “show my status.”

  I can’t help but smile. The stats reflect progress—not just in strength but in my overall capability. Each improvement is a step toward survival, a step toward mastering this new life.

  With 200 Stat Points at my disposal, I decide to distribute them evenly.

  “System, increase Strength, Endurance, Agility, and Speed by 50 each.”

  The instant the points are applied, I feel a subtle shift in my body—a newfound lightness, a strength simmering just beneath the surface.

  For the first time, I’ve broken into the [D-] rank. A small victory, but one that fills me with pride.

  A new feature? Intriguing. The prospect fills me with excitement and curiosity. If this is what I’ve accomplished so far, what lies ahead could be even greater.

  I lean back against my pillow, letting the calm wash over me.

  The past still weighs on me, but tonight, I’ve taken another step forward.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  And that’s what matters.

  -Creak!

  The soft sound of the door opening pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up to see Celine entering, a tray balanced in her hands. The rich aroma of soup wafts through the air.

  “Oh, you’re awake,” she says, her voice warm with relief.

  She walks over to my bedside and places the tray down gently, her movements as graceful as ever.

  “Arthur brought you here,” she chuckles softly, “even though the school has a perfectly good clinic.”

  Her humor draws a small smile from me. That sounds like Arthur—always going the extra mile.

  “And,” she adds, her expression shifting to something more amused, “I heard about your duel with Lumi Everheart tomorrow.”

  Word travels fast, even to Celine, it seems.

  “Yeah,” I reply, leaning back against the pillows. “She challenged me out of the blue.”

  Celine takes a seat on the edge of the bed, her gaze thoughtful. “I see… she must be interested in you.”

  “It seems that way.” I shrug, keeping my tone casual.

  Her comment isn’t surprising. From what I know of Lumi in the web novel, she never hesitates to challenge anyone who catches her attention. Testing their strength is her way of understanding them.

  Celine’s lips curl into a small, knowing smile. “It seems the future of this family will be bright.”

  Her words catch me off guard, a hint of confusion flickering across my face. What does she mean by that?

  Before I can ask, she shifts her tone. “By the way, why were you injured? I asked Arthur earlier, but he seemed just as confused.”

  Her question pulls me back to the present. I can see the concern etched in her features, her eyes scanning me for any lingering signs of pain.

  I recount everything—Maurice’s grueling training, the traps, the relentless tests, and the wolves. I don’t spare any details, knowing she’d rather have the full picture than a vague explanation.

  As I speak, her expression shifts, her worry growing more apparent with each passing moment.

  “Dominic,” she says softly, “are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I reassure her with a nod, though my mind momentarily drifts back to the wolf cub. The image of its small form, its soft cries, and the lifeless bodies of its guardians still lingers, a weight I can’t quite shake.

  “Mum,” I ask hesitantly, “what happened to the cub?”

  “Arthur took it to an animal conservatory,” she answers.

  Relief floods through me, though the guilt remains a quiet undercurrent. I’m thankful for Arthur’s actions—at least the cub is safe now, its future secured in the care of others. Yet the sadness of its loss persists, a reminder of the harsh realities of survival.

  Celine watches me closely, her gaze softening as if she can sense the thoughts swirling in my mind.

  “You’ve had quite the day,” she says gently, “but you’ve made it through. And tomorrow… well, I know you’ll be ready.”

  I glance at her, her faith in me unwavering, and feel a renewed sense of resolve.

  Despite the challenges, the traps, and the guilt—I’m prepared. Lumi’s challenge awaits; this time, I’ll be ready for whatever comes next.

  "By the way, André went to see Maurice today."

  Her words hit me like a thunderclap. My breath catches, and a thousand scenarios flood my mind, each worse than the last.

  “Why did he go?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

  “I’m not sure,” Celine replies, placing the empty tray aside. “But he looked agitated.”

  Agitated. The word gnaws at me, feeding the storm already brewing in my chest. Did my injuries somehow tip André off about Maurice’s training?

  Images flash through my mind, vivid and relentless. I imagine André and Maurice meeting in some shadowy corner, the air thick with tension. Maurice’s overwhelming power crackling around him like a living storm, and André standing firm, his resolve unwavering.

