Edited by: bafflinghaze
“… In acknowledgment of Doctor Nathaniel Elias Overland’s contribution to humanity…”
Margot and Patrick Overland didn’t expect to be parents in their late forties to an infant, but it was one of the less surprising things overall if one looked at all the oddities and “twisty twists” that made up their lives.
The entertainment industry had its ups and downs.
Margot was an actress who found herself caught in one too many scandals at the beginning of her career.
Patrick was a down-on-his-luck former mercenary who needed a job and stumbled into a bodyguard agency.
It was a complex feeling, knowing all the good things in their lives resulted from the bad things.
They both retired from all of that, though. The friends they made along the way all made sure they would live peacefully away from all the danger and drama.
The baby they brought home wasn’t in their peaceful retirement plan—and to be fairly honest, Margot and Patrick would not recommend making the same choices they made without careful consideration of time, resources, and stability, and just because it worked out for them doesn’t mean it would be the same for anyone else.
That was all to say they impulsively adopted their son from the orphanage they were sponsoring.
In their defense, he wasn’t being treated very well. The fact that he was the only child suffering mistreatment from the caretakers cemented their decision to adopt him.
The caretakers were replaced the following week and the child was taken in by Margot and Patrick.
Nathaniel Elias Overland—or Neo, as their son would later refer to himself—was a “troubled boy.”
And by “troubled boy,” it meant the rest of the world seemed to have some type of misconception about their son.
If he wasn’t met with outright hostility for his quiet nature and the way he would stare silently without a word, then he was avoided.
“… We present this award…”
Nathan had walls taller than the Eppalachian Mountains, and he was distrustful by nature.
Margot and Patrick didn’t mind it.
He was their child. Who did these outsiders think they were, telling them to be careful of their son? Who were they to tell them there was something wrong with their boy, when every single day, they were witnessing him grow into the man they knew he would become?
There was nothing strange or troubling with Nathan, and as he grew older, people envied them for raising such a successful and kind child.
They envied the fact that Margot and Patrick adopted a genius as if they won him at a lottery.
No one seemed to remember the way they treated their boy when he was young, the way they kept their distance and stared at him as if he was some cruel thing looking to hurt them.
But it didn’t matter. Not anymore. Nathan proved them wrong, and that was all there was to it—
“… This award does not define who Doctor Overland was. A son, a friend, and most importantly, a great man. He gave us everything, and we will forever be grateful for all that he has done for the world. Let us all have a moment of silence…”
There was a tap on Patrick’s shoulder. He turned to the man sitting next to him.
“Clark,” he greeted, voice hoarse.
The man smiled sadly and handed him a tissue. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Overland.”
Patrick took the tissue gratefully and wiped his tears. “He died doing what he loved,” he whispered.
“Yeah…” Clark responded, voice strained. “He did.”
Margot was quiet, but she leaned against Patrick. His rock. They were wrinkled old things now, but she was as lovely as the day he met her.
Patrick turned back to the stage. He watched as Nathaniel’s name was written into history.
Their son… wherever he was now, they could only hope he was happy.
—
“How is he?”
Vespera entered the room with warm towels.
Her husband looked exhausted as he remained beside their son. The bloody rune carvings on his back were healing well after a few days. There was still dry blood and scabbing, but Vespera was diligent in cleaning the area as they waited for Nazareth to wake up.
The glow of the lifeline connecting her husband and son pulsed steadily.
Laurel was speaking to one of the healers, indicating to something on a piece of parchment.
“—if we pump him with more antibiotics and shift the location to the spleen—”
“Absolutely not. His immune system is important. We don’t need to remove anything as long as the necessary procedures are done to keep the poison solid here and here.”
“But the operation is too invasive, Your Grace. We can’t risk the infection—”
“Which is why it’s even more important that he keeps his spleen. We’re sending for a specialist who can operate with a ninety-one percent success rate but for now, I recommend a breathing tube for continuous stabilization and shift focus to his esophageal burns—”
The medical jargon started to overtake the conversation and Vespera was at a loss.
