(Yuuta's POV)
"Papa, is it done yet?" Elena peeked up at me, her oversized chef's hat slipping down so far it nearly covered her nose. She puffed her cheeks and adjusted it with both hands, looking more like a mischievous rabbit than a cook.
"Almost," I replied, giving the wooden spoon a careful swirl through the simmering sauce. The kitchen smelled warm and savory. "Just a little longer on the sauce."
Elena tilted her head, then burst into a giggle. "Papa, say the name again. Pleeease?"
I sighed, already knowing where this was going. "It's called a Babarito Sandwich."
She slapped the counter with both palms, laughing so hard her cap slipped off entirely. "Ba-ba-ha-braeito! That's such a funny name!" Her eyes sparkled like she'd just heard the best joke in the world.
I shook my head, chuckling. "You're supposed to be my assistant, little chef. Not my comedian. Now, come on—we need to finish this before dinner."
She snapped to attention, puffing her chest out and giving me a sailor's salute. "Aye aye, Captain Papa!"
Her energy made me smile. I stirred the sauce with extra care. "Hmm… Sister Mary will like this," I murmured under my breath. Truthfully, the whole dish was inspired by her. I'd secretly watched her meals at the church: always healthy, always vegan. So I'd built this sandwich for her—a hearty brown bread stuffed with mushrooms, layered with greens, and topped with this silky mushroom sauce.
Just then, the sound of slow footsteps echoed in the hallway. Grandpa wandered into the kitchen, his eyes narrowing like a cat catching the scent of prey.
"What's cooking, boy?" he asked, voice gruff but curious.
"A farewell dish," I answered, keeping my eyes on the pan. "For Sister Mary."
He leaned on his cane, inhaling deeply. His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment. "Mmm… smells divine. Did you make enough for me?"
I laughed softly. "Don't worry, Grandpa. I made plenty."
But he kept staring, his gaze sharp. "Something's troubling you, isn't it?"
I hesitated, then admitted, "I just… I don't know if she'll like it. It's her last meal here, and I don't want to disappoint her."
Grandpa reached over, pinched a piece of bread, dipped it into the sauce, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed slowly, then nodded. "Delicious. Truly. But…" He tapped the counter with a finger. "If you added leafy spirit to it, she'd love it even more."
"Leafy spirit?" I blinked. "What's that supposed to be?"
"A rare crop from the Elf Forest," he said matter-of-factly. "Elves eat it all the time—it strengthens their mana core, makes it pure."
Elena's eyes widened like saucers. "Yes! Leafy spirit is yummy! Elena misses that taste!"
I froze. "Wait—what? Elena, you've had it?"
She nodded furiously, as if remembering a dream.
I frowned and turned back to Grandpa. "But… why would I give that to Sister Mary? Spirits are alive, aren't they? That's not vegan. She'd never eat it."
Grandpa chuckled, stroking his beard. "Boy, you know nothing about elves. Leafy spirits aren't actual 'spirits.' They're crops—plants grown in mana-rich lands. Fruits, leaves, even vegetables. The elves call them 'spirit' crops because they're infused with energy from their forests."
I narrowed my eyes. "But… Sister Mary isn't an elf. She's human."
He waved his hand as though brushing off a fly. "Details, details. The point is, anyone can enjoy it. It's just like eating spinach, only… more alive. Try it, and you'll see."
I crossed my arms. "Fine. But explain it properly. What exactly is a leafy spirit?, I can't let Eat her living Spirit."
Grandpa's eyes twinkled. He leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "Think of your world. What's in the air around you?"
I thought aloud. "Nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxideany more Gases and elements."
"Exactly. And what do plants do with those?"
"They absorb them. They use them to grow, to make fruit, to release oxygen—basic science."
He nodded approvingly. "Now imagine plants not just feeding on air and soil, but on mana itself. The Elf Forest is drenched in it. Over time, the crops there evolve becasue of Pure Mana. They don't just grow—they awaken. That's what we call leafy spirits. They aren't animals, boy. They're plants made extraordinary."
I blinked, letting it sink in. "…So it's not really a spirit. Just a title."
"Precisely," Grandpa said with a smile.
I exhaled slowly, still doubtful. But Elena was already bouncing in her seat. "Papa, let's add it! Sister Mary will love it, I promise!"
I stared at my daughter's eager face, then at the sauce simmering in the pan. Maybe… just maybe… Grandpa was right.
"Well… then how are we supposed to get leafy spirit on Earth?" I asked, brows furrowing as I stirred the sauce. "Didn't you just say it only grows in the Elf Forest?"
