Chapter 38 - Demon Continent
--Onnirelle, Varellos Magic Academy--
A few days had passed since my official enrollment in the Magic Academy of Varellos, and the polished stone halls already felt cold and overwhelming.
The students, including me, wore dark blue striped blazers over lighter blue polos with dark blue neckties. The female students wore blue striped dresses, while the male students wore navy blue pants.
"The first one to raise their hand will be rewarded with twenty bonus points toward their overall grade," Miss Omni announced, her tone lively as she leaned forward over her wooden desk. "And I will only pick the one whose hand goes up first."
She adjusted the brim of her pristine white wizard hat, her sharp blue eyes sweeping over the rows of terraced desks. Her blonde hair fell in soft curls over her white robes, giving her the graceful air of a high-ranking scholar.
"Who can tell me the recognized progression of spell levels in modern spellcasting?" she asked.
Instantly, a dozen hands shot into the air with sharp rustles of fabric. Mine went up without hesitation. Even though my eyes remained gently closed, as they always were, my heightened senses and acute spatial awareness caught the precise movement of every student in the room.
Miss Omni's gaze landed on me immediately. "Onnirelle," she nodded, gesturing toward my desk.
I stood up smoothly, smoothing the front of my academy uniform. "There are six recognized tiers," I answered evenly, my voice clear. "Intermediate Spells, Advanced Spells, Saint Tier, King Tier, Emperor Tier, and God Tier."
Miss Omni smiled, giving an approving nod. "Precisely. Now, follow-up question: What do we officially call a mage who cannot yet cast an Intermediate Spell, but possesses a refined, conscious understanding of their internal mana flow?"
Another flurry of hands cut through the air.
"Onnirelle?" Miss Omni selected me again without delay.
"They are classified as Novice Mages," I replied. "Simply comprehending the subtle flow of mana within one's own body is enough to attain the rank of Novice. An individual remains at this stage until they successfully manifest an Intermediate-tier spell."
"Good! Very good!" Miss Omni beamed, taking a quill to mark her ledger. "Another twenty points to you, Onnirelle. I admire students who think fast and react faster. Those who lag behind in this classroom will find rewards hard to come by."
Right on cue, a loud, metallic chiming echoed through the stone corridors.
RINNGGG!
"Ah, there's the bell. Go enjoy your recess, children. Class dismissed."
The room erupted into the clatter of moving chairs and chatter as the eight-year-olds gathered their belongings. Among them was my older brother, Euginne. As he slung his bag over his shoulder, I felt his gaze linger on me of sheer disdain. He sneered, turning his back on me without a word as he strutted out the door flanked by his circle of friends.
At six years old, I was by far the youngest student in the academy—and the entire facility, for that matter. The average age for entry at Varellos was eight or older, but I had been granted early admission through a direct, personal recommendation from the Royal Mage.
To my brother and the other students, I was an outcast. An uncomfortable reminder of their own limitations.
I waited in complete silence, keeping my face forward and ignoring the hushed whispers filtering out the doorway. Only when the heavy wooden doors swung shut and the hallway chatter faded into the distance did I finally let out a long, quiet sigh of relief.
The classroom was quiet now. Down at the front, Miss Omni was shuffling through her lesson parchments, dipping her quill into fresh ink.
My mind drifted back to a memory of Ytval—to a small boy with an impossibly bright mana, effortlessly weaving magic without uttering a single syllable. Kyro had done it so casually, as if it were as natural as breathing.
Determined, I slung my satchel over my shoulder. Instead of following the crowd out toward the courtyard, I walked down the stone steps of the lecture hall, stopping directly in front of the teacher's podium.
"Miss Omni?"
Miss Omni paused, her quill hovering above a sheet of parchment. She looked up, raising her eyebrows in pleasant surprise. "Oh, hello there, Onnirelle. Exceptional work in class today. Off you go, now—run along and enjoy your recess before the bell rings again."
"It's fine," I said softly, clasping my hands behind my back. "I still have about nineteen minutes of free time. Recess lasts for twenty minutes."
"Mm, a stickler for punctuality. I like that," she tilted her head, resting her chin on her palm. "So, what can I do for you?"
