Valtherion.
A man so composed, so sharp, so maddeningly capable—he might as well have been carved out of perfection itself.
As much as I hated to admit it, he was smart. Strong. I beat him once when I was a kid, sure... but deep down, I knew he was holding back.
That smug bastard.
He always carried this air of mystery around him, like a book with missing pages.
And now, as I followed behind him through a dim corridor that opened into a vast chamber, I could feel the tension coiling in the air like a tightened spring.
I didn't waste time. "Valth. Enough games. Where's my mother?"
He paused, turning with that infuriatingly smug smile tugging at his lips.
"Oh? Iris? Hm... not sure. She might be fighting one of your friends right about now," he said casually, as if discussing the weather.
"I already showed them her face. They won't hurt her. And they'll report back to me," I replied firmly, locking eyes with him.
"Really?" he said, amused. "You sound confident. But let me ask—how do you know they haven't already betrayed you?"
His voice dropped a little, laced with venom. "Here, everyone's your enemy. Even your so-called comrades might be plotting your death as we speak."
"And you'd never know," he added, "because traitors don't speak until the knife is already in your back."
I slowly drew my dual blades, letting the steel sing in the silence. "…You're right."
A breath. A heartbeat. "Everyone here is my enemy."
Then I raised one of the blades and pointed it straight at him. "And you… you're at the top of the list."
Valtherion smirked as he lowered into a stance, fingers twitching with anticipation.
"A priority target? Well," he said with a low chuckle, "I'm honored."
I charged straight at Valth, aiming a fierce slash at his head—but he dodged with ease.
Relentlessly, I continued my assault, blade swinging again and again—until he suddenly grabbed my arm and landed a solid punch to my chest.
Gritting my teeth, I staggered back. Valth yanked my cloak and attempted another strike, but I twisted away just in time, countering with a swift attack of my own. He ducked under it, slipping past me like a shadow.
He moved to strike from behind—sharp, silent—but I spun around, barely evading him, my blade grazing his cheek.
He flinched only slightly, and before I could press the advantage, he raised his weapon, blocking my next strike aimed for his head.
With my arm locked in his grip, I summoned every ounce of strength, driving my other blade straight toward his face.
He resisted with equal force, our strength clashing in a deadlock.
Then, with a sudden move, he pulled my arm downward. I instantly struck with my free hand—but he was faster.
He caught my wrist mid-swing, twisted, and rammed his elbow into my chest.
Pain flared through me, but I growled and lunged again, refusing to back down.
Valth stepped back, then leapt away in a clean arc, narrowly evading my relentless attacks—his eyes locked on me, calculating his next move.
I came down from above with a powerful strike—he blocked it with his arm. Without hesitation, I launched my other hand toward his chest.
But he caught my wrist mid-air—and in one swift motion, threw me across the room.
I twisted mid-air, landing hard on my feet before I could hit the ground fully.
Without wasting a second, I dashed at him again. But Valth effortlessly dodged every swing, slipped in close, wrapped my arm—and slammed me into the floor.
My back hit the ground with a brutal thud—but I wasn't alone. I grabbed him mid-throw and dragged him down with me, slamming him onto the floor as well. I rolled up quickly and drove my blade toward him.
Valth rolled to the side just in time—my blade plunged deep into the floorboards. The force knocked my hood off without me even noticing.
He rose slightly and delivered a sharp kick to my ribs, sending both of us crashing back to the floor again.
We scrambled to our feet almost simultaneously, then charged at each other without hesitation. I struck from above once more—but Valth dodged cleanly.
Every move I made—he predicted.
Of course he did.
He was one of the people who trained me.
I swung for his head again—fast, brutal—but Valth ducked under it with ease. I followed up with a low sweep to his legs, but he jumped back, just out of reach.
I slashed again, but he caught my arm mid-swing—then drove his elbow straight into my chest.
Before I could breathe, he grabbed the back of my head and smashed my skull into the floor.
Blood burst from my mouth as a sharp cry escaped me, pain screaming through every nerve.
But I roared back, forcing myself to my feet, and launched a furious dual-blade assault from both sides.
Valth blocked both arms with his own, locking me in place. He tried to kick-but his legs were barely holding him up. His foot scraped the ground in a clumsy low sweep I dodged, but then—
Crack!
His boot slammed into the back of my knee.
I dropped, one knee hitting the ground—and then his foot crashed into my back, sending me sprawling, nearly airborne.
I rolled, groaning, pain flaring through my ribs, but I tried to slash again from the ground—only for my arm to be pinned beneath his heavy black boot.
Then—
BAM!
A crushing kick to my chest sent me flying back, breathless, coughing, skidding across the ground.
Valth dropped to one knee, finally showing signs of strain-his breath ragged, his body battered.
After a long enough pause, we both pushed off the ground at the same time-charging straight at each other once more.
I slashed upward with force—Valth ducked under it effortlessly. In a blur, he sprinted behind me and drove a kick into the back of my knee.
A snarl of pain tore from my throat as I collapsed to one knee—but I didn't stay down.
I twisted around and slashed at his midsection, but once again, Valth leapt back just in time.
Without losing momentum, I lunged with my other hand, blade aimed for his chest—but he caught it, locking it in place.
I spun, trying to drive an elbow into his jaw—but he blocked it with his arm. I used that brief opening to thrust my blade again-desperate to land a blow.
But Valth evaded. Again.
I clenched my teeth, fury bubbling over. He was reading every move like a book.
Frustration twisted inside me, and my attacks turned wild-furious, reckless, fueled by rage more than form.
That was my mistake.
In an instant, I was slammed down to the floor, hard. And before I could rise properly, Valth was already gripping my wrist-tight.
I forced myself up, breathing heavy, teeth bared—Still caught in his hold.
My body was yanked forward—and a savage kick slammed into my gut.
Blood erupted from my mouth, painting the ground beneath me.
Another ruthless kick smashed into my face, and before I could recover, a brutal strike landed at the back of my neck.
My vision spun—but instinct took over. I hooked my arm around the leg pressing against my nape and hurled both him and myself violently to the ground.
I sprang to my feet, but Valth was faster. His foot crashed into the back of my head, sending me stumbling forward. Dizzy, I still managed to raise one of my blades and thrust it toward him in defiance.
But he caught my arm-both hands gripping tight like iron vices.
I was nearly slammed into the ground, but with a surge of raw desperation, I twisted my body and forced him downward, using the momentum to drive his weight into the floor.
I scrambled up, blade ready, and lunged to pierce his chest—but he rolled forward just in time, dodging the death blow.
With his grip still locked around my wrist, Valth suddenly slipped behind me in one smooth motion.
I swung backward in an attempt to strike him, but of course, he blocked it effortlessly.
His hand clamped down on my shoulder, and with brutal force, he slammed me to the ground.
I reacted instantly—thrusting my hips up and launching a kick with my foot straight into his shoulder.
Then, using that momentum, I arched my hips higher, wrapped my legs around his neck, and drove him into the floor with a vicious slam.
Valth dropped to one knee, dazed—but I was already moving, whipping a fierce kick toward his head. He tilted it just in time, barely dodging.
Without pause, I followed with a horizontal slash aimed straight at his skull.
But again, he ducked at the last possible second, the blade slicing through nothing but air.
Then I felt it—something was off.
My eyes widened in shock.
One of my dual blades... was gone.
He took it.
That move—he'd only ever shown me a glimpse of it before. A sleight-of-hand trick, incomplete, unstable. Not good enough to pull off in real combat.
