---
Chapter 17 – Blood, Sweat, and the Return
The days in the village passed slowly.
The house was quieter, colder without Rhea and Aeron. But Ray was no longer the tiny boy staring out the window. Now, he was up before dawn, in the backyard, fists clenched, face determined.
"Feet wider," Damian barked. "Lower your stance. You're not trying to squat a cow—balance, boy, balance!"
Ray huffed and adjusted his legs again, wobbling slightly as he mimicked his father's posture.
"For someone four and a half years old, you're not doing too bad," his father muttered, trying not to smile. "But don't expect me to go easy."
"I don't want easy," Ray grunted, sweat dripping down his brow. "I want strong."
"That's good." Damian's eyes glinted. "Because strong is all that survives out there."
Each morning was training: pushups, balance drills, light sparring, stretches.
Each afternoon was lessons: sword stances, simple mana circulation, breathing patterns.
Each night, Ray collapsed into bed, muscles aching, hands blistered—but a small smile on his lips.
The empty feeling in his chest from the twins' departure had dulled—replaced by purpose.
---
Then, six months later… the Portal opened again.
And Rhea stepped through.
Her robes were torn at the edges. Her hair was longer. Her eyes held shadows Ray had never seen before.
But she was smiling.
"RAY!"
Ray screamed her name and ran toward her, jumping into her arms.
"You're back!"
Rhea staggered slightly but laughed, holding him tight. "Of course I'm back. You think a couple of man-eating vines and sky serpents could stop me?"
"W-What!?"
She tousled his hair. "I'll tell you all about it. You've grown."
"You've changed…" he whispered, looking at her face. She looked older. Stronger. But tired.
"Yeah," she said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead. "I did."
---
That evening, the family gathered around the fireplace. Damian had opened a bottle of honey wine. Their mother had cooked roasted deer with forest herbs. It was a small celebration—but warm.
"So…" Ray whispered, crawling closer. "What's it like?"
Rhea looked into the fire for a long time before speaking.
"Dravania is nothing like here," she said softly. "The trees breathe. The rivers whisper. The nights are darker than pitch, and some stars… move."
Ray's eyes widened.
"Monsters?" he asked.
Rhea nodded. "Everywhere. Some small and fast. Others as tall as towers. Some intelligent. Some… far worse."
"Did you fight them?"
"I ran from most," she admitted, smiling faintly. "But yeah. I fought too. Got hurt. Got scared. Cried once, maybe twice."
She looked at him. "And I survived."
Ray's throat tightened. "What about Aeron?"
The room went still.
Rhea's smile faded. "He was teleported somewhere else. I haven't seen him."
Ray's eyes filled. "Is he okay?"
Their mother pulled him into her lap, hugging him close.
"He's strong," she whispered. "Just like you. And just like you, he'll come back."
"But… what if he doesn't?" Ray's voice cracked.
Damian walked over and knelt beside him.
"Listen to me, Ray. The Quest world isn't fair. It's not kind. But your brother… he's a fighter. These Quests? They test you. Grind you. Burn you. But if your heart's still beating, you fight your way back."
Ray sniffled.
Rhea leaned over and pulled something from her bag.
"Here," she said, placing a small wrapped bundle into his hands. "I made this from one of the vines I tamed. It's a charm. For protection."
Ray unwrapped it slowly. It was a braided wristband—green and blue, with a tiny fang hanging from the knot.
"I… I love it," he whispered, slipping it on.
"You better," Rhea said, leaning back. "It cost me a damn near-death experience."
---
That night, Ray lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the charm tight around his wrist.
He remembered Rhea's face—the way her eyes looked just a bit too tired for someone so young.
He remembered the flicker of pain when she mentioned Aeron.
And he made a silent vow.
"One day… I'll come to that world too. But I won't be scared. I'll be ready."
He closed his eyes.
The wind outside howled.
And somewhere far away, in the heart of Dravania…
…a twin brother fought monsters in the dark, unaware that his little brother was already preparing to follow.
------
Chapter 18 – The Return of the Storm
Years passed like quiet waves on a steady river.
Ray turned seven.