Grandpa's lips curved into that secretive smile he always wore when he was about to reveal something outrageous. He stroked his beard slowly. "Hmm… technically true. But not impossible. I can make it grow here."
I nearly dropped the spoon. "Wait—you mean you can actually create an elf forest environment in this room?"
The old man chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that rumbled from his chest. "Of course. For us, it's not so difficult. You just don't know about Zani yet, do you?"
The name rolled off his tongue like a spell.
"Zani?" I echoed, blinking. "What's that supposed to be?"
He leaned on his cane, eyes twinkling. "It's like giving a command. A law written with mana."
"That… doesn't make sense," I muttered, scratching my head. "How can mana be a command?"
Grandpa sighed, the way he always did when I asked a question too human for his liking. Then, his voice softened into that teaching tone of his.
"This universe, boy, was woven together with God Particles—the divine threads the Creator Himself used to spin reality. Zani is the art of bending those threads with your mana. Not breaking them, not rewriting them, but commanding them. When done right, you can reshape the world around you."
I froze, spoon hovering over the pan. "So… you could use Zani to rebuild an elf's environment? Right here? Rich soil, mana-filled air—enough to grow leafy spirit?"
"Not Zani—no one in the universe can use True Zani. Only Zani Core users can access it. What I'm going to use is a lighter version of Zani called Zani Cina." he said.
"Ah, now I understand… You can use Zani Cina within your mana core to mimic a Zani Core, allowing it to respond to your will within a certain space."
"Exactly." His cane tapped against the wooden floor with a sharp tok. "By channeling Zani Cina through my mana core, I can create a pocket of the Elf Forest. Small, but real enough for the crops to grow."
My chest tightened, and for a brief moment, I completely forgot about the sauce simmering on the stove. "That's insane!" I blurted out. "If Zani Cina is that powerful… how powerful must True Zani be? There must be tons of beings who can use it, right?"
Grandpa's laugh rumbled through the kitchen, rich and full, as if the walls themselves vibrated with it. His eyes sparkled, but his gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the present—as though he was staring into a memory etched deep within him.
"Not so many," he said softly.
He paused, his eyes clouded with reflection. "Only Zareth ever used Zani throughout history. She was the only one who discovered the flaw in God's creation… mastered it… and forged the power of Zani—equal to the True God itself. That's how she fought the war alone against all of God's creations. And from that battle… the Sons of Disaster came into existence."
The name sent a shiver down my spine. "Hmm...Not so many. Only Zareth... wait. Grandpa—are you saying you're her descendant?"
For the first time, he laughed so hard he nearly had to steady himself on the counter. "Ha! Don't be ridiculous. No, boy. Zareth wasn't our ancestor. She was Seraphina's closest sister-in-arms. And Seraphina—she was our ancestor. Zareth shared fragments of her technique with her. Those fragments have been passed down, piece by piece, generation to generation."
I exhaled slowly, my head spinning. "Still… that's incredible. Just the thought of it—Zani sounds amazing.I want to see it myself."
Grandpa wagged a finger at me, his eyes narrowing in playful warning. "Careful. Don't let your curiosity run wild. What we use isn't True Zani. Like I said, only Zareth can wield that. This… this is just Zani Cina—a diluted form. A secret of the White Dragon, passed down long ago. Enough to mimic it, enough to cast small spells… but never enough to command like the gods."
I whispered the words, tasting them like something forbidden. "Zani Cina… huh. So not even a true dragon can learn the real Zani."
He gave a slow nod. "Exactly. We're not touching the real thing. Only its shadow."
His eyes softened, but there was steel beneath the kindness. "And even that shadow… it can be dangerous. If you misuse it."
I nodded, forcing my thoughts back into order. My head felt like it was spinning with stars and secrets. I stirred the sauce again, grounding myself in the simple, earthy aroma.
"Alright… leafy spirit first," I muttered under my breath. "One step at a time."
But deep inside, excitement stirred in me like a fire. If Grandpa was right, then I wasn't just making a farewell dish anymore. I was about to touch the edges of a world far bigger than I'd ever imagined.
And maybe—just maybe—it would be enough to make Sister Mary's last meal with us unforgettable.
Grandpa's instructions were simple, but the way he said them carried weight.
"Bring me some soil," he murmured. "And seeds."
I turned to Elena. "Check the bottom drawer, the one where I keep the tomato and chili seeds."
She straightened like a little soldier receiving her mission and hurried off.
Meanwhile, I stepped onto the balcony. The bag of soil I'd been saving was still there, tucked against the wall. I'd bought it months ago with the idea of planting chilies, but Erza had always stopped me. Too sharp. Too messy, she'd said. But today was different. Today, we weren't just planting—we were about to witness magic.