I hesitated for a fraction of a second, my tilt of my head reflecting my inner focus. "I... I am curious about something not covered in today's textbook. How does a mage acquire the ability to cast magic wordlessly?"
"Wordlessly...?" Miss Omni hummed, her playful demeanor shifting into something more scholarly. She leaned back in her chair, her white hat tilting slightly. "Well, that is almost entirely a matter of raw talent. It is an exceedingly rare phenomenon. Historically, true Wordless Casting has only been unlocked by individuals with impossibly complex minds and extraordinarily high intellect."
She ran a finger along the edge of her desk, her voice taking on a thoughtful, frustrated edge. "Truth be told, grand academies across the world are still conducting research on how Wordless Casting even functions. There was an old theory that it was a divine blessing bestowed directly by the gods—a mark of favor. But that theory was quickly discarded when High Paladins and Saint-tier Healers failed to detect any divine crests or holy residual mana on the few Wordless Casters that exist."
Miss Omni sighed, letting out a mild huff of disappointment. "The most infuriating part is that the handful of mages who can cast wordlessly are terrible at explaining it! When asked how they do it, they usually say something useless like, 'You just visualize the spell and channel a hundred percent of your intent into your mana pool.' But if it were really that simple, every Archmage in the kingdom would be doing it."
"Then..." I leaned forward slightly, "are there any modern theories as to why some people can do it so easily?"
Miss Omni rested her elbow on the wood, placing the back of her hand against her cheek. "Mmm... I suppose there is one popular theory gaining traction. Many researchers believe that a mage must unlock the neural pathways for Wordless Casting before the age of ten. Most recorded Wordless Casters in history manifested the trait either at birth or during their early childhood. In fact, that exact theory is why Varellos recently changed its policy to allow younger prodigies like you and the eight-year-olds into the academy early."
The policy's standard enrollment age used to be ten, but it has been reduced to eight. Prodigies, like me, can enroll even earlier than eight.
She paused, a warm, curious smile spreading across her lips. "Though, I must admit, I'm fascinated as to why a six-year-old is asking about high-level magical theory on her fourth day of school. You really are the most extraordinary student I've ever met, Onnirelle."
"I—well..."
I stammered, feeling a sudden warmth flush my cheeks. But then, a vivid memory flashed through my mind—Kyro's goofy, embarrassed grin when I caught him practicing, his intense determination, and the breathtaking, flare of his mana.
A soft, genuine smile broke across my face, breaking through my usual reserved facade.
"Actually... my best friend can cast magic wordlessly."
Miss Omni's eyes widened in sheer excitement. "He can?! That's incredible!"
"Yes," I murmured, my heart swelling with quiet pride. "He is truly remarkable. He's only a year older than me..."
"What's his name?!" Miss Omni leaned over her desk, her voice brimming with sudden, intense academic enthusiasm. "I wasn't aware we had another prodigy of that caliber in the upper-year classrooms!"
"Oh—uh, sorry," I scratched my cheek awkwardly, a tiny, sheepish laugh escaping my lips. "He... he isn't enrolled at the Varellos Magic Academy yet. And what I meant is his age, he's seven."
Miss Omni's jaw dropped slightly, a brilliant, fascinated grin lighting up her face. "A seven-year-old un-enrolled Wordless Caster?! Oh, you have to tell me everything about him!"
"Maybe next time, Miss Omni." I laughed.
"Fine," She deflated, "I wish I could meet your friend and conduct research with him.."
***
And so, I made my way down to the academy cafeteria.
With only twelve minutes remaining before the warning bell, the chaotic lunch rush had long since dispersed into the outdoor courtyards. The long, polished line where students usually queued for food was completely vacant.
Lucky me.
I approached the counter and politely requested today's meal. The cafeteria worker handed me a tray laden with a cold glass bottle of milk, a bowl of fresh greens, and hot sausages.
"T-thank you," I murmured softly.
Carrying the wooden tray, I scanned the room with my senses. There were dozens of empty tables stretching across the vast hall. I picked a quiet spot near the main walkway, sliding into the bench alone.