He wasn't the same quiet child anymore. His arms had gained strength. His eyes, sharp. Every morning began with sweat, bruises, and determination. Damian's drills had turned into full sparring sessions. Ray now wielded a short practice blade, and though he still lost… he lost better every time.
"Strike, pivot, sweep!" his father shouted during one intense morning.
Ray stepped in, swung, missed—pivoted, swept—got thrown again.
"Oof!"
He landed in the grass, face-first. Groaning.
Damian laughed. "You're improving. You almost scratched me."
"That's not helping," Ray muttered into the dirt.
His mother walked by with a basket of fruit. "Get up, future warrior! Breakfast will run away if you don't chase it!"
Ray glared playfully and got back to his feet.
---
That evening, the air changed.
A strange, glowing ripple spread across the sky. Ray looked up from the porch, a chill dancing down his spine.
"Mother…" he whispered.
Before she could answer, a soft, familiar voice echoed from beyond the gate.
"...Still short, huh?"
Ray froze.
The voice. The tone. The smirk behind the words.
He turned.
"AERON!!"
The gate creaked open and Aeron stepped in, taller, broader, a long black-and-gold coat flapping behind him. A heavy sword hung from his back, and a glowing bracelet hummed on his wrist. His smile was cocky—but his eyes… his eyes searched, immediately softening as Ray ran into his arms.
"You're back…" Ray's voice cracked. "You're really back…"
Aeron crouched and hugged him tightly. "Took a while, huh?"
Ray buried his face into his brother's shoulder. "You were gone forever…"
Aeron's hand gently patted his back. "Two years. But every day, I imagined this."
Behind them, their mother wiped her eyes. Damian placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it silently.
Rhea stepped forward and punched Aeron on the shoulder. "You smell like wyvern poop."
"Missed you too, sis."
---
That night, the house buzzed with life. The table overflowed with food: grilled meats, fried roots, honey cakes, and spiced wine. Aeron sat with Ray beside him, telling stories with exaggerated flair.
"There I was… three beast-men surrounding me, all of them with axes bigger than my chest. Do I run? No. Do I beg? Hell no. I punch the biggest one right in the nuts!"
Ray burst into laughter. "You didn't!"
"I did. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. The other two? Ran. I swear."
"Language!" their mother called from the kitchen.
"Sorry!" Aeron grinned, then leaned closer. "She doesn't know half the things I had to say in Dravania."
---
Later, he pulled something from his bag.
"Ray, this is for you."
It was a small crystal orb, glowing faintly with light. A rune pulsed on its surface.
"It's a beast avatar. Not a real one yet—this is a level-1 soul imprint, just for bonding. But once you awaken, you'll be able to summon it properly."
Ray blinked. "It's… cute."
A small, fluffy fox-like creature appeared inside the orb, curled up and blinking with wide, curious eyes. White fur, a tiny horn, and glowing blue eyes.
"What's its name?"
"You'll name it when the bond's complete," Aeron said, ruffling his hair. "But it's loyal already."
"I love it!" Ray hugged the orb to his chest.
Rhea peered over. "You sure that's not a disguised soul-eating fox?"
Aeron smirked. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Their mother stepped in. "Okay. Everyone. No soul-eating tonight. We're going out."
"Huh?" Ray looked up.
Damian was already pulling on his coat. "We're celebrating. The whole family. Outside."
---
The village square was still buzzing with light. Strings of floating orbs lit the paths. Music played from mana-speakers. The food stalls were open. Laughter echoed.
The family walked together, Ray in the middle, still clutching the orb.
They danced—clumsy and happy.
Aeron arm-wrestled three hunters and won.
Rhea beat her mother in a card game and was promptly accused of cheating.
Ray played tossball with village kids while his father bought fried meat skewers from a cart.
---
As the night deepened, Aeron leaned against a bench beside Ray.
"You'll awaken soon."
Ray nodded. "I want to go to Dravania too."
"You will," Aeron said, handing him a drink. "But enjoy this time. It goes fast."
"...Was it scary?"
"Hell yeah." Aeron chuckled. "But it made me who I am."
Ray looked at the orb again. The tiny beast inside blinked at him.
"I'll be ready."
---
The Money System on Earth:
As they walked home, Damian explained something Ray had never understood fully before.
"Our world works on two currencies: Standard Credits (SC) and Core Points (CP)," he said.
