As the first ray of morning light breached the heavy curtains of a particular room in the Kageno mansion, Anos Voldigoad's eyes snapped open with a startling precision. There was no grogginess, no hesitation in his movements. His body moved with an almost mechanical precision and efficiency that defied the natural rhythms of sleep.
In an instant, he was upright, his legs swinging off the side of the bed, and his feet touching the cold, marble floor without a hint of hesitation. Anos's motions were deliberate, every action calculated and executed flawlessly. He moved with a sense of purpose that was unparalleled, even in this peaceful era. His dark crimson eyes, sharp and perceptive, scanned the room as he stretched, analyzing every detail with a glance.
His inhuman gaze was not merely confined to the physical room, instead, his awareness expanded far beyond the ordinary, penetrating the mansion's walls. He perceived every individual residing within the expansive dwelling, the servants tending the gardens, and even the minute lifeforms—the insects stirring within the grass.
Yet, his extraordinary gaze didn't stop even there. It plunged further, reaching beneath the surface, burrowing into the earth's depths below the mansion. Anos had to consciously rein in his unfathomable perceptual abilities to prevent them from spiraling further down, piercing through to the planet's core, or even beyond into the endless cosmos.
The warm morning light bathed his features, casting a regal glow upon his face as he stood with an imposing grace. His posture was impeccable, his movements economical, as if every second counted. There was an air of authority and power about him that was unmistakable. Then without a word or gesture, the disheveled bed magically smoothed itself, and the curtains parted to let in the gentle sunshine.
With a satisfied hum, Anos took his first step toward the bedroom door. As he crossed the threshold, the room behind him remained impeccably ordered and without a single particle of dust in sight, a testament to his incredible power and inhuman perfectionism.
As Anos navigated through the corridors of the Kageno mansion toward the dining room, his outward demeanor was one of effortless amiability, seamlessly aligning with the norms of this era. Greeting the servants with an easy smile and a friendly nod, he exuded a sense of belonging, having fully acclimated to the intricacies of human society over the past three months. His interactions were natural and warm, reflecting his successful adaptation and perfect interactions with the humans around him. Each interaction was executed flawlessly, a testament to the precision that had become second nature to him.
As Anos approached the dining room, he was met by his personal maid, Millia, who greeted him with a warm smile.
"Good morning, Anos-sama," Millia said, her voice carrying a touch of genuine affection.
"Good morning, Millia," Anos replied, his tone polite and gracious.
Millia curtsied gracefully, a practiced display of respect. "I hope you had a restful night, Anos-sama."
Anos nodded in acknowledgement. "Yes, thank you, Millia. I trust everything is prepared for breakfast?"
"Of course, Anos-sama. Everything is in order,"
With this brief exchange, Anos proceeded into the dining room, where his human parents were already seated at the ornate table. Their expressions radiated tranquility and familial warmth. But as his mother's gaze met his, a sensation he had become familiar with, but not quite comfortable with, a complex, nearly primitive sensation burst forth within him, manifesting as a pronounced chill that raced down his spine, prompting every hair on the Demon King of Tyranny's body to unnaturally stand on end.
Interestingly, during his reign in the past era, not a single entity in all of existence had the power to evoke such a response from him.
In the initial phases following his reincarnation, this bizarre sensation coming from his mother's presence had been no more than a subtle, prickling nuance, almost a whisper of a feeling that was easy to dismiss. But now, as he had recovered a substantial measure of his formidable powers, this once-dormant prickling had escalated in severity. It now resonated through his very core, like a frosty touch that glided down his back, demanding his utmost attention.
Besides the enigma that was his human brother, Cid, this cryptic physiological response towards his human mother had also been another source of deep contemplation for Anos over the past few months. The burgeoning intensity of this feeling seemed inextricably linked to the steady reawakening of his powers, amplifying with each sliver of his authentic might that he repossessed. It felt as though his very source was resonating, or perhaps conflicting, with something latent and hidden deeply within his mother's aura, something that his present condition, or potentially his current scope of comprehension, couldn't entirely fathom.