I carried the bag inside, the earthy scent clinging to my hands. Pouring it into a wide clay pot, I placed it before Grandpa. The motion felt strangely ceremonial, like setting down an offering at an altar.
Elena returned, seeds rattling in her palms. She didn't fidget, didn't giggle. Her wide eyes were locked on Grandpa. She knew, as I did, that something extraordinary was about to begin.
Grandpa folded his hands together. His fingers twisted and locked into an intricate pose—familiar, like something from an old martial arts anime. For a heartbeat, nothing moved. The kitchen was utterly still, even the ticking clock seemed to hold its breath.
Then… the air shifted.
At first, I thought it was dust. Tiny motes shimmered into view, hovering above the pot. But no—dust didn't glow. Dust didn't sing. These particles pulsed faintly, like a hidden choir humming just beyond hearing. Each one flickered with its own rhythm, alive and deliberate.
They drifted lazily at first, then began to swirl, drawn toward Grandpa's hands as if pulled by invisible strings.
I swallowed hard. It was beautiful—and terrifying. Like watching sunlight melt into liquid, bending itself to his will.
Grandpa's brow furrowed. Sweat beaded at his temples, but his lips never faltered. His voice was low, steady, chanting words I couldn't recognize. The sound wasn't loud, but it filled the room, resonating in my chest.
The fragments answered. They bent and fused together, twisting like molten metal hammered by unseen hands. Sparks of green bled into silver, silver into gold, threads of color weaving themselves into a tapestry of light.
I felt it in my bones. This wasn't just light—it was mana. Raw, living energy. Everywhere around us, invisible until now. Grandpa wasn't creating it. He was commanding it, guiding it, shaping it into something new.
Slowly, the chaos settled. The lights condensed into clusters—tiny green orbs glowing like pollen caught in eternal sunlight. They hovered between us, bobbing gently, waiting for direction.
Grandpa's eyes fluttered open. They were calm, sharp, carrying the quiet authority of someone who had shaped the world many times before. With the faintest gesture of his hand, he released the orbs.
They sank into the soil.
The response was immediate. The earth flared softly, a green glow rippling outward like water disturbed by a pebble. It pulsed once… twice… stronger each time, until the whole pot shone like a lantern in the dark.
"Now," Grandpa said quietly, his voice almost reverent, "water it."
Elena stepped forward. The jar trembled in her small hands, but she held it steady. She poured carefully, her lips pressed tight, as if afraid the slightest mistake would ruin everything.
The water soaked into the glowing soil with a faint hiss, like thirsty earth drinking eagerly.
For a moment, nothing happened. The silence stretched long enough that I thought perhaps it hadn't worked. Then—
The soil cracked.
A single sprout broke through, glowing faintly at its tip. My breath caught. Before my eyes, the sprout stretched higher, leaves unfurling one by one like wings in slow motion. The stem thickened, strong and sturdy, as though years of growth were compressed into mere seconds.
I could hear it—the faint rustle of leaves expanding, the whisper of roots burrowing deeper. The plant wasn't just growing. It was alive, responding to the mana still humming through the soil.
Elena gasped, clapping both hands over her mouth. Her eyes shone like lanterns. "Papa… it's alive!"
I nodded numbly, my throat too tight for words.
Before us stood a tomato plant, vibrant and strong, its leaves trembling as though it had just drawn its first breath. The glow has brighten, but the life within it remained.
And I… I couldn't look away. It's so beautiful, so majestic.
(Sister Mary's POV)
There had always been something a little different about Yuuta. I noticed it when he was still a boy—small things that set him apart from the other children. At first, I dismissed it, convincing myself I was only imagining things. But now, with Erza here, I could no longer bury it. She deserved to know. One day, when I am no longer here, she will be the one to protect him.
So I chose my words carefully.
"He's… actually a bit of a fast learner compared to the others, my Queen."
Erza's voliet eyes sharpened instantly, like a blade catching firelight. "Fast learner? What do you mean?"
I hesitated. Her expression held curiosity, but beneath it… there was something else. A shadow of worry. I forced myself to continue.
"He's… mature for his age. He picks up things others wouldn't—languages, recipes, even instincts. At six years old, he had already memorized an entire cookbook without a single mistake. He picked up languages as though he were born to them.
Her eyes widened slightly, as though she hadn't realized the extent of it.
"I don't think it's anything to worry about," I added quickly. "But… when I compare him to other children, Yuuta—though human—doesn't act like one. There are no ordinary habits, no childish slips. Sometimes… it frightens me, like he is Monster?"
"Monster?" Erza whispered, her tone dangerously low.
Panic rose in me. I shook my head quickly.