"Credits are for everything: food, clothes, transport, tech. You earn them from jobs, quests, trade."
"Core Points are rare. You only get them from dungeons or beast kills in Dravania. You can trade CPs for advanced weapons, skills, even System upgrades."
Rhea added, "Some noble families hoard CPs. It's their true wealth."
"And the government controls portal access," Aeron said. "Families like ours get limited slots. That's why the Awakening Quests matter. You prove you're worth investing in."
Ray nodded slowly, trying to remember it all.
Someday, it would matter.
But tonight… tonight he was just a boy with his whole family back together.
And for the first time in years—he felt whole again.
---Chapter 19 – Blades, Beasts, and Bonds
The sun rose lazily over the village rooftops, bathing everything in a warm gold. Today felt different—charged, like the hum of mana in the air.
Ray stood near the gate with his sister Rhea and brother Aeron, now both proud Quest-returnees, while Damian, their father, locked the door behind him.
"Ready?" Damian asked, tossing a coat to Aeron.
"Born ready," Aeron smirked, adjusting his belt with that cocky confidence Ray admired too much to admit.
Rhea was quiet as always, eyes sharp and hair tied tight. She carried a leather pouch strapped to her back—filled with who-knew-what.
Ray tightened his boots, heart thumping.
They were going shopping.
But not just for food or books.
Today, they'd buy weapons.
---
The Armory Shop – "Steel & Spark"
The family walked into the main city district, past glowing neon signs and magical tech shops, until they reached a large black building shaped like a giant axe lodged in the earth.
A metal board swung outside:
STEEL & SPARK – WEAPONS FOR SURVIVORS.
Inside, the air smelled of oil, smoke, and something hot—like metal left too long under a sun.
A burly old woman stood behind the counter. Tattoos crawled across her arms like vines.
"Well, if it isn't the Stormbloods," she grunted, eyeing Damian.
"You here for toys or real teeth today?"
"Starter blades for my boy," Damian nodded. "And some tune-ups for these two."
Ray wandered the shelves. Swords, daggers, staffs, guns, spears—even clawed gauntlets, all neatly lined up, each humming with quiet power.
Aeron picked up a short rifle with a curved grip. "PulseShot G-17… not bad. Good for beast control at mid-range."
"Too heavy," Rhea muttered, testing the balance on twin daggers. "Speed kills faster."
Ray reached out and picked up a short, curved blade with a glowing line through its spine.
"Monosteel," the shopkeeper said behind him. "Cuts through bone with the right push. Not flashy, but clean."
He nodded, gripping it.
"I'll take it."
---
Into the Forest
The woods just outside the village were calm—but not tame.
The path they took was narrow, covered in green, and pulsed with life. Birds sang, and mana-flowers blinked open in the shade. But under that beauty lay hidden teeth.
Damian stopped after an hour's walk and turned.
"Now listen."
His voice shifted—firm, commanding.
"Beasts are classified in Tiers and Levels."
"In our human world, most beasts are wild mutations—creatures warped by ambient mana or leftovers from the old wars. They range from Level 1 to 5. Rarely above that."
"Those above Level 6?" He glanced at Aeron. "Almost always come from the Second World. Either escaped... or sent through."
Ray frowned. "Why would they come here?"
Aeron answered, softer than usual, "To feed. To reproduce. Or because something worse pushed them out."
Rhea spoke next. "And some… hunt humans for pleasure. Not all beasts are dumb."
Damian nodded grimly. "In Dravania, the rules are different. Every living thing fights. Even the plants. Beasts evolve constantly. You may find a Level 3 wolf one day, and the next week it's Level 6, breathing fire."
Ray shivered.
"So… how do you survive?"
"You don't always," Aeron said bluntly. "You run. Or hide. Or kill first."
They walked deeper into the forest, to a clearing near an old stream. Damian threw down a bag and pulled out marked crystals.
"Now we train. You'll learn how to use what you carry. Rhea, set up the targets."
"Yes, father."
Ray stepped up, gripping his new blade.
Damian threw him a wooden stick first. "You earn the blade. Show me form."
Ray nodded and took his stance.