  What if Maurice loses control? What if André doesn’t realize the danger he’s in? Maurice could level cities with a mere flick of his wrist—what chance would André have against that?

  The scenarios spiral out of control. André, lying injured—or worse—on the cold ground, and me, powerless to stop it. The thought twists my stomach, the weight of it pressing against my chest until it feels like I can’t breathe.

  And then another thought strikes me like lightning: What if this confrontation spirals? What if André’s involvement exposes my secret—the fact that I’m Manaless in a world that reveres magic?

  The fear grips me tighter, a vice squeezing the air from my lungs. My vision blurs, tears stinging as panic rises in an unstoppable wave.

  “D-Dominic, what’s wrong?”

  Celine’s voice cuts through the fog of my spiraling thoughts, her hands steadying me, grounding me. Her touch is warm, firm but gentle, an anchor in the storm threatening to pull me under.

  I blink rapidly, tears spilling over, and struggle to find my voice.

  “Mum, what if… what if Dad and Professor Maurice fight?” The words tumble out, fragile and trembling, barely more than a whisper.

  Celine kneels beside the bed, her eyes filled with a warmth only she can offer. She gently wipes away my tears, her thumb brushing my cheek with a tenderness that soothes the chaos inside me.

  “Dominic, listen to me,” she says softly, her voice calm and steady, like the eye of a storm. “Your father and Maurice have known each other for years. They may have their disagreements, but they won’t fight. They both care about you too much to let that happen.”

  Her words are a balm, slowly easing the tightness in my chest. I take a shaky breath, letting the weight of her reassurance sink in.

  “But what if… what if things get out of hand?” I ask, the lingering shadow of fear clinging to my words.

  Celine smiles gently, a mix of affection and mild amusement softening her expression.

  “Dominic, you’re overthinking this,” she says, her voice light yet firm; she squeezes my shoulder, reassuring me. “Your father isn’t the type to act rashly, especially with someone like Maurice. And Maurice? He’s far too composed to let something like this escalate. They’re not going to fight.”

  Overthinking. I know she’s right—I’ve fallen into this trap too often. I take a deep breath, trying to ground myself in her words, her clarity.

  The world isn’t ending. I’m safe. André is safe. Maurice is more than capable of handling anything.

  “I’m sorry, Mum,” I say, my voice steadier now. “I guess I let my imagination run wild.”

  She chuckles softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from my forehead. “It’s okay, darling. It’s natural to worry, but don’t forget—you have a family that loves you and will always support you.”

  Her words wrap around me like a comforting blanket, chasing away the lingering traces of fear. Despite everything, I find myself smiling, her presence filling the room with a warmth I hadn’t realized I needed.

  “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice thick with gratitude.

  Celine leans in and kisses my forehead gently. “Now rest, Dominic. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

  I nod, feeling the last remnants of tension melt away as I lean back into the pillows. For now, the storm has passed.

  ════ ?★? ════

  The atmosphere speaks of exclusivity in an opulent café, where plush velvet chairs complement crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow over marble floors. This is no ordinary café—it is a haven of luxury, where whispered secrets are exchanged over gourmet coffee and indulgent pastries, far from prying eyes.

  Amidst this extravagant backdrop, two figures command the room, their mere presence radiating authority. André and Maurice sit at a finely adorned table, the only patrons in the establishment.

  “It’s quite the gesture to reserve the entire café just for this meeting,” Maurice remarks, his voice light yet edged with intrigue.

  “And yet you’re opting for formalities today, Maurice? That’s unlike you.” André’s tone is calm, though a subtle tension underpins his words.

  The mana emanating from both men fills the air with a tangible energy, a silent testament to their unmatched power. Even the seasoned staff of this elite establishment seem uneasy, stealing glances as they bustle discreetly in the background.

  André sets his cup down with deliberate care, breaking the silence. “Let’s skip the pleasantries. You know why we’re here.” His gaze locks onto Maurice, piercing and unwavering.

  Maurice leans back in his chair, a faint smirk on his lips. “Here I was, thinking this was just a friendly catch-up. But please, enlighten me.”