Whenever I sat by myself in these grand halls, a sharp, cold ache settled in my chest. Among the noble children, I was treated like an anomaly. No one ever approached me, no one offered a seat, and no one spoke to me unless required. The warm, lingering smile I had shared with Miss Omni dissolved entirely as I lowered my head, focusing strictly on my meal.
"You're at our table."
A familiar, chilling presence materialized right behind my back. Three other magical signatures hovered just behind her, were three noble lackeys sticking close to her heels.
It was my elder sister, Sally Freyharp.
Her purple eyes bore down into the back of my neck, her manicured fingers gripping her own pristine tray. I had deliberately waited until late recess to eat specifically to avoid her, but she had done this every single day since my arrival.
They hadn't just bumped into me. They had intentionally masked their mana signatures near the crowded entrance, lying in wait for me to sit down.
A cold bead of sweat trickled down my temple. I swallowed the lump in my throat and gave a small, defeated nod. "O-okay..."
I picked up my tray, standing up to move to an empty table a few feet away. But before I could sit, Sally glided past me, blocking the bench with a flick of her skirt.
"Sorry," she purred, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. "This table is taken, too."
"Okay..." I muttered quietly, stepping toward another booth across the aisle.
"Taken."
I took three steps to the left.
"Taken."
The tight knot in my chest twisted violently. "Then... where am I supposed to eat, Sally? Why are you—"
SLAM!
With a violent swing of her arm, Sally struck the bottom of my wooden tray.
The glass bottle shattered against the sleek floor, spraying milk across my boots as my warm sausages and fresh salad skittered across the polished stone walkway.
Even though I couldn't see with my eyes, my mana perception mapped every single piece of my ruined food scattering across the smooth, pristine stone. Instinctively, I tilted my face downward, staring at the floor as if I could see it—a habit I desperately clung to just to feel like a normal person.
"There," Sally spat, leaning down until her breath brushed my ear. "You can eat down there."
"W-why are you doing this...?" My voice trembled from my small voice. "I've never done anything to hurt you."
Sally let out a cruel, tinkling laugh. "Why? You dare ask me why?!"
She jabbed a sharp finger violently against my sternum. "You are a filth-ridden stain on the Freyharp lineage, Onnirelle! You are cursed! Father said it himself—you're a foul omen! You bring nothing but disgrace and ruin to this kingdom! A royalty born disabled is a sign for destruction! I mean, look at history."
"Those are mere superstitions, sister! And at the past, those unfortunate events happened because of poor decisions!" I blurted out, a sudden surge of desperate anger forcing my voice higher as I tried to defend myself. "I am not a—"
SLAP!
A sharp, stinging pain exploded across my left cheek. The force of her palm knocked me off balance, sending me tumbling hard onto the cold stone floor right beside the spilled milk.
"Stop speaking to me as if we are equals, Onnirelle," Sally scoffed, looking down at me with utter revulsion as she gestured to the mess. "Eat your filth."
Without a shred of remorse, she took a deliberate step forward, planting her leather shoe squarely into the middle of my spilled salad, grinding it flat against the smooth marble before sweeping out the cafeteria doors with her grinning friends in tow.
I sat there on the cold floor, completely helpless.
After a long moment, I pulled myself up, silently gathering the broken glass and ruined food, dumping it into a disposal bin before walking over to the nearest table. My hand trembled as I cupped my burning, reddened cheek.
The staff behind the counter looked at me with helpless, pitying eyes, while the few remaining students simply looked away, pretending I didn't exist. My mind was spinning violently out of control.
Formn told me I was blessed... So why do they treat me like a monster? I've never harmed anyone... I walk, I speak, I feel, I learn just like them... I'm human, just.. like them... Why must you all hate me so much...?
Dark, suffocating thoughts spiraled through my heart, drowning out the ambient noise of the hall.
Unbeknownst to me, a young boy sitting near the back corner had watched the entire altercation unfold. He quietly stood up, walked to the food counter, and requested a fresh tray. The cafeteria staff, recognizing the look in his eyes, piled it high with extra portions without asking a single question.
Carrying the warm tray, the boy with dark blue hair glided silently across the empty cafeteria.
Clack.