---
Training, Beast-Talk, and Questions
The family trained for hours. Aeron corrected his grip. Rhea showed him how to move from his hips. Damian barked orders and made him repeat every mistake.
Later, as they sat under the trees and ate smoked meat, Ray finally asked:
"What do the beasts want in Dravania? Why fight so hard?"
Aeron's eyes darkened.
"Some fight for territory. Others obey stronger beasts like generals in an army."
Rhea added, "Some are just… hungry. But the worst ones, Ray? The ones we call Voidborn… they hate us. Like it's instinct."
"Not just humans," Damian added quietly. "They hate life. Period."
Ray looked at his blade, heart heavy.
"...I don't want to fight. But I want to protect. Does that count?"
Damian gave a rare smile.
"That's where all warriors start."
---
Nightfall – Returning Home
As the stars began to rise, they returned to the village, sore and satisfied. Ray's arm ached from training, his palms red from the hilt grip.
But he smiled.
For the first time, he'd held a weapon—not to play. But to become ready.
And now, he understood a little more about the world outside his peaceful home.
A world of beasts, blades, and battles.
And one day, he would enter it too.
---Certainly! Here's Chapter 20 of Lord of the Dead, written as a cohesive, immersive story chapter—light-hearted and emotional, focusing on Ray's rest day, family bonding, and some playful drama.
---
Chapter 20 – A Day Without Swords
The smell of burnt pancakes drifted through the house like smoke from a distant battlefield. Ray blinked his eyes open to soft morning light pouring through the windows. For once, it wasn't the sound of wooden swords clashing or his father barking orders that woke him. No drills. No beast lectures. Just birds. Actual birds.
A smile tugged at his lips. Today was different.
He rolled out of bed, hair wild and sticking in all directions, and padded downstairs in his pajamas.
"Smells like fire and regret," he mumbled.
"In that case, breakfast is ready," came his mother's voice from the kitchen. She stood barefoot, flipping pancakes onto a plate. The stack looked slightly more black than brown, but they steamed comfortingly. A kettle hovered in the air behind her, bubbling tea on a controlled flame.
At the table sat his father, Damian, squinting at a holographic newspaper. His strong jaw clenched, as if even leisure reading needed discipline. "You're burning the edges again," he said without lifting his eyes.
"I'm seasoning them," she replied.
"Seasoning them with charcoal?"
Ray chuckled and sat down at the table. "Morning," he greeted them.
"Morning, champ," Damian replied with a rare softness.
His mother placed the plate down and kissed his forehead. "Eat. Today, you're not allowed to train or talk about mana cores or battle formations."
"Not even monster anatomy?" Ray teased.
"Especially not monster anatomy," she warned.
Just then, Aeron and Rhea, his twin siblings, entered in typical fashion—Aeron groaning like the undead, and Rhea fully dressed and ready to spar with someone, even if it was the furniture.
"Smells like ash in here," Aeron grumbled.
"Perfect. Matches your cooking," Rhea shot back.
"Mom made them."
"Oh."
They all sat around the table, the usual playful insults flying. For once, their father didn't stop them.
---
After breakfast, the family headed out. Damian had declared it an official "sword-free day." No one was allowed to mention training, and any accidental mana flaring resulted in a 5-push-up penalty—Ray racked up ten within an hour.
But it was worth it.
Ray ran across the yard, barefoot, his tiny winged beast avatar fluttering behind him. The little creature—Ash—looked like a cross between a fox and a storm cloud, with glowing blue eyes and stubby wings that flapped like it was trying to fly for the first time every time.
"Catch, Ash!" Ray threw a small mana-glow ball.
Ash leapt heroically, missed completely, and face-planted into a bush. Ray burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.
"Your beast is brave," Aeron called from the tree swing. "But dumb."
"He's a baby, like you were when Rhea stole your shoes and you cried for two hours."
"That was emotional manipulation!" Aeron protested.
"Still worked," Rhea grinned from her perch on the fence.
Their father sat on the porch, quietly sharpening a blade—not training, just habit. Their mother watered the glowing flowers near the fence, humming an old lullaby from her homeland.
---
Later, the kids gathered around the small fire pit in the yard, roasting marsh-fruits on sticks. Ash curled up in Ray's lap, tail flicking with every new sound. It was the kind of moment so calm, so human, that Ray felt his chest ache.