She met her husband’s gaze. His eyes were glassy and out of focus, but he remained fully aware of his surroundings.
“His vitals are stable,” he said hoarsely.
His lips were dry, and it was clear he hadn’t been drinking water.
Vespera brought the towels over and used one to wipe his face and upper body.
Her husband leaned his head against her shoulder.
“He will wake,” Vespera assured him.
Dying of poison was a disgraceful way to go. She would not allow Nazareth this indignity.
“Aurelion and Guinivere, are they back yet?” her husband asked.
Vespera pursed her lips.
“They’ve only been gone for a few days, beloved.”
“It feels longer.”
“…”
She stroked his hair and glanced over at their sleeping son.
They weren’t a loud family by any means, but the silence felt deafening without the sound of their children wandering the manor halls.
—
Rainier arrived at the flower shop to pick up the usual order.
“Hey,” the store owner’s son greeted him cheerfully, “how’s it going? I haven’t seen your… um, Neo in a while. How is he?”
Sutton Graham, the boy who, in another life, would have been the target of his Young Master’s ire due to his association with Young Master Aurelion, held the bouquet his Young Master often ordered for his late mother.
“He is busy,” Rainier stated, taking the flowers and making the usual payment.
Sutton sighed, disappointed by the (false) update of his Young Master’s whereabouts.
“Well,” he said, looking forlornly at the bouquet in Rainier’s arms, “tell him I said hello.”
Rainier nodded shortly and left.
Visiting St. Achilles without his Young Master felt strange, but he felt it was his duty to update Lady Alouysia on her son’s wellbeing.
He laid the bouquet on her gravestone and bent down on one knee to face the small flame that flickered to life in the incense pot in front of her stone.
“They say he will soon be awake,” Rainier reported, straightening out the flowers a little. “We think he’s getting better, but he’s completely isolated from the rest of the manor right now and only the healers and the Duke and Duchess are allowed inside. It’s… he’ll wake up. He has to.”
The last part was more to assure himself rather than Lady Alouysia, but Rainier strongly believed his Young Master’s mother did not want to meet her son so soon in the afterlife.
“He has done a lot of terrible things. I can’t forgive him for that, but he’s… he’s trying his best, and he is close to fixing…”
Rainier trailed off, wondering if he should be telling his Young Master’s mother about the Slave Emblem. Maybe she already knew, and would rather not be reminded of the fact that her son played a role in easing the jobs for black market human trafficking.
He read some of the reports, and he knew they were running out of time. The Emblem was about to be released into the black market, and if they didn’t test the Cloud Mark soon, thousands of lives would be ruined.
The hope of a cure was what made survivors resilient. Hope made people strong.
If there was no knowledge of a cure, hope would be lost, and people would take matters into their own hands.
Some people would rather kill themselves than remain chained to endless suffering.
“He is close to fixing the problem. And even if he’s not here, his contingency plan will still be active. He made one, just in case, and the fact that he has one is unbelievable and I’m afraid.”
Rainier admitted to his fear without shame, because the dead wouldn’t judge him for that.
“Of all the places you decided to meet us, you chose a high-born cemetery,” a voice said from behind him.
Rainier turned and saw a man dressed in blue robes staring dispassionately at him with a very large cat in his arms.
His hair was maroon-brown and he was wearing glasses. He looked eerily similar to one of his Young Master’s friends.
Rainier wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. His blindfold allowed him to examine others without having to avert his eyes in embarrassment, but still, he couldn’t quite figure out what was going on.
“Down here,” the same voice said, and Rainier tilted his head to meet the eyes of the cat.
Um.
There was a violet-purple ribbon around its neck—a lacey ribbon tied into the shape of a bow.
The blue-robed man put his hand on the cat’s head and… well, he wasn’t petting it very gently.