The wooden tray slid smoothly onto the table right in front of my hands.
The sudden movement snapped me out of my dark spiral. My senses refocused, mapping the boy standing before me—sharp features, deep blue hair, and vivid, calm green eyes that held no malice, no pity, and no disgust.
"Here," his voice was cool, smooth, and grounded, pulling me completely back to reality.
He nudged the tray an inch closer to my hands before turning on his heel. "Eat up. Class starts soon."
I stared at the hot, untouched meal, then back toward his retreating figure as he pushed through the cafeteria doors. "What...?"
A wave of profound, unbelievable relief washed over my chest. I stared down at the food, my hands trembling; not from sadness, but from overwhelming gratitude. Deep within my mind, I etched the distinct, crisp flow of his mana signature into my memory. I would never forget it.
***
When the final bell rang at the end of the day, I deliberately lingered in my seat, waiting for every single student to leave before packing my satchel. I slipped out into the grand hallway, keeping my steps quiet as I hugged my leather bag tightly against my chest.
"Where do you think you're going, little sister?"
A harsh grip suddenly clamped down on my wrist, yanking me backward. I gasped, stumbling as I came face-to-face with my older brother, Euginne.
He sneered down at me, his fingers tightening around my delicate wrist until it bruised. His gaze drifted to my left cheek, where a dull red mark was still faintly visible beneath my pale skin.
"Looks like big sister already gave you a proper greeting today," Euginne taunted, tilting his head with malicious delight. "I just wanted to drop by and see how it felt. Does it hurt? Does it make you want to cry?"
A few lingering students stopped in the corridor, watching the scene play out, but none dared to step in. That same toxic pressure returned to choke the air out of my lungs.
I struggled against his grip, my voice strained. "B-brother... please let go of me. You're hurting my wrist—"
"So what if I am? What are you going to do about it, you little freak?" Euginne sneered, leaning in close.
"Let her go."
A low, composed voice cut through the hallway. Before Euginne could react, a hand reached out from the side, wrapping around Euginne's wrist with a crushing, iron grip.
"Now."
Euginne gasped, his face twisting in sudden pain as the pressure forced his fingers to snap open, completely releasing my arm. Euginne stumbled back a step, cradling his throbbing wrist in utter disbelief that anyone in this academy dared to touch him.
"Y-You!" Euginne snarled, his eyes flaring with aristocratic rage. "You insolent bastard! Do you have any idea who I am?!"
The dark blue-haired boy stood between us, his posture relaxed, his green eyes locked onto Euginne with an infuriatingly calm glare. He didn't even draw a wand.
"Under Section 5, Sub-section 3 of the Varellos Magic Academy Conduct Policy," the blue-haired boy stated smoothly, his tone deadpan and completely devoid of fear, "physical aggression, intimidation, and unlawful detention of another student on school grounds are strictly prohibited."
My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the cool, steady flow of his mana signature.
It's him...
"Ha! You're quoting rules to me?!" Euginne laughed hysterically, trying to regain his composure as his friends gathered behind him. "This academy sits within the borders of the kingdom—a kingdom my father rules! Rules don't apply to royal blood, you peasant! I could have you executed by sunset!"
"Wrong again," the blue-haired boy replied instantly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Under Section 5, Sub-section 4, parental title and royal rank hold zero legal jurisdiction over disciplinary actions enforced within the academy gates. Any student committing an infraction is subject to immediate suspension under teacher supervision."
He took a slow step forward, forcing Euginne to take an involuntary step back.
"You and your sister aren't brave, not at all. In fact," the blue-haired boy added, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp, cold delivery that echoed down the quiet hallway. "you're just cowards who carefully calculate your cruelty. Sally waited until recess when the cafeteria staff—who happen to be commoners afraid of losing their jobs to your father—were too terrified to speak up. And you waited until after final dismissal, when the hallway teachers are locked in their offices finalizing tomorrow's curriculum."
The blue-haired boy tilted his head slightly, a cold, mocking smirk playing on his lips.
"You wouldn't dare raise a finger against Onnirelle if a single instructor were standing in this hall. So go ahead, run to your father. But unless you want me to march straight to Headmaster Vance's office with three third-year witnesses to report your violation, I suggest you take your pathetic threat and walk away."