"This is nice," he murmured.
"Enjoy it," their mother said. "These days don't last forever. Before you know it, one of you will be storming through a beast-infested canyon or lost in some ruin full of murder puzzles."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Rhea replied, licking fruit syrup off her fingers.
Their father raised an eyebrow. "It is a bad thing."
Everyone laughed.
---
As the sun dipped behind the trees, casting everything in gold, Ray lay in the grass with his siblings. Ash rested beside him, snoring gently. Aeron threw stones into the sky, trying to hit a mana drone that passed too close to the treetops. Rhea told a ridiculous story about a two-headed bear that got drunk on honey wine and joined a local militia.
"I wish every day was like this," Ray whispered.
"Me too," Rhea said, surprising them with her honesty.
There was a silence. Not heavy—comfortable. A silence between people who knew one another's heartbeat.
Ray looked up at the sky, stars starting to pierce through the fading blue. In that moment, he didn't care that his system hadn't awakened. That he hadn't stepped into the second world. That everyone else seemed to be growing faster.
He had his family.
And for today—that was more than enough.
---
End of Chapter 20
Next: "The Day Before the Storm" – the world keeps turning, but peace is always short-lived…
Would you like me to continue with the next chapter?---
Chapter 20 – A Day Without Swords
The smell of burnt pancakes drifted through the house like smoke from a distant battlefield. Ray blinked his eyes open to soft morning light pouring through the windows. For once, it wasn't the sound of wooden swords clashing or his father barking orders that woke him. No drills. No beast lectures. Just birds. Actual birds.
A smile tugged at his lips. Today was different.
He rolled out of bed, hair wild and sticking in all directions, and padded downstairs in his pajamas.
"Smells like fire and regret," he mumbled.
"In that case, breakfast is ready," came his mother's voice from the kitchen. She stood barefoot, flipping pancakes onto a plate. The stack looked slightly more black than brown, but they steamed comfortingly. A kettle hovered in the air behind her, bubbling tea on a controlled flame.
At the table sat his father, Damian, squinting at a holographic newspaper. His strong jaw clenched, as if even leisure reading needed discipline. "You're burning the edges again," he said without lifting his eyes.
"I'm seasoning them," she replied.
"Seasoning them with charcoal?"
Ray chuckled and sat down at the table. "Morning," he greeted them.
"Morning, champ," Damian replied with a rare softness.
His mother placed the plate down and kissed his forehead. "Eat. Today, you're not allowed to train or talk about mana cores or battle formations."
"Not even monster anatomy?" Ray teased.
"Especially not monster anatomy," she warned.
Just then, Aeron and Rhea, his twin siblings, entered in typical fashion—Aeron groaning like the undead, and Rhea fully dressed and ready to spar with someone, even if it was the furniture.
"Smells like ash in here," Aeron grumbled.
"Perfect. Matches your cooking," Rhea shot back.
"Mom made them."
"Oh."
They all sat around the table, the usual playful insults flying. For once, their father didn't stop them.
---
After breakfast, the family headed out. Damian had declared it an official "sword-free day." No one was allowed to mention training, and any accidental mana flaring resulted in a 5-push-up penalty—Ray racked up ten within an hour.
But it was worth it.
Ray ran across the yard, barefoot, his tiny winged beast avatar fluttering behind him. The little creature—Ash—looked like a cross between a fox and a storm cloud, with glowing blue eyes and stubby wings that flapped like it was trying to fly for the first time every time.
"Catch, Ash!" Ray threw a small mana-glow ball.
Ash leapt heroically, missed completely, and face-planted into a bush. Ray burst into laughter, clutching his stomach.
"Your beast is brave," Aeron called from the tree swing. "But dumb."
"He's a baby, like you were when Rhea stole your shoes and you cried for two hours."
"That was emotional manipulation!" Aeron protested.
"Still worked," Rhea grinned from her perch on the fence.
Their father sat on the porch, quietly sharpening a blade—not training, just habit. Their mother watered the glowing flowers near the fence, humming an old lullaby from her homeland.
