Second Choice Noble Son: Apparently I’m Stronger Than the Summoned Heroes Chapter 82 : The Word That Changed Everything

Rooga’s POV

I was practicing again, sweat dripping down my face as I forced another orb of water into form. My hands shook a little — holding the bloom for too long always made dizzy — but I pushed through.

“Focus, Rooga,” I whispered to myself.

The tree humd faintly at my side, Maori sitting on a branch above , kicking her legs like a child watching a show.

That’s when Father stepped into the clearing.

I froze, startled, but he only smiled faintly. His steps were steadier now than they had been in months, his shoulders firm, his body no longer weighed down by the curse.

Maori’s eyes widened. She hopped down, circling him with the excitent of a child who had just discovered a new toy.

“Ahhh… so that’s what happened!”

Father frowned. “What’s what?”

“Your mana,” she said, pointing at his chest like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s not human anymore. It’s not elf either. It’s both — fused! I’ve only seen it once before.”

My father’s brow furrowed. “Fused… mana?”

Maori twirled in the air, her laughter like little bells. “Yes! Cyan. Balanced. Stronger than either alone. The last ti I saw it was during my second life, millennia ago.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping in awe. “It belonged to a hero who saved the elves from corruption itself.”

I blinked. A hero…?

Father stayed silent, his jaw tight. His grip tightened on his sword hilt, though he wasn’t preparing to draw.

Maori, unbothered, clapped her hands. “So, you don’t need to worry, Valemont. This is fate’s gift. Train hard, make that mana yours — and one day, you’ll help reclaim the land. You’ll save Mara, just like your son will.”

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“Save… Mara?” Father’s voice was quiet, dangerous.

“Yes,” Maori said, all cheer and certainty. “Consider it paynt. I gave you an elf core to heal your broken heart. In return… you’ll fight for .”

The words hung heavy in the air.

I glanced up at Father. His face was calm, but his eyes — sharp as blades — flickered with sothing else. Anger. Fear. Duty.

He didn’t answer Maori. He didn’t refuse.

But I knew my father well enough.

Whether he wanted it or not, the mont she tied his strength to her cause, he had already accepted another burden.

A few days passed quietly, though the world outside our walls was never still. The beasts in the distance howled at night, and the air still carried that faint, bitter taste of corruption. But inside our house… it was warm.

Riaz had started crawling. His little hands smacked against the wooden floor, his stubby legs kicking clumsily as he dragged himself forward. Sotis he rolled over like a toppled barrel, other tis he bumped his head and cried, but he always kept trying.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him.

“You’re stubborn, huh?” I muttered.

Then it happened. He pushed himself up just enough, his mouth wobbling before a sound tumbled out.

“...Ma…ma.”

The room froze. My eyes went wide.

“Wait—did you just—”

“Mama!” Riaz shouted louder, this ti with a bright giggle.

The sound of hurried footsteps filled the hall. Mother rushed in, her eyes wide and glassy. She scooped Riaz into her arms, holding him close.

“...My baby’s first word,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

I couldn’t stop staring. Sothing strange pulled at my chest — not jealousy, not exactly. Just… warmth. Like a string had been tied between all of us, pulling tighter.

Mother laughed softly, brushing Riaz’s hair. But I noticed sothing else. The way her robes fit. The way her stomach curved just a little more than before.

“...Mama,” I said slowly, my eyes narrowing at her belly. “Are you…?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she gave a small, embarrassed smile. “Yes, Rooga. You’ll have another little brother or sister soon.”

I froze. Another one.

Another sibling.

Another person I’d have to protect.

Father entered then, carrying a basket of farm tools. His gaze went straight to Mother’s stomach, and for a mont, even his stern expression softened into sothing warm. “We’ll need more hands around here,” he said.

I sat there in silence, with Riaz still babbling in Mother’s arms. Mama. Mama. Mama. He said it again and again, proud of himself.

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to… I don’t know.

All I could think was: Our family keeps getting bigger.

From the window, Maori’s small voice chid in, perched on her tree branch with her usual smirk.

“Bigger families are nice. More people to feed blooms!”

I glared at her. “Not everything’s about you.”

But when Riaz reached out his tiny hand toward , still grinning as he said “Mama” again, even I couldn’t stop the smile pulling at my lips.

For the first ti in a long while, the Valemont house felt alive.