But he just did.
I remembered Cerise—Valth's fifth student. She once stole my teleport gem without me even noticing.
So... the technique is complete now, huh?
I swung my blade again—but Valth caught it effortlessly, once more slamming me down to the floor with crushing force.
I tried to rise, legs snapping upward to lock around his head—but he evaded the move this time.
Undeterred, I slammed my foot against his neck, forcing his head down and finally managing to trap it against the ground with a vicious twist of my leg.
But then—pain exploded through my thigh. Valth had driven a blade into it.
I screamed, the agony forcing me to release him. I dropped to one knee, both of us now staring each other down—bloody, breathless, furious.
I lashed out with a slash—but missed.
Valth didn't.
His blade sliced across my stomach, tearing through my clothes, leaving a shallow wound that stung like fire.
Then came the kick-straight into my gut. I was launched backward, crashing through a table with a deafening smash.
Frustration boiled in my veins. My breathing was ragged. Everything hurt. But I still stood.
Valth was already charging at me again.
I lunged forward with a head-on thrust—but he parried it with ease. My fury surged.
Why can't I land a damn hit?!
He saw the opening—my guard down, my focus wavering. A blade pierced my front shoulder. I gasped.
Snarling through the pain, I kicked out with every ounce of strength I had left, forcing him back—just enough to breathe.
I marched toward him again, my blade aimed directly for his head—but Valth blocked it just in time.
He countered with a punch from the opposite side, but I caught his arm mid-swing. With both hands gripping tight, I hurled him into a nearby table.
The impact was brutal—wood cracked, and blood flew from his mouth as he collapsed to the ground, dazed.
Furious. Exhausted.
I grabbed his head with both hands and slammed his face down onto the wooden table.
CRACK.
The wood shook under the force. I lifted his limp body back up—only to drive him face—first into the table again.
Valth tried to strike back, but I caught his arm, spun him around, and flung him onto the same table with all the rage I had left.
It snapped apart beneath him—splinters flying—leaving him sprawled in the wreckage.
I didn't wait.
I leapt onto him, pinning his body down beneath mine, my blade pressing against his throat.
We locked eyes—both of us gasping for air, bodies trembling, drenched in sweat.
A single droplet fell from my brow, landing on his bloodied face. "You lost... bastard," I snarled between heavy breaths.
"Don't get too confident just yet," Valth muttered, his voice ragged.
I froze as I heard the sound of footsteps—slow, deliberate—approaching us. Closer. Closer.
On instinct, I jumped back, blood still dripping down my face, blurring half my vision.
"You're right on time," Valth said, being helped to his feet by a mysterious figure.
I squinted, struggling to see through the crimson haze, but their face... it was hidden, out of focus. My head throbbed. My breathing uneven.
"State your name!" I shouted, chest heaving, every nerve in my body on edge.
I couldn't read her face. But I could still hear her voice—clear, sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.
"Zero One."
My heart stopped.
That voice—No... it can't be.
It's her.
Before I could even react, she launched forward—her movements a blur.
A storm of strikes rained down on me. Fists, elbows, knees—her martial arts precise, relentless.
I couldn't hit back. All I could do was block. Endure.
Blow after blow.
Slash after slash.
Step by step.
Pain building with every impact.
Then she leapt back, landing gracefully, pausing—calculating, her hand still gripped the knife tightly.
And in that fragile moment of silence, I could barely keep my heart from shattering.
I knew that voice. I knew that name.
She tilted her head slightly and spoke again, her voice almost... respectful.
"He's a strong one... I'll give him that," she muttered, almost to herself. "Impressive, kid. Now... tell me your name."
"You'll regret attacking him, you know."
Valth's voice rang out from behind, sharp like a warning shot in the heavy silence.
The woman turned slightly, her amethyst hair catching the light, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.
Her expression was amused—curious, even. "Oh?" she replied, tilting her head. "And why is that?"
I stepped forward slowly. "…Because I'm not just anyone."
My voice was quiet—hoarse from blood and dust—but enough to catch her attention. As I reached up and pulled back my hood, she froze.
Half of my face was smeared in dried blood, bruised from the chaos of battle. But even through all that—She recognized me.
Her breath hitched.
Eyes widened.
Everything else in the world seemed to blur and fall away.
"Zero one," I said quietly.
No—Mother.
The woman before me—once a legend, now just a trembling figure—stared at me with disbelief etched into every corner of her expression.
Her weapon lowered, fingers twitching in hesitation. "…Arche?" she breathed.
It was barely a whisper. Like she was afraid saying my name out loud would break the illusion.
I nodded slowly, my heart pounding.
And the moment the truth hit her—She ran.
There were no more questions. No more hesitation. She dropped her weapon like it meant nothing and closed the distance between us in an instant, arms wrapping around me as if I'd slip away again.
"You're… Arche, right?" she said through a sob. Her voice trembled, raw with emotion. "You've really grown up…"
I held her close, feeling the weight of years in that one moment. The pain. The loneliness. The impossible reunion.
"It's been decades, Mom. Of course I've grown," I said gently, the tears I held back threatening to spill as I felt hers soak into my cloak.
She laughed—soft and broken—her tears never stopping. "You're right… I forgot how fast humans grow."
Her grip tightened around me. "I just… I never thought I'd see you again. Not in this life."
Her fingers trembled as they touched my face, tracing the edges of a wound with aching tenderness.
"You look so grown up now… and so much like your father."
She pulled me in again, burying her face into my shoulder, as though anchoring herself to reality.
And I let her.
I stayed in her embrace, letting the moment linger. But then—I felt her hands stiffen slightly.
She pulled back, just enough to look at me—and that's when she saw it.
The blood. The bruises. The fresh cuts across my cheek.
Her eyes widened, joy fading into something else entirely. Worry. Pain. That fierce, unmistakable instinct only a mother could possess.
"...You're hurt," she whispered, her voice trembling with maternal panic.
Her hand gently cupped my face, tilting it to the side with care. "What happened to you, Arche?"
I glanced to the side. "It's the guy over there," I said calmly, and nodded toward the source of my agony.
Valtherion.
The moment her eyes landed on him, her entire demeanor changed. Her soft expression vanished—replaced by something sharp and fiery.
Her jaw clenched, eyes narrowing like a storm was forming behind them.
"That guy… huh?" she muttered coldly.
Then—she charged.
"M-Mom?!"
Before I could stop her, she sprinted toward Valtherion like a bullet. The poor guy didn't even get a chance to react. One solid tackle sent him sprawling to the ground.
"What the—?!"
SMACK.
SMACK.
SMACK.
She straddled him and began raining fists on his face like she was settling a years-long debt.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SON?!"
SMACK.
"I TOLD YOU NEVER TO LAY A FINGER ON HIM AGAIN!"
SMACK.
SMACK.
"I-It was just a test!!" Valth cried out, shielding himself with both arms, already swelling from the onslaught.
"I swear! I wasn't trying to hurt him seriously! I—AAGH—STOP, I'M GONNA DIE!!"
His scream cracked like a kicked puppy's wail. It echoed across the chamber, pitiful, unmanly, desperate.
I stared in stunned silence. My jaw dropped slightly.
This... this was the same Valtherion who fought like a demon in every duel, who always walked with terrifying calm and cold eyes?
I blinked slowly.
Was that a squeal?
The living embodiment of mystery and strength—now begging for his life like a schoolkid being scolded by his parents?
"Unbelievable…" I murmured, torn between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment.