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
“Stupid,” the man stated like it was fact.
“I said I was sorry,” the cat… said.
Um.
“No.”
The apology didn’t appease the man.
“Come on, Pherb, give me some slack here. How was I supposed to know they put fancy orange water into the cake? It was a chocolate cake! Why do you need orange water in chocolate cake?!”
“No.”
The cat… pouted(?) as it turned to Rainier.
“You’re the kid’s butler, right?”
“… Pardon?”
“I’m Quill, the head of the Magic Tower Charm Department. This is Pherb, apprentice to the Grand Wizard.”
“A pleasure,” the man said.
Rainier recognized the name and occupation of the Charm Master’s companion. He was the Dagon Family heir and elder brother of his Young Master’s friend.
The cat looked at Rainier, unimpressed. “Look, I’m not really into a meeting at a cemetery. You think we can take this somewhere quiet?”
“You’re early,” Rainier blurted out.
The cat sneered (?). “Yeah, what about it? I thought high-borns value punctuality.”
Rainier didn’t know what to say as he stared at the cat.
… The giant talking cat he once heard his Young Master muttering about when referring to the Charm Master of the Magic Tower.
“You’re the Charm Master?”
The cat rolled its eyes.
“Who else?”
I don’t know, maybe the man holding you?
The sarcastic remark remained in his head as he slapped on his best smile and greeted them with a bow.
“It is an honor to meet you, Lord Quill, Lord Dagon. I am Rainier, a valet. My Young Master has sent me to speak with you.”
The cat shot him a glare.
Its eyes were delphinium blue.
—
The newly opened Friends Cafe, not to be confused with the Lovers Cafe the building once housed, was a mixture of mint green and teal decor.
Quill heard of what happened to the previous owner and establishment—something about kidnapping a noble’s child and storing them in the basement—and thought the current cafe was profiting off its predecessor’s reputation.
A waitress stopped them at the door. “I’m sorry, but we don’t allow animals in the shop.”
Quill meowed in displeasure.
“It’s a good thing I’m not an animal, then.”
The waitress was startled—as most people often were when meeting a talking cat—and stared at him for a long moment.
“A table for three,” Pherb cut in, handing her a few coins. “Somewhere private would be good. Thank you.”
The waitress led them to a room behind the store.
Quill was released from Pherb’s clutches and nimbly jumped onto a chair.
Nazareth’s butler sat down across from him.
The man brought out a notebook from his jacket and slid it over to him.
“The Young Master wanted to give you this.”
It was a plain black notebook that showed wear and tear. The pages had seen better days, and the writing was… nearly illegible.
Large paws clumsily flipped through the pages. He was used to handling paper without opposable thumbs.
His actions paused when he saw the picture of the Thrall Mark, and beside it was the experimental “Cloud Mark” Nazareth wrote to him about.
“The Young Master successfully created an experimental talisman to counteract the effects of the Slave Emblem,” the butler explained. “He has not… tested it, yet, but in the case that he doesn’t come back from his trip in time—”
“Hold it right there,” Quill cut him off before he could say anything else.
The butler startled.
“Pardon?”
“You don’t need to lie,” he explained. “Nazareth already sent me a letter beforehand with his contingency plan. He suspected something like this would happen after making his latest breakthrough.”
—
What?
All of a sudden, Rainier felt uncomfortable. There was a lump in his throat as he took in Lord Quill’s words.
You know what to do.
His Young Master entrusted him to handle his projects. Everything he couldn’t do for the time being was delegated to all kinds of people.
They all assumed he left on a trip, alone, leaving him behind to deal with everything else.
The last thing he needed to do was deliver the notebook.
And yet…
This cat… a Charm Magician from the Magic Tower, knew.
He knew, and his Young Master told him, and Rainier was the one left in the dark all along—left to find out that his Young Master knew this could happen.
Would happen.
You know what to do…
Did he?
