When we stepped inside the house, the temperature seed to have suddenly dropped. In contrast to the icy atmosphere, though, my mother’s fiery gaze pierced down at from the top of the stairs, the corners of her eyes struggling to keep her tears from rolling down her cheeks.
"Hello, Mother, I’m... back?" Cold sweat perated through my pores as a pressure akin to an S class mana beast weighed down on my very soul.
I had to admit, I wasn’t looking so sharp. My body was a canvas of nicks and scratches and my hair probably looked like it had been struck by lightning repeatedly, as if one strike wasn’t to its satisfaction. The entire back of my uniform was nonexistent from when it was sandpapered away as I fell down the hole.
"Arthur Leywin..." My mother’s voice dripped with frost.
Before she had the chance to say anything more, a familiar voice instantly broke the tension in the room.
"BROTHHERRR!" My baby sister bolted down the stairs past Mother, stumbling on the way down, and took a leap into my chest, her arms imdiately clinging around with the strength of a python on steroids.
"Erk! E-Ellie, it hurts..." my voice ca out raspy as I gently patted my sister’s head.
"A teacher ca and said you... you were lost," Ellie managed in between sniffles.
My sister rubbed her face against my chest while attempting her almost incoherent string of words, as if wanting to burrow herself inside .
Sylvie had stirred awake at this point. With her ears drooping down, she consolingly licked my sister’s cheek.
"I know... I’m sorry for worrying you guys...again." I looked up at my mother as I said this, my voice dropping to almost a whisper.
I could tell by her expression that she was torn between whether to scold or just be happy.
Maybe she would do both.
My father took this chance to walk over to my mother and gently lead her down the stairs, comforting her.
"There’s a ti to be angry, Honey, but now isn’t the ti. Look, it’s your son. He’s back." My father’s soothing voice eased the tension between my mother’s brows. As her expression softened, so did her will.
Breaking down into sobs, she wrapped her arms around from the side, triggering a chain reaction, thus, causing my sister who was still wrapped around to begin bawling her eyes out yet again.
My mother’s sobs made her soliloquy almost indiscernible; she seed to switch between cursing God to thanking him.
"It’s not fair...
"Why is my son the one that keeps getting so hurt?
"Thank God, you’re safe!"
My father and I made eye contact and he gave a reassuring half-smile while he gently patted my bawling sister and mother, both of whom were angrily thumping with their trembling fists, crying.
Their fists didn’t particularly hurt but each shaking strike seed to gnaw away at ; the guilt ate away at my insides, as I stood there, motionless, biting my quivering lower lip.
It took about a good hour before they cald down; both my sister and mother reduced to a state of heavy panting and constant hiccups.
Sowhere in the middle of our scene, I spotted Lilia’s mother, Tabitha, peeking from upstairs. I could tell she wanted to co down and comfort my mother and sister but before she could, Vincent pulled her back, giving a aningful nod.
Eventually, we got ourselves situated in the living room. My sister’s breathing was still erratic to the point of worry, her arms wrapped around Sylvie. My mother was a bit better as her swollen eyes probed for any serious wounds before placing a gentle hand on my chest.
"... And let Heaven and Earth heal." As she ended her chant, a soft white glow enveloped my body.
Almost imdiately, I felt a soothing warmth covering every wound, even the ones I didn’t know I had.
As the healing glow dissipated along with my injuries, I looked at my mother’s concentrated face.
I wanted to ask.
Why could she use her healing powers now?
How was she able to heal Dad when he had been struck by the mage on the way to Xyrus? I still rembered her desperately healing my father as he ordered to take my mother and run. That was before I’d fallen off the cliff.
But I bit my tongue and forced a smile. My father was right; I should wait for her to tell first.
My mother let out a sigh before taking her hand off my chest. She stared at , and gave one more firm, wordless hug.
We eventually began talking about what happened. My father took a brief mont to tell how Professor Glory had visited and told them what had happened to before she had to hurry back. All the while, my sister sat wordlessly on the couch, curled up with Sylvie, as she seemingly stared at a particular spot on the ground in front of her.
On my end, I tried not to make a big deal of what transpired for the sake of my mother. I skimd over the fight with the minion crawlers, telling them how there was just a bit more than we expected.
Both my parents gave a face that told they didn’t believe it was that simple. They knew too well.
How much was I supposed to tell them?
My mind lingered towards the fragnt of the demon’s horn that floated inside the dinsion ring I was twisting with my thumb.
The scene flashed through with such clarity, as if plastered to my brain. The dismbered corpses... The river of blood... Alea...
Taking a deep breath, I told them the full story. All of it...
...at least, until where I landed.
I never understood why those old stiffs from the Council in my previous world used to say ’ignorance is bliss’ ...until now.
Nothing good would co out of knowing everything I witnessed at the bottom of that dungeon earlier today.
My mother’s hoarse voice broke the silence that followed after my story.
"When Professor Glory ca in yesterday during the middle of the night, she was wounded and tired, but from her expression, I knew she wasn’t even thinking about that."
"She said that you stayed behind with her to save the class. She told you were a hero. But you know what? I didn’t care." Her voice barely made it to a whisper as she trembled slightly.