My mother's fury only intensified.
Her hands were still clenched into fists, her breath uneven as she towered over the man groaning on the ground.
"You hurt my son to test him?!" she snapped. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"
"I-It wasn't like that!" Valth stammered, waving his arms in surrender. "Come on, Iris! I tested him before, right? And you were fine with it—"
He froze mid-sentence, a flicker of a traumatic memory passing through his eyes like lightning.
"…Okay, yeah… you did almost kill me back then," he muttered, gulping.
"But—but this time's different! Arche's grown now! He's like, crazy strong! Strong like a dragon, right, Arche?" He flashed me a shaky grin, desperate for backup.
I met his eyes, deadpan. "Don't compare me to a dragon. I'm not a kid anymore."
Without missing a beat, I added dryly,
"Want me to throw you off this floor? Just think of it as atonement."
Mother chimed in coldly, arms crossed.
"No, no… that's too merciful. I should've prepared a tiger down there. Or a pack of wolves."
Valth immediately dropped into a deep bow so fast it nearly snapped his spine.
"I-I'm so sorry!! Please spare me!!"
I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose.
"Is this really the same Valtherion from five minutes ago…?"
The shift from smug war tactician to terrified punching bag was honestly... impressive.
Then, as if a switch had flipped, Mother turned to me with the softest smile.
"Anyway…" she said gently, "You must still have so many questions. And… I haven't had nearly enough time to hold you yet."
Her voice trembled at the end, but she kept smiling through it.
"Come, sweetheart. Let's talk properly."
She took my hand without waiting and began walking, leading me down the hallway.
I followed her silently, still taking it all in.
Eventually, we arrived at a room—neatly kept, warmly lit, and filled with a familiar sense of nostalgia.
I blinked.
There were framed photographs on the shelves—images of me as a toddler, a school-aged boy, even one with chocolate all over my face. All perfectly arranged. Dustless. Loved.
So this… was my mother's room.
"You live in a place like this?" I asked, scanning the space with a strange tightness in my chest.
"It's not much," she said softly, "but it's mine. Yours, too… always."
Then her eyes moved to my face again, and her hand lifted hesitantly.
"What about your wound, sweetheart? Are you… alright?" Her fingertips hovered near my cheek, trembling—wanting to touch, but afraid to cause pain.
I shook my head lightly. "It's okay."
Reaching into my cloak, I pulled out a small glass vial and popped the cork. A soft, herbal scent drifted out.
I downed the healing potion in one smooth motion. A warm light ran through me, closing the cuts, easing the ache.
I gave her a small smile. "See? I'm fine."
"Arche…"
My mother's voice trembled—barely above a whisper. Like speaking my name out loud would cause it all to vanish.
"I'm here, Mom." I nodded slowly, giving her a faint smile.
And then—without warning—she lunged at me.
Like a force of nature fueled by years of longing, she wrapped her arms around me with all the strength of a mother who'd once believed her son lost forever.
Her body shook against mine, and I felt her tears even before I heard her sob.
"Arche… I still can't believe this is real… that I'm holding you again."
Her voice cracked between every breath, heavy with emotions she'd buried for far too long.
"Every day… I prayed for you. That wherever you were, you'd be safe. That even if we never met again… you'd be happy. Today, tomorrow, and always."
I rested my forehead gently against hers.
"At first, I didn't think we'd ever meet again either… But the moment I learned you were alive—and where to find you—I knew. I had to come."
We lay down together on the bed, side by side. It wasn't much, but in this fragile stillness… it felt like the world had stopped just for us.
She held me tighter, like she was afraid I'd disappear again if she blinked.
Tears spilled from her eyes once more. "I thought I'd lost you forever... but you came. You came to find me."
Then, slowly, she shifted—gently pulling me close, resting her head against my chest. Her fingers clutched at my cloak like a child clinging to a lullaby.
"You've grown up so well…" she whispered, almost dreamily. "Your voice… your warmth… Everything about you reminds me of him."
I fell silent. The image of my father drifted into my mind—his laughter, his strength, his sacrifice.
And then—
"He…" I hesitated. "…Do you know?"
"I know," she said softly.
She lifted her head and sat upright on the edge of the bed, her shoulders still trembling.
I joined her there, the room heavy with memories neither of us could quite hold nor release.
"When I tried to return to Aelcrest… even if just to catch a glimpse of you…"
She looked down at her hands, clutching them tightly in her lap.
"I saw his grave."
A silence passed between us. Not empty—just full of everything we didn't need to say.
"You were the one who made it, weren't you?" she asked, her voice barely holding steady.
"You placed the flowers. You chose the words. You made sure he was remembered."
"You're a good kid, Arche… a wonderful son."
I shook my head. "No… I just did what any child should do."
But even as I said that, her hand found mine—warm, worn, and still trembling.
"…You did more than that," she whispered. "You kept going. Even when the world didn't deserve your kindness."
"You're exaggerating again, Mom," I said with a soft chuckle, trying to keep the moment light. "Just like always."
But the smile didn't last long.
"…But yeah. When Dad left… that's when the hunger began. There was no one to cook for me anymore. No one to ask if I'd eaten. No one who even noticed."
My voice, which had been carrying a faint trace of humor, faltered—softening into something heavier.
"I got used to it, eventually."
My gaze slipped toward the floor. The past crept up like a shadow stretching long behind me.
"Sometimes, I'd sneak a look through the windows of other people's houses. Just to see them gathered at the table… eating dinner together. Laughing. Sharing stories about their day."
A dry lump caught in my throat.
"Honestly… I was jealous."
Those warm lights spilling out of the windows. The gentle clink of cutlery. A parent's voice calling a child's name with a smile. All of it—sounds I could only press my forehead against the glass to hear.
"There's something about that kind of happiness," I murmured. "The kind built on love, on presence. It makes the whole house feel alive."
I hesitated, the words snagging before they could leave me. "…So I tried to forget. Anything I could. It didn't matter what I did, as long as it let me forget."
My hands trembled faintly in my lap.
"But when I finally began to understand—what love really means… what warmth actually feels like…"
A shaky breath escaped, unsteady and raw.
"…That's when it hurt even more."
Each word cut on its way out, sharp enough to bleed.
"The more I understood what I'd been missing… the deeper the wound became. And I realized—just how much I'd never had."
My lips pressed into a thin line as I lowered my head. "Not since the streets became my only home."
Silence followed.
A long, quiet pause filled the room—heavy with everything I'd said and everything she now carried in her heart.
Then, gently, I felt her hand take mine.
Warm. Fragile. Unshakably human.
"I never wanted this for you, Arche…" she said at last, her voice a whisper wrapped in regret. "Not any of it."
Her grip tightened just enough for me to feel the years in it. The longing. The sorrow. The mother who had never stopped aching.
"I'm sorry… so sorry…" Her voice cracked, tears returning to her eyes.
"For not being there. For not protecting you when you needed me the most…"
"I should've been there," she whispered. "I should've fought harder… found you sooner…"
And though the pain remained, I didn't pull away.
"It's okay…" I murmured.
My fingers curled slightly around hers.
"…But there's something I want to ask you."
My mother turned to me, the tenderness in her eyes returning at once. "What is it, sweetheart?" she asked gently, her voice barely above a breath.
She gave my hand a soft squeeze—an unspoken gesture that said, whatever it is, I'm here.
I hesitated for a moment.
"…Why did you say, 'I wish I never gave birth to him,' that day you left the house?"
The words hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.