"Tch.." Euginne clenched his fist. "I will remember this." He walked away with his friends, leaving the dark haired boy and me in the halls.
Students did not cheer, but a collective wave of relief washed through the hallway as the lingering students quickly dispersed into small groups, whispering under their breath as they hurried off.
The dark blue-haired boy stood his ground, watching in silence until Euginne's mana signature completely vanished around the far corner of the hallway.
Only then did he turn back to face me. He didn't offer pity, nor did he make a grand spectacle of his intervention. His calm green eyes simply swept over me, making a quick, subtle check of my bruised wrist and the faint red mark lingering on my cheek. Satisfied that I was alright, he gave a single, quiet nod, shoved his hands deep into his uniform's pockets, and turned to walk away.
"W-wait!"
The call burst out of my chest before I could stop myself.
"W-what's your name?"
He paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"Dan Manor, Third year."
The same as my sister's year.. I gulped.
"M-my name's Onnirelle Freyharp.."
"I know. You're popular." Dan simply said before turning again and walking away.
I took a few quick steps forward, closing the distance until I was walking right alongside him in the quiet hall. The contrast between his steady, grounded presence and the toxic malice of my brother was almost overwhelming.
"I... Thank you, Dan.." I stammered softly, lowering my head slightly. "For standing up for me... and for the lunch earlier."
"You're welcome," he replied simply, his voice cool and unassuming.
The name registered to my brain.. Manor. I turned it over quickly. "Are you related to the Archduke, Dominic Manor?"
"He's my father," Dan said. "A good friend of your father's."
"Oh." I recalibrated. "I see." And then, because there was a gap in the conversation and I didn't know what else to do with it. There was a brief silence, the kind that could go several different directions as we kept walking silently.
"You should know, we'll probably be spending a lot of time together after class."
I tilted my head slightly. "Why?"
"I've been appointed to be your personal knight. It won't be official until we're older, but the decision's already been made. My father told me last month." He said it the same way he'd said everything else evenly, without drama or fanfare. Like it was simply a fact that existed and was worth knowing. "I wanted you to hear it from me directly, rather than from someone else. It seemed more practical."
"I see," I responded, taking the information in. "Thank you for telling me yourself."
"Of course."
He didn't pry. He didn't ask uncomfortable questions about why my own siblings treated me like a disease, nor did he demand gratitude. Instead, he simply adjusted his steady pace, slowing his stride just enough to match my smaller, six-year-old steps.
Side by side, we walked through the grand stone arches and down the quiet, sunlit corridors toward the academy dormitories. For the first time since I had stepped foot in the Academy, the silence shared with another person didn't feel cold.
***
--Kyro--
Ugh...
My head throbbed with a slow, rhythmic ache, like a drum beating inside my skull. I slowly pried my eyelids open, my vision blurry and heavy with sleep.
What happened...? Right... the ocean. The Kraken... Grann blew a hole in the sea, and I fired that massive Fireball...
I clutched at my forehead, wincing as a sharp wave of vertigo washed over me. "Ah..."
A sudden, sharp gust of wind whipped across my face, biting into my skin and tossing my hair into my eyes. My senses slowly flickered back online. The smell of salt water was gone, replaced by the crisp, dry tang of thin mountain air and warm dust.
Wait... wind? Are we still on the ship..? But I smell no salt.. Weird.
I blinked against the glare, squinting downward to figure out what surface I was lying on.
My stomach instantly plummeted straight into my boots.
"OH JESUS CHRIST!"
The blood drained from my face so fast my vision went white. I wasn't in a bed. I wasn't on a ship. I was suspended in mid-air, hundreds—no, thousands—of feet up. Below me was a breathtaking, horrifying expanse of jagged, orange-tinted wilderness, stretching out like a barren wasteland of canyons and dry, sun-baked earth. Far, far in the distance, the ocean looked like a tiny, sparkling blue thread on the horizon.
I squirmed in absolute terror, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. "W-WHAT IS THIS?! WHY AM I FLYING?!"