"More so than so hero, I just wanted my son to co ho without being half-dead every ti. What if one of these days..." My mother couldn’t finish her sentence as tears began streaming down her face once more.
"Art, you’re only twelve, but why does it feel like I’ve almost lost you so many tis already?" Her voice choked.
Words failed to form again as I stared blankly at a particular mole on my mother’s arm. How was I supposed to respond? Her question felt like a trap with no right answer.
"Honey, that’s enough." My father reached for Mother’s hand and grasped it tenderly.
I realized that, just like how I was growing, my parents were growing as well. My father’s once immature, haughty side had been molded into a mature and gentle deanor. He was still the sa father that cracked jokes, but he had a layer of depth now that most likely ca with raising my sister.
My mother had always been on the mature side but through the years, she’d beco a bit more refined. Associating with the Helstea House and with Tabitha and Vincent’s friends had made her more elegant, but right now, she seed to have reverted back to an earlier age when her emotions weren’t as stable.
I didn’t bla her. I would probably be tempted to lock Ellie indoors if she ever ca ho even half as wounded as I had earlier today.
The rest of the conversation went by a bit more comfortably. Tabitha and Vincent ca down after noticing that things seed to have settled. I hadn’t seen them in quite a while so after greeting them, we all took so ti to catch up.
Soon, Ellie was nodding off to sleep so I carried her to her room, leaving Sylvie with her. Even in her sleep, my sister still sniffled from crying so much. Through the night, she didn’t say a word. I knew that this episode had been pretty traumatic for her. A professor actually visited them, after all, and told them that I was missing. If not for the ring that my mother wore telling her that I, at the very least, had not died, she probably would’ve fainted.
It might actually have been worse for my mother, in this case, to have the ring. All she could do was stare at the ring, waiting for it to notify her that her son had died. What kind of mother would be fine after going through that?
Getting to my room, I slipped out of my tattered uniform and washed up. I planted my face directly against the current of the warm, gushing water, almost wanting it to erase what had occurred earlier in the dungeon. Alea’s last monts kept pounding into my skull, a constant reminder of how weak I was.
The image broke as two short knocks tapped against my door.
"Can I co in?"
"Sure," I replied.
My father entered, closing the door behind him before taking a seat next to on my bed.
"Arthur, don’t mind too much what your mother said tonight. She may have said she didn’t want a hero but we are both proud of what you did back there in the dungeon. Knowing that my son isn’t soone who would abandon his allies is sothing I can take absolute pride in."
I always knew when my father was serious because he would call by my full na instead of my nickna, Art.
"I don’t know what really happened back there in the dungeon and I won’t ask, but just know that I’ll support whatever you decide to do."
I struggled to swallow the knot that ford in my throat upon hearing my father’s last sentence. It was supposed to be a supportive statent but all I felt was a sour taste in my mouth.
Without giving a chance to respond, my father stood up and ruffled my hair. Opening the door to my room, he turned his head and gave a goofy grin before walking out.
I didn’t imdiately go to sleep when he closed the door behind him. Instead, I sat cross-legged, and began doing sothing I haven’t done seriously in a long ti—train.
____________________________________________
The dark yellow core inside the pit of my sternum had cracks all over it, signaling that I was about to break through soon.
The various noises of the night were drowned out as I keenly focused on the activity going on inside . Wind, Earth, Fire, Water... these were the basic elental attributes that mana contained, but that was it; they were rely attributes.
When mana circulated inside the core and throughout the body, it wasn’t distinguished as anything other than simple mana. Like the ki in my old world, it was formless, attributeless, and pure. Over ti, mana adapted to its surroundings and ford attributes. For example, near regions in the north where there was much more snow and water, magic pertaining to those elents would obviously beco stronger due to the attributes of the mana. The mana, depending on the environnt, slowly changed and contained attributes to better exist there.
As mages, we were able to absorb, purify and guide mana with our will into different shapes and forms that we called "spells."
The purer our mana core was, the higher the capability we had in manipulating the existing mana inside us. As to how well one utilized their mana, that would depend on how creative, sharp, and skillful the mage was in battle.
The whole aspect of elents lay in the underlying fact that everyone had elents that they were naturally more sensitive to—being able to manifest and shape that pure, attributeless mana into an elent being the cause.
Alea, along with the other Lances, was most likely a white core mage, capable of causing widespread devastation if she truly wished to. Yet, Alea had been so easily defeated and killed by that black-horned demon.
Every pore in my body took part in absorbing the surrounding mana as the mana inside my core swirled fiercely.
I imagined the sound of the outer layer of my core cracking as the bright yellow underneath the crumbling outer shell was revealed.
As I let out a deep breath, I stood up and opened my eyes to stare deeply at my hands. I willed mana out of my body and it began circulating around .
Letting out an unsatisfied tch, I sat back down again and began cultivating once more. It took almost the entire night to break through when I had already been on the brink anyway.
How much more did I have to train in order to even be on par with those demons? If even a white core mage had to give her life to rely chip off a fragnt of the demon’s horn, what stage did I have to get to?
What would happen after breaking past the white core stage?
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