Her eyes widened instantly. The color drained from her face, as if I had reopened a wound she had tried so hard to bury.
She didn't think I'd remember.
But I did. Every word. Every echo of it. Etched into my heart like a scar that never faded.
Her grip on my hand tightened—for just a second. Not enough to hurt, but enough to reveal the storm she was holding inside.
Slowly, her gaze dropped to our joined hands, as if the answer was hidden between our palms.
"…Arche," she finally whispered.
Her voice was fragile, quivering with the weight of old regret. "That day… I said those words because I knew what kind of life you'd have. I saw it coming."
She took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening.
"I heard what you went through. The streets. The starvation. The abuse. Being made a slave…" Her voice broke slightly, and she looked away.
"When I heard about it all—I couldn't bear it. I hated the world. And I hated myself even more."
She wiped her cheek, though more tears followed instantly.
"If you had never been born… then maybe—just maybe—you wouldn't have suffered like that."
The room fell quiet. But not empty.
Her words echoed inside me, reshaping everything I thought I knew about that one moment in my childhood.
So that was it.
Not hate.
Not rejection.
It was pain.
A mother's helpless pain.
I sat there, stunned—not because of what she said just now, but because of what it meant.
She did love me.
She always had.
Even in that moment, when I thought she'd cast me aside—she was just breaking under the weight of a world that hurt too much to watch.
"…I didn't know," I said quietly.
She looked up at me again, eyes red and full of sorrow. "I never stopped loving you, Arche. Never. Not for a single day."
"Then…" My voice trembled as frustration welled up inside me.
"Why are you even in this organization?! Why weren't you at home—with me and Dad?!"
The words came out louder than I intended, sharp and raw.
My mother flinched slightly—not in fear, but as if my voice had struck a part of her she had long tried to keep hidden.
"…It's complicated, Arche," she said quietly, her voice heavy with regret. "More than you know."
She took a breath—a shallow, trembling inhale—before her hand tightened around mine, grounding herself in the moment.
"They forced me," she continued. "The people behind this organization… they gave me a choice. Join them—or they'd hurt your father and you."
I blinked.
That kind of threat. That kind of fear. I couldn't even begin to imagine it.
"But… you two are strong, right?!" I snapped, my voice rising again.
"Dad was a bounty hunter! And you—you are Zero One! You could've stopped them. You could've fought back!"
There was silence.
Her expression didn't change. It didn't harden or crumble.
Instead, it softened—achingly so. And then she looked at me with the eyes of someone who had carried too many burdens for far too long.
"Arche," she said gently, "you didn't come here alone, did you? You had a team. People who had your back."
I froze.
"You're not fighting alone… but we were," she said softly. "Unlike you… we had a child to protect. We had to choose—stand tall, or keep you alive."
She smiled faintly. It wasn't happy—it was tired. Wounded. Honest.
"It's not as easy as you think."
Her words pierced through the wall of my pride, leaving behind nothing but guilt.
I felt my breath catch in my throat.
My anger, my assumptions—they all crumbled in an instant.
"S-Sorry…" I muttered, lowering my gaze. "I didn't mean to push you like that…"
But she shook her head before I could say more, lifting her hand to gently brush a strand of hair from my face.
"There's no need to apologize, Arche," she said softly. "You have every right to be angry."
"I left. I couldn't explain anything back then. And you… you suffered because of it."
She smiled gently, her fingers giving mine a comforting squeeze.
For a brief moment, everything felt still again. Warm. Familiar.
But then her eyes shifted—drawn to the small chain around my neck, peeking out from under my collar.
"That necklace…" she murmured, almost to herself.
I blinked, then smiled faintly. "Oh, this?" I reached under my clothes and pulled it out, revealing the pendant resting against my chest.
She leaned in slightly, curious.
I held it up for her to see—a small pendant of deep blue lapis lazuli, smooth and gleaming in the light.
With a soft click, I opened it.
Inside were two photos, side by side, pressed tightly together like they belonged in the same story.
One was of her. My mother, smiling on a sunny day long past.
And the other…
"She…" I whispered, smiling without realizing it.
Her gaze flicked to the second photo—and her brows furrowed.
"Victorica?" she asked, like the face stirred something distant in her memory.
I tilted my head slightly, confusion flickering across my face.
"Who?" I repeated, before my lips curved into a faint smile. "Elaina. That's her name… the woman I love."
My mother froze for a second. Then, slowly, her expression morphed—into something playful, almost teasing.
"A girlfriend, huh?" she said, the corner of her mouth curling upward. A glint of mischief danced in her eyes.
"How interesting."
Her grip on my hand loosened as she leaned back just a little, tilting her head.
"And you even carry her picture with you? How sweet."
I rolled my eyes lightly. "We're not dating, anyway…"
I looked down at the pendant again, my voice quieter now.
"One of the reasons I started all this—this fight—was to protect her country."
"To make sure it wouldn't fall to the same darkness that took everything from us."
I ran my thumb across the photo of her face.
"That's why I kept this photo—of you and her. Because you're the reason I fought. Both of you."
The teasing faded from her eyes, replaced by something far deeper. She reached out again, brushing her fingers gently over the pendant, then to my face.
"Oh, Arche…" she whispered, her voice full of warmth.
"You've grown to be so… kind."
There was pride in her words, but also sorrow—like she mourned every moment she hadn't been there to witness that growth.
"To fight for someone else's happiness… even after all the pain you've carried alone…"
Her voice trailed off.
And I… couldn't speak.
Something had caught in my throat, burning and tight, refusing to be swallowed.
I clenched my jaw.
I had to hold it in. I had to.
But then—
"You can cry," she said softly, as her hand cupped my cheek. "I'm your mother. You don't have to be strong with me."
I trembled.
Her words, her warmth, her presence—they all struck something deep within me, something buried far too long beneath pride and silence.
"I could never forgive myself, Mom…" My voice cracked into a whisper, trembling as if the words themselves resisted leaving my lips.
"If I truly understood… the depth of your prayers—those quiet, desperate whispers you offered for me every single day, even as I kept sinking deeper into the dark…"
I lowered my gaze to my hands. Scarred. Calloused. Not the marks of honest labor, but of clawing at survival.
"…The reality of my life strayed so far from the dreams you once carried for me."
There was no anger left—only sorrow that hollowed out my voice, and exhaustion that clung to every syllable.
"Please… embrace my weary soul, Mom," I begged, forcing the words through a throat heavy with grief. "It's been wounded too long… crushed under the weight of this world."
My fingers curled inward, frail and desperate, as if they could hide the weakness I had never wanted to show.
"Only your love can protect this heart… this fragile heart that was never as strong as yours."
I turned toward her. I couldn't bear to meet her eyes, yet I craved her closeness all the same.
"Please… hold this small heart—stained with resentment, trembling with fear… and show it the way to let go."
My voice faltered into silence. Then, almost like a prayer carried by the faintest breath—
"…Teach me… how to let go of hatred."
"…Please…"
I couldn't hold it anymore.
Tears spilled freely from my eyes, blurring my vision, breaking the dam I had built inside myself for years.
But this time—this time, I didn't hide it.
The woman before me wasn't a dream.
She wasn't a ghost or a trick or a cruel illusion.
She was real.
She was Iris.
She was my mother.
And she was here.
I felt her grip tighten around my hand once more. Warm. Steady. Trembling with emotion.
Tears welled up in her own eyes as she looked at me—not with pity, but with the kind of love that could weather the world itself.
"Oh, Arche…" she whispered, her voice soft and full of ache.