"No, no, my Queen. He is human—I confirmed it myself when I raised him. Nothing about him stood out… apart from his unnatural brilliance."
But deep down, I knew I was lying. I wasn't protecting her. I was protecting Yuuta. Because if Erza—obsessed as she was—ever began to suspect that he was something more, she might push him beyond his limits. And if he broke… or worse, if he died by her hand… the grief would shatter her.
So I forced a laugh, weak and brittle. "It's nothing serious. He's just… smarter than most children, that's all."
Erza's gaze lingered on me. Searching. Then her voice softened. "I noticed it too. In his memories… he was so mature. He knew instinctively who to trust, who to deceive. Even under heavy torture, he never revealed Sophia's name. No ordinary child could endure that."
Her words made my chest tighten.
"My Queen…" I whispered. "You forget. He wasn't born like other children. He was created."
For a moment, silence pressed between us. Finally, she exhaled. "You're right. They made him clever so he could adapt."
Her lips curved faintly, though her eyes betrayed her thoughts. "Still… I almost hoped he might be some hidden dragon descendant. Like Zareth's son."
I chuckled softly. "Impossible. Her child died long ago."
"Yes," she sighed. "I let my imagination run too wild."
We shared a laugh. Just a small, fleeting sound. But then—
It hit.
A cold, crushing weight gripped my chest, like a hand of iron closing around my heart. My breath caught; my knees buckled. I collapsed, clutching at my robes as the world tilted violently.
"Sister Mary!" Erza's voice cracked as she knelt beside me, her hands steadying my shoulders. "What's happening?!"
I gasped, struggling for words. "S–someone… grabbed… my heart—"
The room flickered. The walls, the floor, even Erza's face blurred into darkness until I was no longer kneeling on wooden boards but suspended in a vast, black void.
And in that emptiness—she appeared.
A figure, towering, draped in shadow. She was immense, far taller than any mortal—thirteen feet at least, her form stretching beyond the ceiling, beyond reason. Her face was hidden, swallowed by darkness, but her eyes… her eyes gleamed white like star. Empty, pupil-less voids that bled tears of light. Each drop glowed like a fallen star, trailing across her cheeks before vanishing into the nothingness around us.
I couldn't move. Couldn't even breathe properly. My heart pounded against her invisible grip.
Slowly, she bent forward, lowering her faceless gaze until it hovered just above me. The weight of her presence pressed me into the void, crushing, suffocating.
"My son is not dead…" she whispered, but it wasn't a voice — it was a void, hollow and cold, as if sound itself had been swallowed.
She leaned forward, her eyes bright with a terrible conviction. Then, in a voice not heard but carved straight into my bones, she spoke:
"He… is Alive."
The words reverberated through me, a dreadful truth wrapped in finality.
A scream ripped from my throat—
And then—
To be continued…
(Yuuta's POV)
Hey, readers! How's it going?
Seriously… thank you so much for the 700 collection! It means the world to us—no, to me—okay, to all of us! You guys are absolutely amazing!
Elena suddenly jumped onto the sofa like she'd discovered a mountain of treasure. "700?! Yesss!!" she screamed, flailing her arms so wildly I half-expected her to fly off the couch. Her smile was so big it could probably light up an entire city.
Just as we were about to celebrate properly… BAM! BAM! BAM! The door shook like it was about to explode.
"You idiot! What took you so long? I've been stuck in the door for three chapters!" Erza yelled, her voice echoing like a battle horn.
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. "Oh, come on… can't you give me five minutes to enjoy this? We're celebrating here!"
The knocking got louder, harder, like she was auditioning to demolish the house. "What did you say?!" she shouted.
I panicked. "Please… don't break the door! I haven't even finished paying off the home loan yet!" I said, half-joking, half-serious.
"You idiot! I'm paying for that stupid loan, not you!" she snapped, voice sharp enough to cut steel.
"But I own the house!" I tried one last defense.
Elena threw up her hands and sighed as if this was just another Tuesday. "Papa and Mama are fighting again…" she muttered dramatically, turning to the camera with the expression of someone narrating a soap opera.
Then she grinned mischievously. "Please give us a big powestone! And… read Papa's other novels too!"
She giggled—the kind of giggle that said, I know exactly what I'm doing, and I love it! (≧▽≦)
I shook my head and raised my hands. "Hey, hold on! Don't you get tired reading on pirate sites? Come over to Webnovel, or even use ChatGPT to get the link to our novel. You can read the right book, free of ads, no annoying websites, and get updates the moment they're released. Plus… you can enjoy all the side stories of me and Erza. Why suffer anywhere else when you can have the best experience here?"