The dominoes that came crashing down the moment his Young Master fell weren’t planned. He underestimated how far they would need to go to wake him.
Had his Young Master expected to die? When nearly five months ago, he was just telling Rainier about fixing his past mistakes?
No. Rainier refused to believe that.
There was no way he would succumb to poison so easily.
He needed to believe his Young Master knew they would do everything in their power to save him.
Because if he didn’t…
“Hey, I don’t know where you went just now, but my eyes are up here.”
Rainier raised his head to meet blue delphinium eyes.
Lord Quill scowled, pointing a paw at him.
“Take off the blindfold.”
He instinctively did as he was told.
Lord Quill stared at the marks on his face with distaste.
“Tch, the kid really screwed you up, huh?”
Beside him, Lord Dagon observed the marks clinically. “Has he ever activated it?”
“Activate?” Rainier questioned.
It was Lord Quill who explained it to him. “All charms and talismans have to be charged before they can be used. For seal work of this nature, it usually requires a Double-Charge Activation method.”
The Charm Master brought out an inked parchment from… somewhere and placed it on the table.
“This is a normal heating charm. For these, I can charge a little magic into it, which activates the spellwork, and it will heat up.”
He pressed a paw on the parchment and the ink started to glow.
The demonstration was cut short when he turned to Rainier with narrowed eyes.
“With talismans such as yours, I would need to first charge it up, put it on the skin, charge it again to make it permanent, and then activate the spellwork.”
Rainier thought back to the dark room and the stinging pain of a knife.
“You can see why it’s important to confirm if Nazareth has ever activated the Thrall Mark. I won’t judge him for his lack of ethicality, but it will seriously put a damper on our working relationship if he… you know…” Lord Quill trailed off.
Rainier did, in fact, know what he was referring to.
But he didn’t want to talk about the events and circumstances that led to the whole Slave Emblem ordeal, nor did he desire to speak of the night he was branded.
He tried to voice this, but Lord Dagon cut him off.
“Who is the master you serve?”
“Lord Nazareth of House Odum, the Eldest Young Master of the Duke and Duchess,” Rainier answered automatically.
Lord Dagon met Lord Quill’s eyes. “That confirms it.”
“Confirm what?”
Lord Quill’s whiskers twitched. “If he activated the talisman after placing it on you, you would have been completely under his control. An activated Thrall Mark would trigger an obedience spell that prevents its victim from stating the identity of their Master.”
Rainier didn’t know what to make of that information. Elated? Confused? He wasn’t quite sure how to feel.
Both the cat and the man scrutinized him curiously as if they’d seen something unusually strange.
Rainier didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what they were thinking.
They thought his Young Master didn’t have the heart to activate the Slave Emblem after placing it on him.
They believed there was goodness in him.
Having already heard his Young Master’s explanation, Rainier could confidently say they were wrong.
The previous Young Master was not kind.
The only reason he didn’t bother activating the talisman was because he didn’t think Rainier was worth the effort.
“Let’s go see it… midsummer has the second prettiest dawn, right?”
“Hey, no, we’re not doing that again.”
Rainier was abruptly slapped by a cat’s paw before he could spiral further.
The cat glowered at him from across the table, its ears pinned down with displeasure.
“Focus, kid. I don’t tolerate flashbacks. They take up time—time which could be used for something more productive.”
Rainier was slow to respond, but he nodded when the cat raised another paw to slap him again.
—
“Fuck! They’re gaining!”
It was broad daylight now and the heat of the desert bore down on them relentlessly.
The discomfort was made worse by the appearance of Sand Nomads—a group of exiled criminals who hunted travelers crossing the desert for sport.
The caravan split apart into fragments with both servants and guards taking action to defend vulnerable riders as they evacuated the area.
Royce and Finneas made sure Neo’s siblings remained with them. The siblings were closely followed by Lethe, who didn’t stray far from their charges.
