Walking through the empty streets of Darry Village was a woman. She had shaggy black hair, dark eyes, and a calm, neutral expression.
Despite the injuries covering her body, her steps were steady. In her arms, a baby cried softly, its small voice breaking the silence of the night.
"Whaaa… whaa… mmmph…"
Metsuri let out a quiet sigh. "It's too bad I forgot his fruit basket back in the forest."
The streets were deserted, well past midnight. That didn't bother her. If anything, she preferred it. It meant less attention. She kept walking until she stopped in front of a two-story building.
"Finally. An inn." Pushing the door open, she stepped inside.
The lobby was quiet—almost too quiet. Her eyes scanned the space out of habit. Behind a heavy oak counter stood a woman who offered a small, slightly tired smile.
"How can I help you today, madam?"
Her appearance was neat, but not overly polished. Chestnut brown hair, cut into a layered bob, framed her face in uneven strands. A few pieces were pinned back with simple crisscrossed bobby pins to keep them out of her eyes, and subtle caramel highlights caught the light at the ends.
She wore thick, rectangular black-framed glasses, giving her a grounded, studious look. Her skin had a warm olive tone, and her build was on the petite side.
'What a stupid question', the innkeeper thought, her polite smile never wavering. 'It's midnight. Obviously she needs a room.
She looks practically homeless…'
Metsuri said nothing. She just stared at her.
"…."
'This is awkward…' The innkeeper's smile strained slightly. 'Why is she just staring at me? Did I do something wrong?'
In reality, Metsuri wasn't offended at all. 'I'm jealous of her hair.'
'Did she dye it? That color looks really good…'
"So… why are you here so late?" the innkeeper asked, trying to fill the silence. 'Say something. Anything. This is getting weird.'
"I came from the forest," Metsuri replied. "The one filled with magical beasts."
"The forest…?" The innkeeper blinked, surprised. "You mean the Elder Woods?"
"If that's what it's called, then yes."
'Isn't that place full of monsters?' Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked Metsuri over. 'Her body is actually really toned… That's not fair!'
"…Are you a wizard?" the innkeeper asked, masking her curiosity—and a hint of jealousy. "That would explain the injuries."
'How is she even standing? If that were me, I'd be unconscious…'
Metsuri didn't answer. She stepped forward, stopping at the counter.
"I need a room. Food. And a bath," she said plainly. "I feel disgusting."
"Let's see…" The innkeeper straightened, pushing her thoughts aside as she calculated. "That'll be 5,000 Jewels."
Metsuri gave a small nod before placing a stack of paper bills onto the desk. The innkeeper picked them up and counted quickly.
"Mmm. This works." She gestured toward the staircase off to the side. "Take any room upstairs."
"WAAH—WAAH—WAAH—AAAAH!" A rhythmic wail broke through the quiet, coming from the baby in Metsuri's arms.
The innkeeper's expression softened as she looked at him. A gentle smile formed. "Now that's a strong set of lungs."
She slowly reached out, intending to soothe him.
A sharp sound cut through the air as her hand was slapped away.
"Keep your hands off my property," Metsuri said flatly, her expression cold and indifferent.
The innkeeper stepped back, clutching her hand, her face tightening in discomfort.
"Do you understand me?"
"Y-yes! My apologies." She bowed quickly, unsettled. '…Her property?'
Metsuri didn't respond. Without another glance, she walked past the counter and headed for the stairs.
"GYAAAA—HNNN—WAAAAAAHHH!" Albion's cries grew louder, more frantic.
Metsuri's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression hardening further, devoid of any emotional warmth.
"You're annoying me." She grabbed his cheeks, forcing his fuchsia-colored eyes open. "Quiet down. That's an order."
The moment the infant heard her words, his crying immediately stopped.
The innkeeper's body tensed on instinct, a chill running down her spine. She swallowed hard, her gaze lingering on Metsuri's back as the woman ascended the stairs.
"That woman…" she muttered under her breath, hugging herself tightly. "She has the eyes of a killer… she's crazy…"
◆ ◇ ◆
A sharp grunt escaped Metsuri as she pressed against her injuries. She sat in the bath, the water clouded faintly around her.
"I'll be out of commission if I leave wounds like these untreated…" she muttered. "Maybe I should lay low for a while."
"He-he-he-hee!" A soft, high-pitched giggle broke the quiet.
Metsuri glanced toward the sink.
Albion sat there, small hands splashing at the water. He laughed as he struck the surface, watching it ripple, grabbing at it like it was something alive.
She stared. And kept staring. Slowly, after several seconds, her eyes widened.
'He's… laughing?' Confusion flickered through her mind. 'How?'
'When I first found him… he didn't react to anything.' Her thoughts drifted back to the trees of the Elder Woods. Even during the fight with the Vulcan… nothing. No fear. No interest.
The first time he showed any reaction was when he drank the milk. Then, another memory surfaced from the middle of the battle. She remembered him crying, referring to her as 'mama'.
'I didn't think about it then—I was too focused on the fight. But how was he able to speak?'
When a baby enters the world, it doesn't arrive with understanding. There are no thoughts, no awareness—only instinct. Crying. Breathing. Grasping at nothing.
Everything else has to be learned.
They don't know how to walk. They can't speak, or crawl, or laugh—not at first. Growth is slow, gradual, and unavoidable. That is the natural order of the world. It applies to all living things.
Or at least… it should.
And that was where Metsuri's confusion began.
A normal child takes months just to begin speaking. Longer to move with intent. Longer still to understand. But Albion had done all of it in hours. What should have taken months, he learned in a single day.
And no matter how Metsuri looked at it, it didn't make sense.
