Ray had been juggling countless tasks for nearly a month—negotiating with nobles, visiting inventor shops, hiring laborers and warriors, and overseeing the deployment of mini towers to expand the kingdom's communication network. Each day blurred into the next, but finally, the work was done.
When he returned home, the familiar scent of wood and herbs greeted him at the door. He collapsed onto his own bed, the softness beneath him a welcome change from tents and inns. It was like being embraced by peace itself. The cozy warmth of his own room wrapped around him, and exhaustion swept him into a deep sleep.
Despite taking a break from his official training, Ray never abandoned his cultivation. Even now, the morning sword routines had become so deeply ingrained that missing them left a hollow ache inside him. He might sigh at the monotony, but that ache reminded him—this was part of who he was.
As the soft light of dawn filtered through the window at 6 a.m., the familiar knock on his door echoed once again.
"Ray! Time to get up!" Aunt Mary's gentle but firm voice stirred him.
He had missed this call, too.
Stretching with a groan and a smile, Ray sat up and greeted her with a warm, "Good morning, Aunt Mary." He stepped forward to give her a quick, affectionate hug—one that held the unspoken gratitude of being home—before heading to the training grounds.
The air outside was crisp, still clinging to the night's chill. As he approached the training ground, he noticed something odd—his father, Robert, was already there and... smiling?
Ray's instincts screamed. That smile was not comforting. That was the smile—the one that usually meant doom for his limbs and muscles.
Without thinking, Ray turned on his heel and tried to flee. But before he could take more than three steps, a heavy sword scabbard whipped out like a snare, catching him by the collar and yanking him backwards with a grunt.
Robert chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming. "I let you go for a short time, but you took a month. Your training will be ten times harder starting today. Your weights will increase. Your sets will double." He paused, his grin turning sinister. "And your training time will go from two hours... to three. For missing an entire month."
Ray flailed, protesting, "But I have been training! I didn't stop!"
His pleas fell on deaf ears.
Back on the ground again, panting under the added weight and brutal new regimen, Ray wanted to cry—but there were no tears left to give.
Still, through the chaos of grueling exercises, Robert's eyes held a glimmer of pride. His son had changed. Ray's body had become stronger, leaner, and taller. The months of effort had not gone to waste.
After the intense session, as Ray sat catching his breath and wiping sweat from his brow, Robert's tone shifted.
"The king sends his gratitude," he said, his voice softer. "Because of the plan you gave him that day, all the different kingdoms and sects came. Not one missing. They were eager to attack, but King Daymond made a brilliant move—he offered to sell them the hot air balloons. At twenty percent above market value."
Ray's eyebrows rose.
Robert nodded. "Most accepted. Only two sects refused. But the idea you gave the king—making the others threaten those two with war unless they bought in—brilliant. Because of your planning, no war broke out. And the king said he'll reward you for your service."
Ray simply nodded. "It was our plan to start the war, so it was my job to keep the kingdom safe. And… I'd rather live in peace than fight. But if they come for someone like mother again, they'd better be ready. Because I will not forgive them."
Robert's eyes widened. He remembered everything began when Daniel tried to attack Diana. He stared at his son quietly, realizing once more—no one should provoke this boy. Not if they valued their life.
Later that day, after finishing a session on formations with his mother, Ray threw himself into research. Together, he and Diana were trying to create a magical version of a crystal ball that could be turned into a screen—essentially, a television through formations.
The room was littered with failed attempts—broken arrays, shattered crystals, burnt tools. Each failure wasn't just technical—it hurt. The emotional toll was real. Every mistake cost rare components. Every wasted crystal was like a wound.
After dozens of trials, Ray finally slumped against the wall, eyes staring up at the ceiling. "Let's go see third mother," he muttered.
Diana looked at the mess and sighed. She could see the weariness in Ray's eyes. "Ray, I think… it's time we tell Selene the truth. That you're reincarnated. She's been with us long enough. I think she's proven herself."
Ray froze at the doorway, hand resting against the frame. Slowly, he turned around.
"I'd love to," he said. "But it scares me. Telling you was terrifying. And father doesn't even know yet. What if… she doesn't understand? What if it causes problems?"
Diana reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'll be with you. And I believe she'll accept you."
Ray's shoulders relaxed just a bit. "If she joins us, it would help. In this whole family… besides you and father, I only ever really talk with third mother and Angelina."
Diana smiled warmly. "Then we'll tell her. And if she doesn't accept it, what of it? I'm still here with you."
That made Ray smile. A true smile, one from deep inside.
"As long as you're here, mother, I'm not afraid of anything. Let's call her."
With a flick of his wrist, Ray tapped his communicator, opening the call.
Selene's voice answered with a playful chuckle. "You finally remember your third mother? Why haven't you visited me after your grand adventure, little Ray?"
Ray laughed back. "Third mother, I'm calling to invite you to my room. Please come over."
"Alright," she said, and ended the call.
A few minutes later, Selene arrived. Her eyes scanned the mess—half-finished constructs and burnt parchment scattered everywhere. Diana and Ray both looked around sheepishly.
"Umm…" Ray scratched the back of his head.
Without a word, they all moved to Diana's room—a sanctuary of order and quiet. The soft light through the windows cast a golden glow over the clean table they now sat around. But silence hung thick in the air.
Selene raised a brow, tilting her head. "Do I have something on my face?"
Ray's eyes widened. He waved his hands quickly. "No, no, no! You have a very beautiful face. There's nothing wrong!"
Selene chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Then say what you have to say."
Ray looked down at his hands, then back up. His voice was steady, but the tremble in his fingers betrayed his nerves.
"Third mother… I have to make a confession."
Selene leaned forward slightly. "What is it? Did something happen? Tell your third mother—I'll fix it for you."
Ray drew in a long, slow breath.
"Third mother, I—I am a reincarnated."