---
Later, the kids gathered around the small fire pit in the yard, roasting marsh-fruits on sticks. Ash curled up in Ray's lap, tail flicking with every new sound. It was the kind of moment so calm, so human, that Ray felt his chest ache.
"This is nice," he murmured.
"Enjoy it," their mother said. "These days don't last forever. Before you know it, one of you will be storming through a beast-infested canyon or lost in some ruin full of murder puzzles."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Rhea replied, licking fruit syrup off her fingers.
Their father raised an eyebrow. "It is a bad thing."
Everyone laughed.
---
As the sun dipped behind the trees, casting everything in gold, Ray lay in the grass with his siblings. Ash rested beside him, snoring gently. Aeron threw stones into the sky, trying to hit a mana drone that passed too close to the treetops. Rhea told a ridiculous story about a two-headed bear that got drunk on honey wine and joined a local militia.
"I wish every day was like this," Ray whispered.
"Me too," Rhea said, surprising them with her honesty.
There was a silence. Not heavy—comfortable. A silence between people who knew one another's heartbeat.
Ray looked up at the sky, stars starting to pierce through the fading blue. In that moment, he didn't care that his system hadn't awakened. That he hadn't stepped into the second world. That everyone else seemed to be growing faster.
He had his family.
And for today—that was more than enough.---
Chapter 21 – The Day Before the Storm
The sun had barely crested the trees when Ray found himself clinging to his father's thick leather belt, eyes wide as they left the village gates. It was the first time since his brother returned that the entire family had stepped out together—his father leading, Rhea humming, Aeron walking with mock pride, and Ray skipping to match their pace.
"I feel like a hero on a quest," Aeron said, adjusting the wooden sword on his back like it was a legendary blade.
"Don't trip on your own ego," Rhea muttered, rolling her eyes.
"Ray, remind me to ignore your sister when I'm famous."
"I'm literally five," Ray replied, snickering.
Their father, Doran, let out a deep chuckle. "You three, behave. We're heading to Stonepass Market today, not a battlefield."
Ray blinked up at him. "Papa, are there swords? Like real ones? Not the fake ones brother uses to play hero."
"Hey!" Aeron protested.
"Yes," Doran said, ruffling Ray's hair, "Real weapons. But not for you, little cub. You'll get a stick for now."
Ray crossed his arms. "Unfair."
As they walked, Doran shared stories about the outside world—of warriors traveling between cities, of magical beasts that wandered the deep forests, and of strange artifacts found beyond the portals.
They finally arrived at Stonepass, a small outpost market lined with wood and metal stalls. Magic lanterns hung like floating stars, and vendors shouted about enchanted seeds, beast pelts, and low-grade mana crystals. People of all shapes bustled through: cloaked mages, armored knights, and even some beastkin travelers.
Ray's mouth fell open. "This… is better than our whole village!"
"It's only a market," Rhea said, flicking his forehead. "Wait until you see the Capital."
At the weapon stall, their father handed each child a pouch of coins.
"Buy what suits your path," he said. "Nothing flashy. We're not royalty."
Aeron immediately grabbed a short sword—silver-hilted, modest but sharp. Rhea picked a collapsible spear that could double as a walking stick.
Ray picked… a slingshot.
"What?" he shrugged when everyone stared. "It's cool!"
The stall owner laughed. "Best choice I've seen all day."
After shopping, Doran led them to a forested ridge just outside town. The trees were thick, but not dangerous.
"Now, listen," Doran said, kneeling. "You've seen books, heard stories. But beasts—real ones—aren't games. Here's the breakdown."
He pulled out a leather-bound booklet and flipped to a page with beast icons and stars.
"Level 0 to Level 3 beasts are common here on Earth. They're manageable but still dangerous to villagers."
"Like wild hounds and shadow rats," Rhea added.
"Exactly. But beyond the gates, in Damian…" Doran's tone darkened. "Level 4s and 5s roam freely. Even level 6 and 7 in the wild zones."
Ray frowned. "Are there 10s?"
"Yes," Doran said seriously. "But if you ever meet one before you awaken… run."
They all nodded.
Ray spent the next few hours practicing with his new slingshot, with Aeron pretending to be a beast. He missed every shot—but somehow managed to hit a bird's nest, earning a rain of twigs and an angry mama bird's wrath. The chase back to town was filled with laughter, feathers, and Ray screaming, "It's a high-level beast! Save me!"