  André sighs, his exhale carrying a mix of disappointment and frustration. “Maurice, enough with the act. I’m talking about Dominic. Why did you put him through such an extreme training regimen?”

  The room’s tension sharpens, the air almost crackling with unspoken words.

  Maurice meets André’s intense stare with unflappable composure. “André, let’s be honest. Left to your methods, his training would have been far too soft. You’d coddle him, shield him from challenges.”

  André’s jaw tightens, his fists clenching on the table. He doesn’t refute the claim—Maurice isn’t entirely wrong.

  Maurice presses on. “Given Dominic’s unique situation—his lack of mana—it’s imperative to push him beyond ordinary limits. He must compensate for his lack of magic with superior physical capabilities and tactical brilliance. You’ve said it yourself: if magic is out of reach, his body and mind must become his strongest assets.”

  André takes a steadying breath, his concern still evident. “I understand the logic, Maurice, but the risks—”

  “—are inevitable,” Maurice interjects smoothly. “Every training regimen carries risk, especially for someone in Dominic’s position. He’s more vulnerable than most, and that vulnerability needs to be addressed head-on. Caution will not prepare him for the challenges he’ll face.”

  André looks away briefly, his worry warring with the truth of Maurice’s words. “There’s a line, Maurice. Between pushing him and breaking him. I trust you, but he’s my son. If something goes wrong…”

  “I assure you, André,” Maurice says, his tone softer but no less firm, “Dominic is far more resilient than you give him credit for. He’s already exceeded expectations. This training isn’t just preparing him physically—it’s forging his mental strength.”

  The air between them grows heavier, laden with the weight of responsibility and unspoken fears.

  André sighs deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Fine. I’ll trust your methods. But keep me informed. Dominic is my family. He’s my son.”

  Maurice inclines his head. “Understood. His well-being is my priority as well. You have my word.”

  André leans back, a faint hint of relief crossing his features. “How did Dominic fare today?”

  Maurice’s expression lightens. “Remarkably well. He even managed to close the gap between us during training despite my emulation of the Everheart combat style. t seems you’ve been teaching him Basic Gun Arts effectively.”

  André’s brow furrows in thought. “That’s… unexpected. I never taught him Basic Gun Arts.”

  Maurice’s surprise is evident. “Wait. You didn’t teach him?”

  “No, I didn’t,” André replies firmly.

  A rare flicker of intrigue crosses Maurice’s face. “Then who did? He’s showing proficiency far beyond what could be learned through casual practice.”

  André crosses his arms, his expression darkening. “That’s what concerns me. Dominic claims he learned from watching videos on Sylvtube. But mastering Basic Gun Arts requires hands-on instruction. You can’t simply pick it up by watching a screen.”

  Maurice leans forward, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “This raises more questions than it answers. If neither of us taught him, then who did? And why haven’t they come forward?”

  The realization settles heavily between them. The fact that Dominic has acquired such skills without their knowledge hints at something—or someone—they haven’t accounted for.

  André runs a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “I’ll talk to him again after the duel with Lumi. I don’t want to stress him out before then.”

  Maurice sighs, his gaze sharp. “You’re too soft, André. I’d use a mind-reading spell and get to the truth immediately if it were me. He’ll just lie again.”

  André’s expression hardens. “I’m not crossing that line, Maurice. He’s my son, not some subject to interrogate. I’ll wait.”

  Maurice shakes his head but doesn’t press further. “Do as you wish. But don’t let this go unanswered for too long. There’s more to this than we realize.”

  André stands, extending his hand. “Thank you, Maurice. Despite our disagreements, I know you have his best interests at heart.”

  “Of course, Trash.”

  Maurice’s smirk and playful jab draw an exasperated groan from André.

  “What was that, Twat?” André fires back, his grip tightening as their handshake becomes a subtle contest of strength.

  “Merely expressing my gratitude, Trash. You’re welcome.” Maurice’s tone remains light, though the playful glint in his eye speaks volumes.

  Their banter, tinged with rivalry, echoes the complexity of their bond—a friendship built on mutual respect and sharp wit.