Her hand moved to my cheek, brushing away a tear as her own spilled freely.
"No matter how strong you've become… you'll always be my little boy. Always."
Her embrace found me again. Gentle. Familiar. And in her arms, I didn't hold back.
I didn't sob like I once did, in that strange land where wishes came true and grief disguised itself as hope.
I didn't cry like a child.
I cried as someone who had wandered through darkness—and had finally come home.
I cried because I was no longer alone.
I cried because… I was happy.
After a while, I slowly pulled away from the embrace.
My chest still ached, but the heaviness I'd been carrying for so long had lightened, like the weight of years was finally allowed to breathe.
I wiped my tears away with the back of my hand. A faint smile formed on my lips.
"Thanks, Mom…"
She returned the smile, gentle and proud. Her eyes were still glistening, but now they held only warmth.
"You're welcome, Arche."
"Feeling better now?" she asked, her voice as soft as a lullaby, a sound that once used to guide me to sleep long ago.
Then she reached out and ruffled my hair—exactly like she used to when I was small.
The same hand, the same touch. Like nothing had changed.
And for a fleeting second… I felt like that boy again.
But the moment was short-lived.
A voice cut through the stillness.
"I hate to interrupt this touching little reunion, but there's a story Arche needs to hear."
I turned toward the voice.
Valtherion stood leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, that ever—smug smirk on his face.
My mother groaned and rolled her eyes so hard it was almost theatrical.
"Ugh. You can't ever let anyone have a peaceful moment, can you, Father?"
Wait.
Father?
I blinked.
"…Huh?" My voice cracked slightly. "F-Father…?"
I stared between them, completely blindsided.
My mother let out a long, exasperated sigh, brushing a hand through her hair like she was suddenly tired of everything.
She looked at me, voice dripping with reluctant acceptance. "Yes. That moron of a man is your… grandfather."
I turned to Valth, eyes wide, brain refusing to connect the dots.
His grin widened as he lifted one eyebrow, clearly enjoying my stunned expression.
"…Biologically?" I asked, cautiously.
My mother's annoyance faded. Her eyes softened again, but this time with honesty—not frustration.
"Biologically… no."
The confusion didn't quite go away, but it shifted—into curiosity.
Valth finally moved, dragging a nearby chair and turning it around before sitting down on it backwards, resting his arms on the backrest.
"Well," he said with a smirk, "now that I have your attention…"
His gaze met mine—less arrogant now, more serious. "It's my turn to tell the story."
Long ago, before titles and reputations, Valtherion was just a nameless wanderer.
He had no family. No home. No dream to follow. Only empty roads, cold nights, and a growing void in his heart.
He drifted through life without purpose, simply existing from one town to the next—until one fateful day, when he met a man who extended a hand toward him and said:
"How would you like to help change the world?"
That man's name… was DEATH.
To Valth—lost and directionless—the words were like a flame in the darkness.
He was tired. Tired of wandering.
Tired of watching the world crumble under greed, pain, and lawlessness.
DEATH spoke of a world free from crime. A world purified from the rot of corruption. A world where no child had to suffer the way Valth once did.
And so, Valth accepted.
Under DEATH's guidance, he began cultivating his talents—his mind becoming a weapon of precision.
He delved into science, experimented with potions, devoured ancient knowledge.
He built, he refined, he innovated.
DEATH supported him, pushing him further. And together, they began gathering others—those with potential, those disillusioned by the broken state of the world.
From this gathering, they forged a name that would one day terrify the world:
Lunar Ascendance.
What began as a mission of hope soon grew into something much darker.
For years, Valth worked by DEATH's side, believing in their shared dream—until one day, he discovered the truth.
DEATH never wanted to cleanse the world.
He wanted to reset it.
Burn it to ash.
His plan wasn't to cure crime, but to eradicate humanity itself. To judge it unworthy, and reduce it to rubble.
Only the "worthy"—those he deemed fit—would be spared. They would rebuild civilization under his rule.
And in this new world, there would be no freedom. No choice. Only obedience.
DEATH would be its god. And the age of humanity… would be over.
Valth was devastated.
Everything he had worked for—every invention, every experiment—had been a tool for destruction.
He couldn't stand by.
But DEATH was powerful—too powerful.
And the others… they were either loyal, or too afraid to rebel.
Even whispering of betrayal could mean death.
So Valth chose a different path.
He began the Human Perfection Experiment in secret.
He would search for gifted children, hidden across the world—those with rare potential.
He would train them, push them, raise them to be humanity's shield against DEATH.
A future generation, shaped not by gods… but by will.
Because if he couldn't stop DEATH alone, then he would create the ones who could.
These children, these chosen few—
They would be humanity's last hope.
Valth knew he couldn't let DEATH find out the true purpose behind the Human Perfection Experiment.
So he framed it carefully: a long-term plan to strengthen the organization from within.
The next generation of elite warriors, forged under the name of Lunar Ascendance.
DEATH approved the idea without suspicion.
And with that, Valtherion began his true mission.
He traveled across borders and oceans, studied countless bloodlines and magical phenomena, searching for that one spark—that one anomaly in the chaos of humanity who could become… something more.
Until one quiet afternoon, in a small, peaceful country, he found himself sitting alone on a bench in a park.
The sky was overcast, the wind gentle. But his thoughts were stormy.
What does "perfection" mean in a human form? What makes a soul capable of standing against godhood itself?
He was deep in thought when something lightly poked his arm.
"…?"
He turned quickly, instinctively on edge.
Beside him stood a girl. No older than seven.
Her hair was a soft shade of amethyst, falling gently past her shoulders. Her golden-yellow eyes sparkled with curiosity.
There was no hesitation in her gaze—just cheerful mischief.
"Sir! You look really confused!" she said brightly. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Valth stared.
She beamed.
"I've lived in this country for a quite a long time, y'know! I can guide you anywhere!"
"Are you looking for the best sweets shop?! Because I definitely know the best one!"
Valth blinked again, completely thrown off. He wasn't used to being approached like this—especially not by strangers. And especially not by kids.
"…Has no one ever told you not to talk to random people?" he asked softly, his tone gentle but tired.
The girl tilted her head, grinning. "Yeah! But you don't look scary."
"You look like you're in your twenties and pretty handsome, so it's fine!" she said without shame.
Valth blinked again.
"…What?"
He stared at her in disbelief before letting out a short chuckle—one of the first in a long time.
"What's your name, kid?"
She looked like she was about to answer—but something caught her attention. Purple flowers blooming just nearby. Her eyes lit up.
"Guess it!" she shouted, running over and striking a pose beside the blossoms.
Valth stared at her, baffled by her energy.
"…Iris?" he guessed.
She giggled, nodding excitedly. "That's right! I'm Iris!"
She bounded back to him, eyes sparkling.
"And you? What's your name, mister?"
"Valtherion," he replied, folding his arms.
"I—Vaterlion?" she scrunched her nose, squinting as if the name physically tangled her tongue. "That's too long!"
Valth groaned. "Ugh… just call me Valth."
And from that moment, something shifted.
"So, Iris…" Valth glanced down at the girl beside him as they sat together beneath the gentle sway of trees.
"How did you suddenly appear next to me without me noticing at all?"
She puffed out her cheeks, proud of herself. "I've been practicing how to walk really, really quietly!"
"So I can sneak out of the orphanage and go play without anyone noticing!"
Valth blinked. He wasn't sure whether to be impressed or mildly concerned.