That night, they sat around a bonfire in their yard. Rhea plucked a melody on a flute she bought, while Aeron spun a tale about how he'd saved her from a Level 6 Chicken Beast in the market. Their mother brought roasted fish and honey cakes, and Doran just watched quietly, sipping tea.
For a moment, Ray felt time freeze. The stars above, the fire's warmth, his brother's obnoxious laugh, his sister's snark, and his parents' quiet smiles.
It was perfect.
Too perfect.
Somewhere deep in Ray's heart, a soft pull reminded him: this peace would not last forever.
---Chapter 22 – Ray's 8th Birthday
The village of Asterwood had never felt livelier. Lanterns danced from rooftop to rooftop, glowing softly in the twilight air. Children ran through the cobbled streets with paper masks, and the aroma of sweetbread and grilled meat filled the wind.
Ray turned eight today—and for the first time in his young life, he was truly the center of everything.
He stood in the courtyard of their home, wearing a new sky-blue robe with golden trim. His hair had grown longer over the years, now tied back messily by his sister, who had declared, "You'll look like a forest prince, not a swamp goblin."
Excitement buzzed in his chest.
"Do you think they'll bring me a training staff?" Ray asked, pacing in front of the house.
"Maybe," Aeron said with a smirk. "Or a magic scroll for invisible farts."
Rhea gagged. "Why are boys like this?"
Inside, Doran and Elina watched with quiet smiles. Their little boy was growing up. Still without a system, yes—but full of fire, intelligence, and curiosity.
Elina held a small crystal sphere in her palm. "You think he's ready?"
Doran looked out the window, then nodded. "He's nearly eight, Elina. It's time he understands the world he'll walk into."
Just as the sun began to set, a sleek silver carriage pulled up outside the gate. It gleamed unnaturally under the fading light, marked with a gold crest—a lion's paw grasping a thunderbolt.
Ray's eyes widened. "That's not normal!"
From the carriage stepped a tall woman with sharp eyes and long crimson hair. Behind her, a boy about Ray's age followed, wearing robes far too clean for any normal kid.
"Raymond!" the woman called with a graceful wave. "Still breathing, I hope?"
Ray blinked. "Aunt Lydia?"
"Lady Lydia of House Flamewright," Rhea whispered. "She's Mom's old friend—and a noble."
"Of course she's a noble," Aeron muttered, brushing off dust from his tunic. "Look at the hair. Nobles always look like they were drawn by artists."
Lydia chuckled as she approached Ray and knelt slightly. "Eight already. I still remember when you were a squeaky, drooling bundle of fluff."
"I don't drool anymore!" Ray protested.
"Not visibly," Rhea added.
The boy next to Lydia stepped forward and offered Ray a box. "This is from my father and I. He couldn't come. Training. We brought a few gifts from the Capital."
Ray opened it slowly. Inside was a pair of enchanted gloves—small, dark-blue leather with faintly glowing runes.
"Training gloves," Lydia said. "They store kinetic force. Perfect for beginners with... potential."
Ray's eyes sparkled. "Thank you!"
"And that's not all," Lydia added with a wink. "Your parents asked me to share something important."
Elina and Doran stood beside Ray now, solemn but proud.
"Ray," Lydia began, "soon, you'll awaken. Or the world will awaken you. But your future will depend on more than power. Connections matter. Allies. Friends. Reputation."
She gestured to the crowd gathering in the courtyard—villagers, adventurers, friends of the family, and others Ray didn't even recognize.
"All of this? It's not just a party. It's your first step into the world. A statement."
Ray looked around, overwhelmed. "I don't… really get all of it."
"You will," his father said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We'll make sure you're ready."
That night, the party began. Dancers moved to the beat of drums. Children played catching games under the trees. Aeron and Rhea fought mock battles with wooden weapons, showing off their moves to their noble guest.
Ray sat beside the bonfire, the enchanted gloves on his hands, watching the stars.
Lydia joined him for a moment. "You'll be special, you know. I can feel it."
Ray looked up at her. "Even without a system?"
"Especially without one," she said softly. "Some destinies don't wait for a System. They forge their own."
---