Later, Metsuri finished her bath. After washing away the worst of the dirt and blood, she stepped out and sat on the bed with a white towel wrapped loosely around her body.
She rested Albion in her lap. Her fingers moved through his soft hair, gently brushing it back as he sat there, drowsy and quiet.
"I've never met—nor even heard of—someone with a growth rate like yours," Metsuri said calmly. "Why do you have it? Is it something unique to you?"
By now, his eyes were slowly opening and closing, struggling to stay awake.
'Maybe it's because you're part of that bloodline…'
As Albion drifted closer to sleep, Metsuri's expression shifted. A slow, predatory smile spread across her face.
"Now you've piqued my interest, Albion Ebonveil." She leaned in slightly, staring into his fading gaze. "I kept my promise. I've been a good mother to you."
Her smile sharpened.
"Which means it's time to start experimenting."
◆ ◇ ◆
"I'll carry all the burdens… all the sins… all the hatred… so you don't have to."
"If you fall—if you aren't fit to be king—then I'll fight for both of us."
"I'll protect both of us."
As those pale words left White's mouth, memories surged through Albion's mind. They forced themselves in, dragging him back to the day he first met his mother.
He didn't focus on the outstretched hand. He didn't focus on the words, or what they meant. What held him were the memories themselves.
"Bad people…" Albion's voice cut through the space, stopping the white hand mid-reach. "I hate people like that."
His arms rested at his sides, his gaze lowered.
"People who call themselves strong, but only use that strength for themselves."
The black water around them began to stir. It rose and took form, taking the appearance of Gajeel Lionheart.
"They hurt those weaker than them… and call it natural."
The figure dissolved. The water dropped, then rose again, becoming Metsuri Ebonveil.
"They don't think about the consequences. They just do whatever they want, like that alone gives them the right."
He looked up, his voice dropping into something steady and cold. "In the end, their ideals are empty. They only care about the result… never what it breaks along the way."
The form collapsed back into water.
"It makes me sick."
"What are you talking about?" White finally spoke, confusion slipping into his tone. "Why are you acting like this?"
"You wouldn't understand," Albion replied quietly.
Voices echoed through his mind, fragments of every lesson he'd been forced to swallow:
«Live for yourself—your pleasures, your hatred. If you can't do that, then you're no wizard at all.»
»Don't overestimate the value of one life—especially when yours is practically worthless.«
«Have fun struggling. I'll enjoy breaking you down—and building you back up.»
«Right now, you're nothing. Someone who can't even reach one.»
'What do I actually want?'
«Maybe we only reach out our hands to hurt… because we forgot how to hold someone instead.»
A quiet realization settled in.
«So… is it okay if we start from here?»
'I always knew.'
«Maybe I just wanted to know… if it's okay for me to keep living.»
Albion stood fully now. A small, bitter smile formed on his face. "I've made up my mind."
He looked at White. "I know what I want."
"You've made your choice, haven't you?" White said, a hint of amusement returning. "You finally found your resolve."
"Yeah," Albion said. "I did."
White lifted his hand to meet Albion's. "Then your choice is—"
Before their hands could touch, Albion's fist slammed into White's face. The impact jerked White's body back, sending him flying across the black ocean before he crashed violently into the liquid floor.
"GAAH—! HHHNNG—RAAAGH!" White clutched his face, his body twitching on the water.
"You really thought I'd take your hand?" Albion said, his knuckles bleeding in the dark space.
"You told me to throw everything away. To abandon my past and let you take the weight."
He stepped forward, his posture rigid. "Did you seriously think I'd give up my life that easily?"
White grumbled, pushing himself up. "I am trying to save you—"
"You're trying to replace me!" Albion shouted, his voice cracking with years of silence finally breaking open. "You call yourself me, but you don't know anything about what I've lived through!"
His breathing became uneven.
"Ever since I was an infant, I was treated like an object. A possession for someone else's desires. My entire life, I was used over and over by the same person… and I was too stupid to realize it wasn't love."
He pressed a trembling hand against his chest.
"And now, after five years… after finally getting out… you drag me here and tell me to become an object again?"
His voice dropped, bare and painfully direct.
"All I wanted was a normal life. But people like you keep trying to decide what I am." He locked eyes with White. "This life is mine. Not yours."
"What happened to you in those few seconds?" White muttered, his red eyes narrowing.
"Shut up," Albion said, his fuchsia eyes burning. "Stop talking like you understand me."
He looked down at his shaking hands.
"I don't have strength, but I want to win. I don't know anything about magic, or guilds, or how normal people live. I keep throwing myself into fights I can't survive because I don't know what else to do."
A short, dry laugh escaped him.
"I was terrified of opening up to anyone. And the first time I tried… I was pushed away for being weak."
He looked back at White, his stance firming despite the tremors in his limbs.
"I trusted no one. Least of all myself. So don't stand there and tell me you have the answers."
"If I take control, you won't have to suffer," White replied, standing to his full height and spreading his arms. "Why struggle through a miserable world when we can rule it from here?"
"I won't be your pawn," Albion said instantly. "And I'm done being anyone else's." He clenched his fists, his voice settling into a quiet, unyielding line. "I'll use everything in that guild—and I'll use you—to get stronger. I'm going to learn how to stand on my own feet."
White scoffed, his expression becoming cold and sharp. "Talk all you want. You're just delaying the inevitable. If we can't see eye to eye…"
The black ocean rippled violently, waves tearing across the dark space.
"Then we'll just have to break each other."
Albion had no trick to beat the entity in front of him. Anger didn't close the gap in their power, and he knew it. He stared directly into White's eyes, his choice clear.
"I'm done being dragged around."
If the only way to survive White's strength was to match it, then he would force his body to adapt right here in the dark.
"I'm taking what's mine."