The Sand Nomads gave chase, their Desert Stallions frothing at the mouths as they tried to corner them.
In the open desert, it was easy to get lost.
There was suddenly an explosion behind them, followed by a scream.
Royce took a glimpse of what had happened and saw five of the Sand Nomads on the ground with their horses. There was a charred and sizable crater, and if he looked close enough, he could make out a missing limb or two—
Okay, that was enough of that.
“Father gave us mana bombs,” Aurelion said, holding up two sphere-shaped crystal balls in his hand.
Royce took a deep breath and didn’t comment.
They steered their horses forward, the Sand Nomads further behind them after being hit.
Despite splitting into groups, it felt as if they were being targeted. There were more people after them, and this realization stirred the suspicion in the back of Royce’s mind.
He and Finneas glanced at each other.
It seemed they both reached the same conclusions.
The two of them halted their horses and jumped down.
“What are you doing?” Aurelion and Guinivere stared at them in confusion, neither moving after seeing them stop. Lethe remained silent, waiting for a decision.
Royce unraveled the chain tied to his waist.
“Go. You have the map and the compass. Get to the city first. We will join you once we’re done here.”
“What?! No! We’re not going to leave you behind!”
Finneas’ eyes glowed an eerie gold as sparks started to crackle in the palm of his hands.
“That’s not an option, kid. The sooner you get there, the better. It will take longer than a day to deal with these guys, and if you haven’t noticed, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“But—”
Whatever Aurelion was about to say was cut off by an arrow whistling past them.
Oh, fuck these guys.
“Go!”
Finneas sent honest-to-good lightning bolts down on their attackers.
Guinivere steered her horse forward without looking back. Her brother followed with a reluctant expression. Lethe remained behind them, weapons drawn in case more arrows were fired.
Without the siblings in the way, Royce and Finneas launched a counterattack at the Sand Nomads.
Finneas served as a long-range attacker as Royce closed in on their enemies.
He delivered a firm kick to a man’s groin and knocked him unconscious with a good knee to his face when he keeled over. This triggered three of the Sand Nomads to come after him, which he gracefully evaded with a sweep of his chains.
Critical weak points were targeted intensively as he felled his enemies.
More lightning bolts dropped from the sky, followed by fire arrows and other magical bullshit Finneas was pulling out of his ass.
He gave the appearance of a Mage Master, standing with his palms facing upward, crackling with mana as chaos reigned around him.
His grin was absolutely feral as a gust of desert wind swept around them.
If only their attackers knew it was all a facade.
Pherbian had shoved all kinds of talismans and charms into Finneas’ storage space before they departed. The only real skill required was charging the spells with a bit of mana before shooting them out like a money gun.
Finneas was basically playing Poc-Man with the Sand Nomads while continuously on the metaphorical Power Pellets, and it was glorious.
The scuffle went on for a good while, with Royce sweeping the legs of their enemies with his chains and tripping a bunch more people with well-timed kicks. He was taking out close-range fighters right and left while Finneas handled those who were smart enough not to get close.
Somewhere in the fight, Royce picked up a rock the size of his fist and threw it point-blank at the face of a woman with a big sword.
The woman fell unconscious with a resounding thunk and Royce moved on to the next person.
They have successfully drawn a literal line in the sand, blocking their enemies from going after the siblings
—
Rainier watered the plants lining the window sill in his Young Master’s lab with careful precision.
The plants were growing well in the absence of his Young Master. There was an uncomfortable ache in his chest as he thought about this.
There was suddenly a click at the door, the sound of a key being inserted and turning, and Rainier immediately hid himself inside the coat closet his Young Master used to brew coffee.
He heard even, faint footsteps make their way into the lab.
There was the sound of a sliding drawer opening, which wasn’t necessarily a drawer, but rather the drawer since his Young Master had gotten rid of all but one of them to make room for the lab tables.
The only sliding drawer in the lab was the one built into his Young Master’s desk.