Anos had conducted countless silent inquiries into the phenomenon, delving into the vast recesses of his ancient knowledge and even shamelessly employing the use of dozens of divination, analysis, and auxiliary spells on his mother, yet the origin of this unexplainable response eluded him. It was an anomaly, a deviation from the predictability of his memories and experiences. Faced with no discernible explanation and his unwillingness to offend his mother further than he already did so far, Anos had no choice but to come to a temporary acceptance of this 'quirk' of his new reincarnated body, a unique reaction reserved solely for the connection with his biological mother. Still, in the privacy of his thoughts, he couldn't quell the notion that this mystery was a crucial piece of a much larger puzzle than Cid waiting to be solved.
"..."
With a small, respectful nod towards his parents, Anos took his place at the other side of the dining table. His mother, her eyes filled with maternal 'warmth', greeted him with a tender smile, "Good morning, Anos."
"Good morning, Mother, Father" Anos replied with a 'smile', even though the inexplicable sensation still lingered.
As the family immersed themselves in the familiar routine of breakfast, an underlying tension subtly tinged the air, a quiet storm brewing beneath the comforting clinks of cutlery and porcelain.
"..."
Anos's father, usually a cheerful figure, seemed unusually fidgety. His eyes darted between his wife and son, acutely aware of the unspoken friction that always seemed to charge the air with a nervous energy whenever the two were in close proximity recently.
—--------------------------------------------
The morning light spilled softly into the dining room, casting long shadows and bathing everything in a gentle golden hue. Despite the serene start to the day, an unease had taken root inside me. My hands trembled slightly as I reached for my cup of tea, taking a sip in hopes that the warmth might calm the jittery nerves dancing in my stomach. Though it was an ordinary morning, an unspoken tension hung thick in the air, a silent specter at our breakfast table.
I stole a glance at my wife, her posture as unyielding as the cold expression she donned. Her attention was entirely anchored to her plate. Then my gaze shifted to Anos, our son.
He sat in silence, not partaking in his meal but instead, his narrowed eyes were intensely focused on his mother, a depth of contemplation in his stare. This alteration in our family's atmosphere was not just noticeable; it was profoundly disconcerting.
Memories of better days flickered through my mind—days when our home was filled with laughter, the delightful aromas of cooking, and light-hearted teasing. I fondly remembered my wife and Anos, shoulder to shoulder in the kitchen, debating the right amount of herbs for the mushroom gratin, their faces alight with the simple joy of being together.
But those days seemed like relics of the past now. The warmth that once bound us had inexplicably cooled, leaving a chasm I couldn't begin to bridge. Our shared love of cooking had soured, each meal now a silent battleground where unspoken words and tensions simmered just below the surface.
Caught in this familial crossfire, I felt like a useless man lost at sea, adrift and powerless. The tension between my wife and Anos was a language I couldn't decipher, a riddle with no solution in sight. And it pained me, left me sweating and anxious, desperate for a lifeline back to the way things were just a few weeks ago.
In a bid for some semblance of normalcy, I cleared my throat, my voice betraying my unease as I addressed my son. "Anos," I started, the pitch higher than I intended, "Uh, son, there's something we need to...um, discuss, yes. About your...future plans." I laughed—an awkward, stilted sound—and avoided meeting my wife's eyes, her silent presence as imposing as a lioness commanding her domain.
Anos, perceptive as always, picked up on my distress and offered an olive branch. "You're talking about my impending trip to the capital today, aren't you, Father?" he replied, his voice a steady lighthouse in the stormy sea of my nerves.
"Yes, exactly, exactly!" I exclaimed, clinging to the topic like a lifeline. "Your studies at the prestigious Midgar Royal Spellsword Academy! Big, big things ahead for you, son." I was rambling, but the relief was palpable, washing over me as we navigated away from treacherous shores.
"We're both so proud, aren't we, d-dear?" I added quickly, seeking an ally in my wife with a fleeting, pleading look. Her stern gaze softened just a fraction, and she gave a curt nod—an unspoken agreement that, for now, we were on the same team.