"And your parents?" he asked gently, voice lowering just a bit.
There was a brief pause. Her cheerful expression wavered, just slightly.
"Ah… my parents died," she said simply. "There was a big flood. It destroyed our town."
She looked up at the sky, squinting as if trying to remember more.
"I don't remember much after that… just that I ended up here, in this country. I live at the orphanage now."
Valth looked at her, surprised by how lightly she spoke of something so heavy. The way she smiled despite the weight in her words… It stirred something in him.
A strange silence passed between them.
Then, slowly, he spoke.
"…Hey, Iris."
"Yeah?" she looked up at him, curious.
"Do you want to come with me?"
Her golden eyes lit up, wide with surprise. "Really?!" she asked, voice already bubbling with excitement. "You mean it?!"
Valth nodded, his expression calm—but his voice carried a quiet conviction.
"Yeah. I want to take you away from the orphanage."
He stood from the bench, brushing off his coat. "I want to adopt you."
Her mouth fell open, her heart pounding.
For a second, she just stared at him, blinking, as if trying to figure out whether this was a dream.
"Wait… really really?" she asked, voice trembling slightly. "You want to adopt me?"
Valth gave a faint smile, rare and quiet.
"I'll come back tomorrow morning. We'll go together."
Iris didn't respond at first.
Then she burst into a smile—radiant, pure, hopeful. The kind of smile that could pierce through years of loneliness.
"Okay!" she said, beaming. "I'll be waiting! Promise you'll come!"
He gave her a nod as he turned to leave, his crimson coat billowing softly in the breeze.
From that moment on, Valth moved quickly.
He took care of all the necessary paperwork with an efficiency born from both desperation and determination.
No more hesitation. No more wandering. For once, he had something—someone—to protect.
And soon after, the two of them sat side by side in a horse-drawn carriage, the soft rattle of wheels accompanying the gentle rhythm of travel.
Beside him, Iris had fallen asleep.
Her head rested against his arm, her breathing slow and peaceful. Her hand loosely held the hem of his coat, as if afraid he might vanish in her dreams.
Valth glanced down at her and exhaled slowly. A quiet warmth stirred in his chest. Strange, unfamiliar—but not unwelcome.
Eventually, they arrived in a quiet, remote country—far from the prying eyes of Lunar Ascendance.
Here, Valth would begin his secret work.
Not under DEATH's watchful gaze. Not among the shadows of that cursed organization.
Here, he would start something pure.
The place he had prepared was hidden in the mountains, a facility filled with machines, tools, and equipment that no ordinary eye would understand.
Everything gleamed with purpose—untouched, unfinished.
The girl stepped inside, her eyes going wide as she took in the sight.
"…Whoa…" she breathed. "What is all of this?"
Her gaze darted from device to device, glowing tubes, arcane circuitry, half-assembled prototypes and chalkboards filled with symbols.
Valth watched her reaction for a moment, then walked past her, placing a hand on a large console.
"Welcome," he said with a small grin.
"Zero One."
She turned to him with a puzzled look.
"…Zero One?"
"It's your code name," Valth said, like it was obvious. He didn't elaborate at first, waiting.
"A code name?" she blinked. "For me?"
She pointed to herself in disbelief.
Valth nodded as he sat down, folding one leg over the other "Yep."
"…Why Zero One?"
He looked at her calmly. Then, casually—
"Because it sounds cool."
There was a beat of silence.
Then she burst out laughing. "That's your reason?! Seriously?!"
Valth smirked. "You got a better one?"
She crossed her arms playfully. "Nope. I guess I'm Zero One now."
And from that day forward, the poor, nameless girl began a new life.
She trained. She learned. She grew.
Valth pushed her hard—relentlessly at times—but never cruelly. He taught her not just to be strong, but to be sharp, to be precise. To endure.
But even as he built her into something powerful, he held back just enough—because somewhere along the way, she had become more than a project.
To him… she had become a daughter.
His daughter.
In the present, Valth's voice rang with pride as he finished that part of the story.
"She is my proud daughter!" he declared, raising his chin dramatically.
I turned to look at my mother beside me—Her face flushed red as she waved her hand at him furiously.
"Shut up and just continue the story already!" she shouted, hiding her embarrassment with outrage.
Valth chuckled, leaning back in his chair.
Somewhere, behind all that sarcasm and sass, there was the glint of affection that hadn't faded with time.
And I…
I was stunned.
I never imagined that Valtherion, the cold, unpredictable man I knew, had loved my mother that deeply. That earnestly.
It was a truth that caught me completely off guard—one that cracked the walls I'd built around my understanding of him.
But their time together didn't last unchanged.
As my mother grew into her teenage years, Valth began to notice something. A small but growing absence in her life.
"…You've never gone to school, have you?" he asked her one evening.
At first, she denied it. Then avoided the question. But Valth had always been observant. He knew.
So, he insisted she enroll in an academy—not just any school, but one of the most elite and prestigious institutions in the region: Feohtere Academy.
My mother had hesitated. She didn't want to leave Valth alone. Despite everything, they had grown close.
She saw him not just as a mentor, but as something akin to a father.
But in the end… she agreed.
And so, she went.
The day she left, Valth stood alone in the entrance of their hidden facility—watching the carriage disappear into the misty woods, the wind playing softly through his long coat.
The silence that followed was louder than any machine he could build.
In that quiet, Valth turned back to his work.
He threw himself into his projects—designing tools, potions, mechanisms to offer the organization, just enough to keep suspicion away. But the emptiness lingered.
Time passed. Slowly, steadily, inevitably.
And with it came a creeping realization:
He was lonely. More than lonely. He was hollow.
And so…
He crossed a line.
Driven by a need to fill the void, Valth kidnapped two homeless children—orphans with nowhere to go, and no one who would miss them.
A girl and a boy.
He gave them no names. Only numbers.
Zero Two. Zero Three.
They were only two years apart in age, but something about their bond was unbreakable—like they were siblings, bound by something deeper than blood.
Valth trained them both, just as he had trained Iris.
But with a colder hand.
He did not make the same mistake. He didn't allow himself to grow *too* attached.
Still, one part of him wondered:
Could she—Zero Two—surpass the original?
Could she match, or even defeat, Iris?
To find out, he sent Zero Two to Feohtere Academy. As a "transfer student."
A silent blade in disguise.
Her name… was Savina.
Savina eventually faced off against my mother. Alongside my father and their friends, the clash shook the very academy grounds.
It wasn't just a battle of strength. It was a battle of identities, of legacies colliding.
And at the peak of that fateful encounter—disaster struck.
Both my mother and Savina found themselves clinging to the edge of a ravine, struggling not to fall into the abyss below.
The rocks were crumbling. Time was running out. My father rushed to help them both—desperate, straining to pull them back.
But the weight was too much. One would fall if no one let go.
And Savina knew.
She looked up, smiling faintly through blood and exhaustion.
Then, she let go.
She fell into the ravine—vanishing into the mist.
My mother never cried.
She never mourned.
Because Valtherion had once told her:
"Everyone leaves. One day or another."
That lesson had carved itself into her soul.
Zero Three had once believed in something. Someone.
To him, Zero Two wasn't just another experiment. She was family. A sister—not by blood, but by bond.
She had smiled when he cried. Shared her bread when he was hungry.
Held his hand when nightmares whispered through the dark.
And now… she was gone.
All that remained was silence. And a name.
Iris.
The one responsible—at least in his mind.
The moment he learned of her death, his heart shattered. The grief twisted into fury, and the boy who had once clung to hope chose instead to be consumed by vengeance.