I tried to flail my arms, only to realize I couldn't move my torso. Heavy leather ropes were wrapped snugly around my chest and thighs, hitching me directly to a giant wooden frame. Behind my head was a massive hiking pack—and someone was currently wearing that pack.
Along with me.
"Oh, look who decided to join the living!" Grann's boisterous voice rumbled through the wooden pack, vibrating right into my spine. "How was your nap, cabbage?"
To my right, a familiar gasp cut through the howling wind. "Kyro! You're awake!"
I whipped my head around—or as much as the ropes allowed—and saw Lyra hanging off a sheer rock wall a few feet away. She was wearing my leather backpack, her knuckles dusted white as she clung to a small ledge on a massive, towering purple cliff face. Her eyes were wide, and for a fraction of a second, a look of pure, unadulterated relief washed over her face before she caught herself and quickly scowled.
Right next to her, hanging onto the rock face with just one massive arm, was Scrotus. His short brown hair blew wild in the mountain wind as he casually used his free hand to shove a strip of dried meat into his mouth.
"Welcome back to the land of the conscious, kid!" Scrotus grinned, his teeth flashing against his sun-tanned skin. "Was wondering when you'd stop slacking."
"W-What are you guys doing?!" I yelled, my voice cracking in sheer panic. "Wait... are you THREE ROCK CLIMBING RIGHT NOW?!"
I looked up. Endless purple cliff face. I looked down. A 2,000-foot drop into jagged orange rocks.
I was literally strapped to an old man's back like an oversized baby Björn while he free-soloed a mountain!
"WHERE IN THE FIVE REALMS ARE WE?!" I shrieked.
"Welcome to Zintar, little one!" Grann chuckled, his deep laugh sending mini-earthquakes through my tied-up body. He paused his ascent, clinging to a tiny granite lip with just two fingers on his left hand. He turned his head back, grinning at me over his shoulder. "How are you feeling, kid? Mana pool still burning, or are you back to normal?"
"I-I... my head hurts, but I feel fine!" I whimpered, staring at the sheer vertical drop below my dangling shoes. "Grann, holy crap! WE ARE SO HIGH UP! WHY AM I STRAPPED TO YOU?!"
"Shortcut," Grann grinned, using his toes to find a tiny foothold in the purple rock. "If we took the standard merchant road from the port to your uncle's tribe, it would've added three whole days to the trek. But Lyra and Scrotus insisted on taking the scenic route. Said they liked the challenge. Right, squirt?"
Lyra puffed out her cheeks, effortlessly pulling herself up to another handhold with one arm. "Oh, absolutely! This is easy peasy! Just a little light exercise!"
"Hell yeah," Scrotus added, tossing another piece of dried meat into his mouth while resting his weight on a single foot. He brushed a lock of messy brown hair out of his eyes with his forearm. "Saves us time, and climbing builds calves. Win-win."
Grann let out a hearty laugh, resuming his steady, terrifying climb, pulling his massive frame—and my extra weight—up the cliff face with zero effort.
"Besides," Grann added casually, "I want to get us there with plenty of time to spare. Rangle's wedding is in a few days, and you need time to get reacquainted with your cousins before the festivities start."
I swallowed hard, trying my best not to look at the orange wasteland below. I turned to Scrotus. I was confused as to why Scrotus came with us, but I also realized he's a Mandate like Grann. I guess it make sense why he's coming.
"A-anyways, how... how long was I out?"
"Just two days," Lyra chimed in from the ledge above us. She looked back at me, a genuine look of tragedy crossing her face. "Honestly, nitwit, you missed out. You have no idea how delicious that Kraken was. We roasted a whole tentacle over the ship's furnace."
"So true..." Grann let out a mournful sigh, his stomach letting out a loud rumble that vibrated against my legs. "I wanted to stay on the ship and eat the whole damn thing, but time was ticking. We couldn't even finish twenty percent of it before we had to dock and hit the trail."
I imagined the size of that creature again...
You guys have blackholes for a stomach!
"Speak for yourself," Scrotus smirked, patting a heavy burlap sack tied to his belt that was oozing savory juices. "I jerky-cured fifty pounds of tentacle meat before we stepped off the ship. Best trail snack ever."