Whoever this intruder was, they weren’t meant to be here.
No one, as a matter of fact, was allowed inside his Young Master’s lab except for the Head Housekeeper and Butler until his Young Master recovered—and this included Rainier.
He snuck in during shift rotations, having memorized the patrol schedule, and triple-checked to make sure he would have at least fifteen minutes to sneak in and out.
So who was this person breaking into the lab and rummaging around in his Young Master’s desk?
There was shuffling, the sound of paper being moved around—the intruder was very obviously looking for something and failing—and finally muttered a curse.
The drawer was slammed shut and he heard footsteps moving once more.
The footsteps stopped.
Rainier’s breathing remained calm as long needles appeared between his fingers.
However, after a moment, the footsteps continued moving.
The door opened and closed. There was the sound of a key being inserted, and then the door was locked.
Rainier came out of the closet, frowning.
He took off his blindfold and made his way over to the desk.
Everything was where it should be. No one would have suspected anything was out of place, except…
The black notebook his Young Master used to research the Slave Emblem.
It wasn’t there because he had already given it to the cat and the mage earlier in the day.
Was that what the intruder was looking for?
He quickly made his way over to the door and opened a small crack.
He peeked out.
There was a figure down the hall turning a corner. A maidservant with twin braids…
Rainier paused.
Ethel?
—
Night fell, but Guinivere and her brother continued to ride with Lethe protecting them from the back.
Nightmare and the other Desert Stallions haven’t slowed down since they ran, continuously galloping forward toward their destination.
Guinivere felt the ache of exhaustion lining her body. The saddle felt bruising on her legs and her back was immensely uncomfortable from being hunched over the entire day as they rode.
But they didn’t stop. They couldn’t.
They left their brother’s friends to the mercy of those bandits. Their sacrifices would not be in vain.
The plan was to get to the city in the early morning. The plan fell through and their schedule was bumped ahead. If they continued at the pace they were currently going without stopping, they should arrive by noon.
So they didn’t stop.
The desert was cold at night, unlike the scorching heat of the day.
Guinivere felt light-headed, having not bothered to drink any water or eat anything besides the gruel they had this morning.
But they continued on with night pearls lighting the way.
They reached an oasis, one of the checkpoints her brother’s friend had mentioned during their meeting the night before.
There, they hid behind a few trees and took a quick water break. It wasn’t long before they were back on their horses and moving once again.
Guinivere took a final glimpse of the crystalline water and trees and thought of Nazareth. If this was an ordinary trip, they might have taken their time enjoying the scenery.
But future trips could wait. They couldn’t stop for long.
Dawn broke the horizon with its light crawling out like long glowy fingers from the sand.
In the distance, they saw the Holy City in all its glory.
A white-silver gate and marble walls surrounded its literal ivory towers. In the very center was the Temple of the Gods, a tall structure made from white steel and pearlescent minerals.
“It’s pretentious,” Guinivere said.
Her brother didn’t comment.
From this distance, they chose to change. Lethe assisted them out of their current set of clothes, and they put on the ones they wore during their departure, which were far cleaner in comparison after a day of non-stop travel.
She and her brother used another color-changing enchantment on their hair and eyes—the previous enchantment having faded during their run through the desert.
They fed the horses, ate a quick breakfast of dry jerky and water, and walked the last leg of the journey by foot.
When the sun reached the center of the sky, they made it.
—
Aurelion felt as if he had carried a boulder on his shoulders for ten hours straight.
His legs were cramped from riding all day and through the night on the Desert Stallions, and the stress of the trip finally caught up with him once he, Guinivere, and Lethe reached the white pearly gate of the Holy City.
There was a long line of people awaiting entrance, spanning from individual pilgrims to noble representatives.
He felt like he was in a sauna as he got in line. The Holy City was built on an oasis and the humidity sucked big time.
The heat was sweltering and his skin felt sticky underneath all the layers.
He wanted a bath.
