"You mentioned your mother," Kaelor said casually, though his eyes did not look casual at all. "What does she even mean to you?"
Zeroth did not answer immediately.
They were standing near the edge of the village, where the dirt paths thinned and the grass grew uneven, trampled by years of people leaving and never returning. The air smelled dry, almost bitter. Zeroth stared at the ground, his fingers clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms.
"Everything," he finally said.
Kaelor raised an eyebrow.
"Everything?" he repeated.
"Yes," Zeroth said again, quieter this time, as if the word itself carried weight. "Everything."
He swallowed.
"She was the reason I kept going," Zeroth continued. "Even when I didn't want to. Even when I felt useless. Every night I came home knowing I wasn't good enough—knowing I never would be—she was there." His voice wavered for just a moment. "She used to tell me stories. About the history of the world. About things no one else talked about."
Kaelor's lips slowly curled upward.
It wasn't a warm smile. It wasn't even amused. It was sharp. Calculating. Like someone who had just heard confirmation of something they already suspected.
"History," Kaelor repeated softly. "Is that so."
Zeroth noticed it then—the way Kaelor's eyes seemed to glint unnaturally, as if the light bent around them. As if he knew more than he should.
"Do you know, Zeroth," Kaelor said after a pause, "it feels like something sent me here. Specifically to you." He exhaled slowly. "I can't explain it well. I don't even fully understand it myself. But I know it."
Zeroth frowned. "Sent you?"
Kaelor ignored the question.
"Go say goodbye to your mother," he said instead. "Promise her you'll come back. Promise her you'll stop her suffering." His gaze hardened. "Don't tell your father. Don't tell your siblings. No one else."
Zeroth's head snapped up. "Wait—what? Where are we even going?"
Kaelor turned away slightly, as if already done with the conversation.
"I will tell Lord Vitral that I've found a child with potential," he said. "You will train under the Vitral clan banner. The legendary magic clan."
Zeroth felt his chest tighten.
Vitral.
The name echoed inside his head like a warning bell.
Something stirred in his memory. His mother's voice. Low and careful. Spoken only when no one else was around.
Clans.
Sinister and elder.
His thoughts raced.
"How old is the Vitral clan?" Zeroth asked quickly.
Kaelor glanced back at him. "Old," he said. "Around eight hundred years."
Zeroth's breath caught.
Eight hundred.
His mother's voice returned to him with chilling clarity.
"Zeroth," she had said one night, her voice barely louder than a whisper, "about a thousand years ago, there were only three clans. The Elder Clans. They were descendants of the Ancient Clan."
She had paused then, her eyes distant.
"But then six more appeared. They stole ancient techniques. Twisted them. Those are the Sinister Six. They can only use either sword or magic. Never both." She looked at him carefully. "The Elder Three can use both."
Nine clans.
Dominators of the world.
"Remember this," she had said. "Eight hundred years—Sinister Six. One thousand years—Elder Three. In another time. In another life."
Zeroth's blood ran cold.
Vitral. Eight hundred years.
A magic-only clan.
One of the Sinister Six.
No one else talked about this. No one else even knew. The world only cared about strength—who was strongest now, who ruled today. No one cared about where that power came from.
No one except his mother.
It was as if she had lived through something she should not have known. As if she belonged to another era entirely.
"These weren't just stories," Zeroth realized silently. "They were warnings."
"Okay," he said at last, his voice tight. "I'll tell my mother."
Kaelor's smirk never faded.
Zeroth rushed into the house. It felt smaller than ever. His siblings were gone. His father was nowhere to be seen.
"Mother!" he shouted.
She was sitting where she always sat.
"I'm going," Zeroth said, the words spilling out uncontrollably. "I'm going to train under the Vitral clan. Mom—I promise you." His voice broke. "I swear I'll make the Zukiro clan the greatest clan there is. I swear I'll never let you suffer again."
Tears streamed down his face as he wrapped his arms around her.
She held him.
Her embrace was warm. Too warm.
"Go, my son," she said calmly. Too calmly. "You will understand one day. In another time. In another life."
That was all.
No fear.
No hesitation.
It unsettled him more than if she had begged him to stay.
For a brief moment, Zeroth wondered if she already knew everything. Or if she had always known.
After a long silence, he stepped back.
He left the house without looking back.
The village disappeared behind them as Kaelor rode ahead, Zeroth seated behind him on the horse.
"Why me?" Zeroth finally asked. "Everyone else ignored me."
Kaelor exhaled. "I don't know. Something pulled me to you. Like fate dragging me by the throat."
"A god?" Zeroth asked quietly.
Kaelor nodded once. "Some believe in a God of Fate. Most don't. I sometimes do."
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
The castle loomed ahead, massive and oppressive. Zeroth had never seen anything so large. The walls alone felt like they could crush him.
This was a magic clan.
He was from the weakest swordsman clan.
He had made a mistake.
By the time the gates closed behind them, it was too late.
Inside the palace, eyes followed him everywhere. Disgusted. Curious. Hostile.
"What is this? Your new slave?" a guardian sneered.
"No," Kaelor said. "Something far more interesting."
The lord's gaze cut into Zeroth like a blade.
"What is this trash?" the lord spat.
Yet even he felt it—that unease. That wrongness.
"If anything goes wrong," the lord said coldly, "you both die."
Zeroth was led to a filthy room.
"This is where you live," Kaelor said.
Zeroth nodded. "It's enough."
That night, pressure crushed his chest.
A whisper followed.
"Every decision… has its own consequences."
He did not sleep easily.
This was not an opportunity.
It was a descent.
And it had only begun.