Lucius still couldn't fully grasp why they all had risked their stable, well-established lives for him—a child with no past, no powers, and no promise of a future. He had voiced this confusion to Sia before, frustrated by her vague answers that never quite made sense. This time, though, she saw the restlessness in his eyes.
Taking his hand gently, Sia let out a quiet sigh.
"Calm your mind, Lucius. This will be the last time I speak on this. After tonight, I want your word—you'll stop asking. Let this doubt be buried."
Lucius nodded, a quiet breath leaving him as he prepared to hear the truth once more.
"I understand why you're so hung up on it," she began. "Our actions made no sense. Even to us. But let's start with Ragnar. Four holes in his chest, his mana core shattered. He was dying, whether he fought or not. Still, he chose to speak to you—he gave you his weapon before returning to the battlefield. Do you think he calculated that?"
Lucius shook his head. No words came.
Sia continued, her voice calm but firm. "Then me. When that cursed Ghost Bear fired its first volley, I didn't have time to think. I moved on instinct. So did Ragnar. So did Rey. My first reaction was to shield you. Ragnar's was to stand as an unbreakable wall for June and his wife. Rey's was to dance away and hurl his daggers like a storm. None of it was planned—we were just... acting."
Lucius stayed quiet, absorbing her every word.
"And Mercy?" she went on. "The moment he saw you standing beside me, introducing yourself, bowing with respect even while covered in filth—he knew. He knew I was going to protect you. He didn't even question it. His instincts pulled him into this mess because he saw something in you. My husband had no choice—he followed me, like he always does. Edward? He has influence, but once Mercy joined in, he didn't hesitate either."
"And the guildmaster?" Lucius muttered.
"Dargan?" Sia chuckled softly. "You mean the one you once called an asshole? Him and Jhansi both joined in, not because they had to—but because your presence sparked a ripple. Like falling dominoes."
Lucius lowered his head, voice barely above a whisper. "But why...? I wasn't a prodigy. I was small, stupid… loud. I didn't have an element or class. I wasn't worth the risk."
Sia turned his face toward her with both hands, her gaze locking onto his.
"That may be how you saw yourself, but to me? You were worth everything the moment I laid eyes on you. Your courage, your resolve—however small—moved Ragnar. Your manners and quiet strength reached Mercy. You may not see it now, Lucius, but your worth isn't defined by abilities or status. You were—and still are—clever, kind, curious, stubborn, sharp, and yes, cute."
She gave him a gentle smile.
"And above all else? You're mine, Lucius. My little one."
A silence settled between them, profound and comforting.
"One day," Sia said, "you'll be forced to make a choice—not one of logic, but of instinct. That's when you'll finally understand us. Until then, stop letting this doubt eat you. We five—Mercy, Dargan, Jhansi, Edward and I—never once regretted risking ourselves for you. Even after all your reckless stunts."
Lucius sat still for a moment, something soft and steady blooming in his chest. Understanding. Acceptance. He gave her a small nod.
"Thank you."
Sia stood up with a satisfied smile, her eyes a little too shiny as she turned to leave. But just as she was about to close the door, Lucius called out.
"I've decided to take a break… from hunting. From adventuring."
Sia paused. "Why the sudden change?"
Lucius lifted his right arm. The skin was gashed, the wound deep and raw despite the mixture of portions and herbs he'd used to suppress swelling and odor. Her eyes widened instantly.
"Gods—Lucius," she hissed, rushing back to him. "Why didn't you say something?"
He chuckled softly. "Didn't think it was serious enough. You've seen worse."
"I have," she admitted, kneeling beside him with healing tools already out. "But I still hate seeing you like this."
Lucius looked at her, the woman who'd once thrown herself into danger without a second thought to shield a child she didn't know.
And finally, he believed her.
***
"Good morning, Sia," Sara and Lavya greeted their former instructor with a respectful bow.
Sia, who had just opened the door, offered a warm smile and gestured them inside without hesitation.
Lucius was already awake, standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes from the previous night. His movements were sluggish, distracted—clearly suffering from a lack of proper sleep. The wound he'd given himself wasn't helping. Still, to reassure Sia that it was nothing serious, he'd insisted on handling the chore. Now, he was beginning to regret it.
Both Sara and Lavya wore their usual adventuring uniforms: fitted, dark-grey full-sleeved gear built for mobility. Lavya had draped his signature black coat over his uniform, a rebellious choice against the traditional cloaks worn by knights. Sara, on the other hand, kept to tradition—a long cloak wrapped around her slim frame, guarding her against the chill that nipped the morning air.
