Once again, I find myself standing before a door: Mahogany wood, eight feet tall, five feet wide.
The first time I was here, my heart was beating faster than a Formula One race car; clear as day, I remember it.
Raising my hand, I gently knock on the door.
"Come in," a familiar voice—deep and resonant—sounds from the other end.
I grab the golden knob, ease out a silent sigh, and twist it gently as I enter, muttering in my heart, "Time to act."
A familiar, yet an unfamiliar, sight greets me; an odd feeling, it's my first time here, but I feel reasonably familiar with the room. Not the first time I feel this way: the old Kyselius' memories aren't just mere memories after all, but instinct... emotions, perhaps.
Walls embedded with crimson gemstones, with portraits of different individuals, adding a historical charm to the space; the chandelier above sculpted into a fire-breathing dragon, and the same could be said for the carpet on the floor.
Two couches lay face to face, between them a glass top coffee table; further down the lane stood a massive Mahagony desk—polished, medieval, and grand—all in all, a perfect blend of modern and old, and sitting at the helm of it is Orrigal von Seedrake, Lord Paramount of Dragon's Head, Warden of the East, the current Dragon Lord of House Seedrake.
Orrigal is tall and broad-framed; a whitebeard in a checkered beige suit who looks more like an elite businessman than a battle-hardened warrior.
But his eyes, those crimson pearls, blazed with an intensity that is hard to ignore, and every time I gaze back at them, I feel swallowed, like a sea of fire consuming me whole.
Standing beside Orrigal is another old man: much older, balder, and scrawnier. His name is Boris, a gnostar of the Watchtower, and his grey cloak, heavy on his shoulder.
But mistaking this old man for a weakling would be a fool's act. Gnostar Boris is an S-rank Mage, one powerful enough to obliterate me with a wave of his hand.
"Good afternoon, Grandfather. It's good to see you in good health," I greet warmly as I bow my head with respect, something his status demanded, and it is what I owe him; at least the previous Kyselius did, which now I do too.
Being a baseborn, Kyselius should possess neither the status nor receive any preferential treatments that he does, regardless of his SS-rank Potential.
It is an ironclad law of Caelmyria, strongly advocated by the Church of Antonist.
It was Orrigal who pleaded with the royal court to legitimize him, a decision the old man was often mocked for making. The entire Caelmyria laughed at him, saying it was his life's worst mistake.
It was! No doubt. Kyselius in the books was a major antagonist who smuggled Gargons into Yanar Kash—the cradle of power—causing casualties in thousands. For what? Simply use chaos to climb into the bed of a princess regardless of her will.
But never once did the Dragon Lord treat Kyselius badly; he loved him just as any grandfather should love his grandson.
However, when the news of Kyselius' betrayal reached his ears, the old lord, devastated, committed suicide—he drove a sword into his own heart.
A sad and disappointing ending for someone of his calibre, in my opinion.
The readers back on Earth were furious too, their hatred for Kyselius reaching a whole new level.
But that's not going to happen now that I am 'Kyselius'.
Looking at me, Orrigal's eyes narrowed before he nodded.
I then shift my gaze to lock with Gnostar Boris and flash him a smirk.
"Gnostar Boris, I see you still haven't kicked the bucket yet. Bet it's all those massages you get that's working wonders here," I sneer, throwing him a wink, before continuing, sounding concerned, "Honestly, how long do you plan to drag on? Words on the street, you hide a life-extending treasure on yourself... So, be careful the next time you go outside, or else, the streets of Dragondale would be sullied by blood, and so will our house's name."
That earned me a glare from Boris, but in the presence of the Dragon Lord, he restrained himself; his eyes finding the scenery outside the floor-to-ceiling glass wall—the peaceful private garden—very beautiful.
No way in seven hells would I have ever dared to speak to a S-rank in that tone, not as a measly E-rank, but that's how Kyselius interacted with Boris, at least in the presence of his grandfather; otherwise, he wisely avoided the old gnostar.
Orrigal chuckles. He had no intention of reprimanding his baseborn grandson as he was aware of how rudely Gnostar Boris treated Kyselius; not just him, though, there were others... they did him far worse. However, his hands were tied; if he started showing affection more than necessary, certain people might get the wrong idea, and Kyselius might not live to see another day.
"Ky is right, Boris. These rumours might become a problem for you. They should be dealt with swiftly. See to it. After all, we don't want one of the most learned men to come to any harm. It had a loss for humanity and for us," Orrigal speaks out of concern, but it is just formality; everyone in this room knows it.
Boris, though, nods regardless. "I am an S-rank Mage, my lord. So, unless a team of S-rank surrounds me, or an SS-rank shows up at which point the entire Dragondale will be alerted, I should be fine mostly."
"Fair point. I also doubt anyone has the guts to harm a member of our house."
The Dragon Lord then turns to me, his brows furrowing as he says, "I hear you've been skipping on training for a whole month. Why?"
There it is.
The question I have been expecting and had prepared for.
I part my lips, ready to monologue the response I had worked on for a month now, but someone beats me to it.
"Skipping on training?" Gnostar Boris chimes, he sounds surprised, but I know better what this old bastard this old bastard was planning, "My Lord, from what I have heard, Lord Kyselius has been working very hard... plowing fields, sowing seeds... nonstop, the entire month. I am astounded by his dedication."
This bastard!
I curse him in my mind. The meaning behind his words was clear, but do you think I want to do this?
Kyselius the Lustful suddenly stops visiting the lusthouse for no apparent reason.
That's fucking suspicious!
My secret... the fact that I am not Kyselius will be at risk of being exposed.
That's why I continued visiting Mira and Kyselius' other whores for the rest of the month.
And now it's coming to bite me back.
I look at Orrigal, 'my' grandfather, with nervous eyes, choking on words, as I catch disappointment in his eyes. Moist-eyed, I could no longer look at him and stared at the floor.
'I can win an Oscar for just this performance alone,' I muse internally.
From the corner of my I caught the glee in Boris' eyes, making me want to punch that son of bitch.
For a moment, silence lingered in the air.
"It's Dragon Blood, Boris," Orrigal says, breaking the silence.
Again, with that Dragon Blood nonsense. Just what is this Dragon Blood thing? The book never expanded on it, but Orrigal was often heard claiming that his baseborn grandson, Kyselius, had Dragon blood.
I refuse to believe that Orrigal says it just to remind everyone that Kyselius was a Seedrake too, regardless of his birth status.
No. There must be more to it than eyes can see.
'I should stop by the library,' I make a note, as I hear my grandfather continue.
"Ky, my boy, I understand that you walk the path of Healer, given your talent, it is the most obvious thing," Grandfather says, his tone laced with worry, "But training in weapons and martial arts is just as important. What if in the future you find yourself alone in a dangerous situation, with no teammate to protect you? Don't forget you will be a second-year student starting next month."
How can I forget? It's the most exciting element of the novel, Godsfall: Humanity's Last Stand.
I continue looking at the floor, though.
Seeing this, Orrigal sighs. "Look at me, Ky."
I don't.
"I said, look at me."
Finally, mustering up the little courage I had, I lifted my head and met his crimson eyes with my own, albeit slightly moistened.
"You will be sent to the mainland," Orrigal begins, "It will be mostly the outer regions your missions will be related to, and the Gargons there will only be low-level ones, you can still lose your life at a moment's carelessness."
Then, I catch a slight tremor in his voice as he says, "You're my grandson, Ky, no matter what others say. I don't want anything to happen to you."
My heart tightened at his words. I feel guilt-ridden.
Why?
Orrigal wasn't truly my grandfather; he is Kyselius'. And that whoremonger has been dead for long time now.