At last, she spoke, her voice a calm river of authority that demanded attention. "Certainly, Anos. You have our full support. Just ensure you keep a healthy equilibrium between your 'studies' and exercise restraint." Her advice was typical of a parent, yet somehow it held a deeper meaning, a silent expectation that only Anos would understand and heed.
"..."
Anos's brow furrowed subtly, and at that moment, an inexplicable tightness enveloped my chest, hindering my breathing. I also noticed the liquid in my cup quivering, but I dismissed it as a trick of my mind.
Desperate to navigate away from the unsettling feeling, I again steered the conversation to the logistics of Anos's departure—travel plans, journey duration, packing essentials—pouring out of me in a frantic cascade. Anos, bless him, responded with all the patience and understanding of a saint, though I could sense his empathy for my plight.
As we talked, the tension that had coiled tight in the room began to ease, unraveling thread by thread. For the first time that morning, I allowed myself a shuddering breath, daring to hope that, maybe, we could find our way back to each other again.
As the breakfast continued, I found a strange comfort in the mundane details, allowing them to temporarily overshadow the profound changes that seemed to be tearing at the fabric of our family. Each bite, each sip of tea, became a momentary haven from the confusion and concern gnawing at my heart.
But even as we engaged in this dance of normalcy, my mind couldn't help but wander, probing the recent past for a clue, an indication of when the harmony had begun to unravel. Was it something I'd missed, an important event, or a subtle shift that went unnoticed in the daily happenings? The wholesome relationship we had nurtured seemed to have suddenly hit an invisible wall, and for the life of me, I couldn't fathom why.
As we finished our meal and the maids began to clear the dishes, a fragile silence settled over us once more. It was a quiet that spoke volumes, heavy with the weight of things left unsaid, of emotions brewing just beneath the surface. I knew this peace was tentative, a thin veneer barely containing the storm I felt brewing.
Anos excused himself first, his demeanor composed as he informed us of his need to prepare for his journey. "I shall take my leave now to make the final preparations for my departure," he said with the maturity that so often surprised me, coming from someone so young.
"Of course, son. We'll... we'll speak more upon your return," I managed, offering a smile that felt as brittle as thin ice. His eyes met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a reflection of my own face there—before he nodded and strode from the room with that same purposeful grace.
My wife stood then, her movements smooth but mechanical, and I realized she was holding herself as tightly as I was. "I'll be in the garden," she murmured, more to herself than to me, but I nodded in understanding. We were both seeking space to breathe, to process.
As she started to walk away, however, I instinctively reached out, trying to prevent her from leaving. However, she suddenly whirled around at an impossible speed, her beautiful face contorted in a menacing scowl that promised pain. "Back off, Baldy!" she retorted sharply. The sudden use of that nickname stunned me, reigniting a fear I knew all too well. Immediately, I pulled my hand back, allowing her to depart without any further intervention.
Left alone in the aftermath, I felt the weight of my son's absence and the distance of my wife's retreating back like a physical ache. A sigh escaped me, and I ran a hand through my scalp, feeling suddenly weary.
The house seemed larger, emptier without the presence of my family, and I was struck by a profound sense of loneliness. I stood there, amidst the remnants of what should have been a pleasant family breakfast, feeling adrift.
Questions without answers swirled through my mind. What had happened to the warmth we shared? How had our strong, united family begun to feel like strangers residing under the same roof?
I shook my head, frustration mingling with concern. We couldn't go on like this, I realized with a sinking heart. Whatever was happening, whatever was causing this rift, we needed to confront it, to drag it into the light and understand it. Only then could we hope to bridge the gap that had opened between us, to return to the family we once were.
With a resolve bolstering my spirit, I made a decision. Once Anos returned, we would sit down together, all three of us, and lay everything bare. No more tiptoeing around the issues, no more silent breakfasts and tension-filled rooms.
"We are a family, and we would face this together, n-no matter what it took!"