He threw himself into training. Into pain.
If tears could bring her back, he would've wept oceans. But instead… he sharpened himself into a blade.
All while Iris—my mother—continued her life far away, unaware of the storm that brewed in the distance.
At Feohtere Academy, she thrived.
She made friends. She laughed again. And for a moment, it felt like she was just a normal girl in a normal world—far removed from the shadowed origins of her past.
When graduation came, she stood with pride. Her smile was calm. Content.
And then… Valtherion came to retrieve her.
Just like that, her freedom ended.
Back to the organization. Back to the cold.
But what Iris didn't know… was that Valth had already set something else in motion.
He had ordered Zero Three—now a young man, tempered and deadly—to travel.
To wander the world in search of her. Officially, it was to "find" her if she went missing.
But the truth was simpler.
Valth needed him far away. Because if Ezekiel—Zero Three—discovered the extent of Iris's freedom, he would try to eliminate her.
And Valth couldn't risk that.
But someone else also knew the truth.
My father.
He couldn't accept it. Wouldn't allow Iris to be trapped in that place again.
So he came—charging into the heart of the organization with only two allies by his side:
Aldric And Rufina.
They didn't come to negotiate.
They came to bring Iris home.
The alarm rang through the halls of the facility. Magic clashed with steel.
And Valth—ever the tactician—descended from his tower to intercept the intruders.
He brought Iris with him.
Not because he wanted her to fight… But because he knew how badly this could end.
And then… my father and Valth stood face to face.
They clashed—two titans bound by love for the same woman. Father's fists burned with resolve.
Valth's precision, razor-sharp.
But my father was outmatched.
He couldn't win. Not alone.
Just as he staggered—on the verge of collapse—Iris stepped between them.
Without hesitation, she turned her back to Valth… and stood beside the man she loved.
Richard and Iris. Together again.
They fought side by side.
And Valth… could not bring himself to hurt her.
So, he surrendered.
Not because he was weak. But because his heart… still remembered the girl who called him "Dad."
In the present day, I blinked in disbelief as the story ended.
"That idiot came here with only three people," Valth muttered, arms crossed. "He's even more reckless than you, Arche."
I turned to my mother, stunned. "…Wait, you mean—?"
She smiled softly, her fingers brushing my cheek. "You did the same thing he did," she said, her voice gentle. "You came to save the woman you love."
I froze.
No words could come out of my mouth. Only the sound of my heart beating wildly in my chest.
Valth sighed, his voice pulling me back.
"…Alright, alright. I'll continue the story. Just don't cry again, or I'll charge you emotional damage."
After surrendering to them that day, Valtherion quietly stepped aside.
He let his daughter, Iris, walk away—hand in hand with the man who had risked everything to save her.
With Richard, my father.
They returned to his home, far away from the shadows of the organization.
And for a while… life was kind.
Richard became a bounty hunter—not for glory, but for purpose. He found meaning in chasing down the wicked, bringing justice to the lawless.
It paid well enough. It was dangerous, yes, but it felt right.
And Iris… she stood beside him—as his partner, the one who always supports him.
Their bond grew deeper with every scar, every night spent tracing stars from rooftops, every morning they shared coffee as sunlight crept through cracked windows.
But one day, they were separated.
And fate—that ever-twisting force—guided them back to one another.
And not long after… they married.
It was quiet. Intimate. No grand celebration, just the warmth of two broken souls finding peace in each other.
Then came their son.
Me.
For the first few years, we lived as a real family. Laughter echoed in our small home.
My mother's humming filled the kitchen. My father's boots thudded against the floor when he returned from work.
It was… perfect.
And fleeting.
Far away, in a fortress of steel and secrets, Valtherion watched it all unfold.
The countdown to DEATH's plan—the reset of the world—was nearing its end.
And Valth… was terrified.
He had tried to make the perfect weapon.
He had tried to save the world his way.
But now, his time was running out.
While Iris had been living a peaceful life—falling in love, becoming a mother—Valth had been calculating the future.
Preparing the next phase. The next child. The one who would surpass even Zero One.
The one who could kill DEATH.
But there was one problem.
It might fail.
He needed Iris back just in case.
So he did the unthinkable.
He reached out from the shadows and delivered a message.
A demand.
Return to the organization.
Be retrained. Prepare.
Because when the world begins again… I will need you.
And then, the threat:
If you refuse… I will attack Aelcrest.
Your husband will die. Your son… will be taken.
It was cruel. Desperate.
But Valth wasn't bluffing.
And Iris… had no choice.
With a trembling heart and a forced farewell, she left the home she had built with her own hands.
She left my father.
She left me.
And she walked back into the darkness…
…so that one day, maybe, she could protect the light.
Hearing his words, something inside me snapped. "So in short..." I muttered, my voice low and trembling. "...you're a jerk."
Valtherion didn't flinch. Didn't argue.
He simply nodded.
"Yes."
That single word—so casual, so shameless—ignited every buried flame in me.
I stood up, fists clenched, and grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground.
My voice exploded like thunder.
"BECAUSE OF YOU, I HAVE THIS LIFE!"
My eyes burned. My chest heaved. My grip tightened. I didn't even care anymore who he was.
"Do you have any idea what kind of person you turned me into?! What you stole from me?! I never wanted to be a weapon, or some damned chosen one!"
"I just... I just wanted to be a normal guy," I spat through clenched teeth. "Maybe work at a café. Serve parfaits. Complain about tips. Be ordinary."
But Valth didn't resist. Didn't fight back. His crimson eyes met mine calmly.
And then he said something I didn't expect. "Even so… you enjoy your life now, don't you?"
I froze.
He kept going.
"Helping people. Saving those you care about. Protecting the weak—even when it hurts you."
"Now, you're about to save the entire world. Tell me, Arche… would a waiter be able to do that?"
I gritted my teeth, my breath shaking.
"What I've done may not be for everyone," I answered, voice low. "But doing good? That's something anyone can do—if they have the heart to try."
Valth's smile faded.
"Can they?" he asked quietly. "Can everyone face what you've faced? Can they stare DEATH in the eyes and not falter?"
He leaned forward, his voice a whisper now. Cold. Honest.
"I chose you for a reason, Arche. You weren't born perfect. You were forged."
"No one else made it this far but you."
"Maybe someday someone else could take your place… But that day isn't today."
"Today—it's just you."
The weight of his words sank into my chest like iron.
My fists trembled. My heart thundered.
And then…
…I let him go.
Valth landed lightly, straightening his coat as if I hadn't just threatened to crush his windpipe.
He adjusted his cuffs, then extended his hand to me. His voice was firm. Steady.
"Help me defeat DEATH, Arche."
I stood in silence, letting the weight of everything settle in my chest.
My thoughts drifted…
To every scar I carried.
To every fall I endured.
To every hand that had reached out to pull me up.
I remembered the academy days—those laughter—filled halls and reckless dreams.
I remembered the fleeting warmth of comradeship from the days I lived as a thief.
And I remembered the long, quiet nights of repentance as a wanderer—just a sinner walking forward.
Their voices, their faces—they were all with me now. All the people who had helped me rise.
Slowly, I raised my head. The fire in my chest didn't burn with rage anymore.
It was something else now. Purpose, maybe. Hope, even.
I extended my hand toward the man before me—toward the one who had once shaped the darkest part of my past.
Valtherion.
"Yes… let's do it," I said, my voice steady.
Valth nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Good."