My mind flashed back to the sea, the smell of burnt monster, and the demon captain who had held me in the sky.
"What about Brohm?" I asked softly, a wave of nostalgia hitting me. "Did... did she just leave after we docked?"
"Ah, the Captain!" Scrotus chuckled. "She left a message for you, actually. Said that whenever you need a ride across the ocean again, you get a mandatory eighty-percent discount as an honorary crewmate."
"Really?" I blinked, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"Yep." Grann interjected, "She also said to grow up big and strong, she couldn't wait to see your adult face."
Scrotus laughed at that remark.
I let out a weak, nervous laugh, though my smile faded into a faint pensive frown. "Man... I wish I could've said a proper goodbye to her before I passed out."
"Well, she did kiss your forehead before we depart," Scrotus hummed, "At least that's something."
"Don't get all sappy, Nitwit," Lyra huffed, hauling herself onto a wider stone outcrop above us. She dusted off her hands, looking down at me with her hands on her hips. "When we head back home after the wedding, we'll just hire her big boat again."
"Ship," I automatically corrected her. "It's a ship, Lyra."
"Whatever! Same thing!" She pouted, crossing her arms.
Grann let out a booming laugh that echoed across the canyon. "Ah, don't mind her, Kyro. Do you have any idea how frantic she was when you didn't wake up on the first day? She was practically drowning the streets of the town in tears!"
Scrotus burst out laughing right beside her, nearly losing his grip. "Oh man, don't remind me! I thought she was gonna bite my head off!"
Lyra's entire face turned instantly beet-red. "GRANDPA! UNCLE! SHUT YOUR MOUTHS!"
"Oh, really?" I grinned, forgetting my fear of heights for a split second to savor the moment. "Tell me more, guys."
"Oh, it was magnificent!" Grann gleefully mimicked a high-pitched, sobbing voice, shaking his head dramatically. "'GRANN! WE HAVE TO FIND A DOCTOR! I THINK KYRO'S BRAIN MELTED! HE'S DEAD, GRANN, HE'S DEAD!' And then she started shaking your corpse screaming, 'WAAAAH! KYRO! PLEASE DON'T DIE! WHO AM I GOING TO BULLY IF YOU'RE DEAD?!' It was truly heartwarming."
"She even tried to splash bilge water on your face to wake you up!" Scrotus roared with laughter, shaking his head. "I had to physically haul her away before she drowned you while you were already unconscious!"
"Ah~" Grann wiped a tear mockingly, "How touching~."
"I DID NOT DO THAT!" Lyra shrieked, her face burning like a lit torch.
In a fit of unbridled embarrassment, Lyra reeled back her leg and delivered a fierce, unannounced kick straight into Grann's side.
THUMP!
Now, Grann was a legendary warrior, but right now, he was climbing a cliff face using pure muscle with his Aura completely turned off. The boots hit him square in the liver.
Grann's breath hitched in a sharp, wheezing gasp. "Oof—!"
For one horrifying, heart-stopping second, Grann's left hand slipped completely off the purple rock. His entire body tilted backward over the abyss, suspended by a single foot on a crumbling stone ledge.
"LYRA!" I shrieked at the top of my lungs, my soul nearly leaving my body as I dangled over a 2,000-foot plunge. "GRANN IS CARRYING ME! DO NOT KICK THE MAN HOLDING ME ABOVE LAND!"
"Whoa, easy there!" Scrotus barked, grabbing Grann's shoulder belt with his free hand to steady him, his arm crossed above Lyra's head, his brown hair whipping wildly in the draft.
Grann quickly jammed his fingers back into a rock crevice, bracing his body and letting out a long, wheezing groan as he massaged his ribs. "Gah... mental note... never tease the brat while scaling a cliff..."
Lyra didn't look back at us. She spun around, furiously wiping her dusty face on her sleeve as she scrambled toward the upper ledge, her shoulders stiff.
"Shut up, Kyro," she muttered, her voice quiet against the mountain wind, though I could still catch the faint tremble in it. "None of that was true. But... it's good you're back."
I smiled, "Thanks, sis."
[End]