This barely-a-week-long trip had proven he was a privileged and sheltered noble brat. He needed running water and active cooling-heating charms. He was used to his luxuries, and he liked them.
Gods, he would die in the wilderness.
A wineskin appeared in front of him.
Lethe waved it in his face.
“You should drink, Young Master Aurelion. The water will cool you down.”
Aurelion stared at the wineskin for a few seconds, trying to get his brain to work.
Lethe stared at him, or at least, Aurelion believed they were staring at him—he couldn’t really tell since they had a mask on—and slowly placed the wineskin in his hand.
Aurelion’s fingers curled around the wineskin. He blinked at it.
Lethe wrapped their hand around his wrist and slowly helped him bring the wineskin to his mouth.
It took a few seconds before Aurelion discovered he needed to open his mouth to drink.
It took several more seconds to remember he needed to swallow.
The wineskin was taken away and Lethe leaned over to adjust the scarf around his head.
Aurelion wanted to protest the action, but there was barely any energy left in his body to fight it.
“You’re getting sunburned,” Guinivere pointed out with a single brow raised in judgment.
Aurelion noticed she also had a wineskin.
Oh, he finally realized belatedly.
They were taking a water break.
That was great.
But he still wanted a bath.
They waited in line for nearly an hour. There were so many people waiting to get into the Holy City.
“Identification?” A guard stood in front of them with his hand held out.
“Um…” Aurelion didn’t know what to say.
His brain wasn’t working very well right now.
“We’re members of the Benedick Pilgrimage. Our party has been delayed by a day. We’ve been sent ahead of the party to assist in the check-in process after being separated,” Guinivere explained.
The guard didn’t look very happy hearing the reason why they couldn’t provide identification.
“We were attacked by Sand Nomads out of nowhere. Young Master Royce entrusted us to prepare for their arrival.”
Aurelion never thought he would ever hear his sister say “Young Master Royce” with a straight face, but here they were. Disguised as commoners, standing in front of the Holy City, and dying of heat.
It was like living in a dark parallel world.
The guard sighed.
“Listen, I can’t just let you inside without…”
Aurelion’s brain felt fuzzy all of a sudden.
From a distance, he swore he saw a bright light glowing like an overcharged light pearl.
In broad daylight.
“Hey, is he okay?”
A sharp static pain erupted in his head.
“He doesn’t look too good…”
Aurelion suddenly heard the ringing of bells. They echoed in the back of his mind and did nothing to soothe the worst migraine in his life.
‘Yellow Flower, gold and bright…’
“Brother? Brother?!”
“Young Master Aurelion!”
The last thing he remembered was shouting, mixed with the sounds of bells and a familiar melody…
—
Step 48. Let your loved ones re-evaluate their feelings for you. While that’s happening, it is very likely your other loved ones have encountered danger in their journey.
The author has something to say:
Remember when I said this was a slice of life at the beginning of this story? Yeah, good times. Also, y’all remember that really incriminating notebook that Neo hid in his desk in Volume I instead of burning it? Good times, good times.
Also, thank you, RubyInkWell for the fanart!
Oh yay, I didn’t expect another chapter so soon. Thank you! Poor Aurelion, hope he’s okay.
Lord Quill’s feelings about flashbacks are very entertaining. I’ve always wondered how people are supposed to manage those in the middle of a conversation without being noticed. This seems more accurate.
Rainier’s got a glimpse of the culprit. Go Rainier!
The talking Maine Coon is always a treat and I love imagining Pherb trying to haul the giant cat around the city while being buried in fur 😆
Thanks for the chapter!!! ❤️❤️❤️
…Incriminating? Gahdamn please no.
Also tysm for the doubke chappie
Please someone tell me the original name of this novel
Hope i understood the question right but this isn’t a translation but an original story, so the name you see on the title IS the original name! 😄
Damn I guess he finna have a flash back too poor kid they all workin to hard to save a life