As I let go of his hand, I turned around—my eyes finding the figure that had always been there in my memories.
"Mom—"
But before I could say more, she reached up and gently placed her finger over my lips.
"Don't rush," she whispered with a smile.
She turned, crouching down beside the bed. From underneath, she carefully pulled out a small box wrapped in soft blue cloth.
She opened it, and inside…
A simple cake, worn by time but made with care. Candles flickered gently atop it, their flames dancing in the dim light.
I looked at the writing on the icing.
Happy 21st Birthday, Arche—My Beloved Son
My breath caught in my throat. I glanced to the wall—saw the glowing hands of the clock.
Midnight.
October 31st.
My birthday.
"I always bought a cake for you every year," my mother said softly, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Even when you weren't here. I'd celebrate quietly with Valth… and with Cerise."
Cerise…
"She's a kind girl," my mother continued. "I've been thinking of adopting her as your little sister."
Her eyes gleamed as she looked at me. "You said once, remember? That you wanted a younger sibling."
I blinked.
Had I?
That old memory… it felt distant, but somehow familiar. Maybe… that's why I always found myself acting like an older brother to Amnesia and Avilia. That gentle instinct. That need to protect.
I smiled faintly and nodded. "Yeah… maybe I did say that."
My mother chuckled, wiping her eyes before placing the cake between us.
"Then let's celebrate your birthday, Arche," she said. "For real, this time."
With a gentle smile, my mother drew her wand. A soft flick, a quiet spark—then warmth bloomed atop the candles as golden flames flickered gently in the dark.
And then, she began to sing.
"Happy birthday to you..."
"Happy birthday to you..."
"Happy birthday, my dear Arche..."
"Happy birthday to you..."
Her voice was soft and sweet, just like I remembered from long ago—echoing through the corners of my memory like an old lullaby.
I smiled, my chest tight with warmth.
"Make a wish," she said, her eyes glistening with quiet affection.
I nodded, closing my eyes.
I wish to win this war... and protect the people I love.
Then, with one steady breath, I blew out the candle.
A small applause echoed behind me—Valth, ever theatrical, clapping his hands with a sly grin.
I rolled my eyes but smiled faintly.
My mother set the cake gently on the table, drew a knife, and carefully cut a slice.
"Say 'ah'," she said playfully.
Before I could protest, she lifted the fork to my mouth, and I took a bite.
The moment it touched my tongue—
I froze.
"This taste…" I whispered. "It's the same. The same cake you used to make… back when we still lived together."
My mother chuckled, clearly pleased. "I've been practicing, just in case this day would come."
"It's perfect," I murmured.
She placed the rest of the cake on the table, then turned to clean the knife.
I reached into my coat and pulled something from my pocket—a faintly glowing gem, cut like crystal.
"Here," I said, placing it gently into her hand. "A teleportation stone."
She blinked in surprise.
"Keep it with you. If things get dangerous, don't hesitate—just run."
I tried to smile.
"Don't worry, I brought a lot."
My mother closed her fingers around the gem and nodded. "Alright. I'll keep it safe."
The warmth in the room was suddenly pierced by the sharp creak of the door.
I instinctively turned—and saw Zack barging in, breathing heavily, his eyes scanning the room like a beast seeking danger.
His eyes landed on Valth.
In one swift motion, he raised his knife and pointed it at the red-haired man.
"What the hell did you do to him?! Are you okay, Arche?!"
"Zack, calm down," I said, lifting a hand. "I'm fine."
There was a long pause.
Zack looked between me, Valth, and the dimly lit room. Slowly, he lowered his blade.
His eyes moved to the woman standing near the table, and his tense expression softened.
"Mrs. Iris…? Are you alright?"
My mother smiled—tender and familiar. "I'm fine, Zack. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
I blinked, stunned. "Wait… You two know each other?"
"In short," my mother said with a soft smile, "he's your father's student, you know."
I blinked. "Wait—What? Why didn't you tell me that?!"
Zack scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Mrs. Iris asked me not to. I was just... keeping an eye on you. Supporting you from the shadows while you lived as a thief."
His words hit me like a quiet wave.
"…Because your mother asked me to."
I opened my mouth to reply, but then sighed, the weight of urgency returning to my shoulders.
"There's a lot I want to ask—but I don't have the time right now." I turned to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Zack, I'm entrusting my mother to you. Keep her safe."
"Arche, wait—I want to fight too—"
"No," I cut him off, my tone calm but resolute. "You just came out of a battle, and I know you're still exhausted. Just stay here… and protect her."
I shifted my gaze toward my mother before she could speak. "And you, Mom… you can't come either."
Her smile faltered slightly, already reading the resistance in my eyes.
"I came here to save you, not to bring you back into the fire."
There was a long pause.
Then she chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Are you reading my mind now, Arche?"
I shook my head, smiling faintly. "No… it's just a son's instinct. One that always knows what his mother's about to say."
Her hands trembled slightly as she reached up and gently cupped my face.
And then—She kissed my forehead.
It was soft, tender, fleeting… but in that kiss, I felt it all.
Her blessing.
Her prayer.
Her unspoken plea that I come back alive.
"It's showtime, isn't it?" she asked, her smile trembling but brave.
I nodded, stepping back. "Yeah… it's time."
Valth opened the door. I took a step forward.
But then—
"Arche!"
Her voice—shaky, desperate—called out from behind.
I turned, catching her gaze one last time.
She looked at me—not as a warrior, not as a mage, not as a legend-in-the-making—but simply as a boy she once held in her arms.
"I love you, my son. No matter what happens out there… to me, you've already become the hero I always believed you'd be."
For a moment, time stood still.
My throat tightened. My heart beat louder than ever.
I smiled—not with arrogance, but with all the love she'd poured into me.
"Then I'll make sure the world sees me the same way you do, Mom."
I turned my back on her.
"I'm off."
With that final word, I stepped into the corridor with Valth, heading toward the last floor of the big palace.
Toward the final battle.
To end it.
Once and for all.
Back in that quiet room, Zack watched the door where I had disappeared, a faint smile still tugging at his lips.
"He's… a great man, isn't he?" he said, voice low and reverent.
My mother—still holding the remnants of the birthday cake—nodded slowly, her eyes misty with pride.
"Yes… because he is my and Richie's son ."
There was peace in that room now. But elsewhere, where the light couldn't reach—
—I stood on the final staircase, one hand on the cold steel railing, heart pounding like a war drum inside my chest.
No more detours.
No more hiding.
Only one path left—straight into the jaws of fate.
"Let's showtime!" Valth suddenly grinned, throwing his fist toward me with childlike excitement.
I stared at him.
"Shut up."
"What? Want to fight again?" he grumbled, still holding his fist in the air.
"You're so damn rude to your grandfather, Arche… and that's called a bump fist, okay?" he added with a mock glare.
"Not interested," I replied coolly, walking past him.
Valth chuckled, finally lowering his hand. "Well… we don't have time for jokes now, do we?"
I didn't answer.
My footsteps echoed as we ascended. The stairs creaked beneath our weight, like the world holding its breath.
I never imagined I'd one day walk side-by-side with a man named Valtherion.
A man I once hated. A man I once blamed for everything.
But now—
I no longer have the luxury of hatred.
This was the last chance.
To change the ending.
To protect the people I love.
To fulfill the promise I made to myself… and to her.
So I kept walking, head held high.
Not as an experiment.
Not as a thief.
Not as a wanderer.
But as Arche.
The one who would bring this war to its end.