Sia waved them toward the living room. Sara, spotting Lucius, went straight to him and kissed him softly on the cheek, wrapping her arms around him from the side—right where his injury was. A small, involuntary grunt slipped from Lucius's lips, one that didn't go unnoticed. Both Sia and Lavya narrowed their eyes. Lavya was the first to look away, masking his reaction behind a half-hidden frown. Sia, though, saw through it. She immediately understood that Lucius hadn't told Sara about the injury—and that if she found out, it'd cause a scene.
"Sara," Sia called out suddenly, "come give me a hand with something."
Sara blinked and turned her head, puzzled. "Of course," she replied, glancing back at Lucius with concern before heading over to Sia. Lucius let out a breath of relief, thankful for the rescue, and turned back to his dishes.
"Lavya, come in and join us," Sia said once Sara was out of earshot. "We have much to discuss."
"And share," Sara chimed in, smiling brightly as she returned to the living room.
One by one, they took their seats. Sara and Lavya settled in easily. Sia, ever the disciplined soldier, leaned back in her seat with military grace, her long coat now draped over her like a makeshift blanket despite sitting near the open window.
Lucius was still in the kitchen, far from the rest—but distance meant nothing. Mana-enhanced hearing made casual conversation easy across the house.
"So, who's going to start?" Sia asked, stretching.
As Lavya opened his mouth, preparing to speak, a voice cut in from the kitchen.
"Lavya still skips his close combat training."
Lavya froze. His prepared words died in his throat. He sat there, glaring toward the kitchen, mouthing curses under his breath. Sia turned toward him just in time to catch the tail end of his frustration.
Before he could lash out, she raised an eyebrow.
"Well? Is that true?" she asked, turning to Sara for confirmation.
Sara looked away, suddenly finding the floor incredibly interesting. She clearly wanted no part in this little skirmish.
"That's not true, Sia! Don't listen to that lesser mage of yours!" Lavya snapped.
The room went cold.
He knew it the moment the words left his mouth.
Both Sia and Sara hated that term—lesser mage—a demeaning label used by nobles to belittle those without elemental affinities, including knights who protected them.
Sia didn't speak. She didn't need to. Her mana surged like a storm, pulsing with restrained fury.
Before her force reached Lavya, Lucius stepped in.
"I don't mind," he said from the kitchen. "Let him call me what he wants. Why care about the mutterings of weaker mages?"
His tone was cold, his expression unreadable. That hurt more than any curse.
Sia slowly let her mana recede but made her stance clear.
"Lavya," she said, her voice now ice, "never use that word in my house again."
Lavya nodded stiffly, but his thoughts lingered on Lucius's cutting response.
Sara, visibly uncomfortable, jumped in to break the tension.
"Sister Sia, did you hear about the Warrior's Championship?!" she asked, her voice a little too enthusiastic.
Sia's expression softened as she looked toward her, the tension slowly melting away.
"Oh yes. Who didn't?" she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. "It's a shame you guys didn't get to watch it live."
"Watch it live? How?" Sara asked, curious.
"Well," Sia began, adjusting her coat, "this year's championship was supposed to be broadcast across the empire—to every region, city, and town. But the plan was dropped. Too many logistical hurdles, not enough funds, and the invasion into the last layers of the Outer Rim is already draining the empire's resources."
She paused, then smiled again. "Though I've heard the next one—twenty years from now—will be broadcast across the continent."
Sara slumped, disappointed at first… then leaned forward, intrigued.
Lucius entered the room with two cups of steaming coffee. He handed one to Sia, the other to Sara—before flipping his middle finger at Lavya and strolling back to get his own.
Sara giggled softly into her drink. Lavya just groaned.
"I wish I had qualified for the championship," Sara said between sips. "I really wanted to travel, see those grand cities you all keep talking about."
Lavya shot her a look, but said nothing. Lucius returned, draping his left arm around Sara's shoulders as he sat beside her.
"It might seem unfair," Sia said, "but there's a reason the Championship only involves the top institutes of Verdun and its capital cities. Most of the participants? They've already surpassed S or SS-rank. And that's not even counting their elemental affinities."
Sara and Lavya's eyes widened. That kind of power, from kids barely older than them… it was humbling.
Lucius, however, didn't seem fazed.
"I heard the winner was the heir of the Skydagger family… What was her name again?"
"Andromeda Skydagger," Sia replied before Sara could. "The sole heir of the Skydagger Dukedom. She's a once-in-a-generation prodigy. Her skills, swordplay, even her elemental affinity—it's all... unreal."
Lavya raised a brow. "You speak like you know her."
"I do," Sia said. "I was part of a specialized unit that protected her when she was a child. We spent a few months together when she was six."
That revelation hit both Sara and Lavya like a slap. Lucius already knew—but listened keenly all the same.
"The Skydaggers govern the central and central-western regions alongside the Imperial Family," Sia explained. "They've been allies of the Dredagons, who rule the central and eastern empire, for centuries. The Dredagons don't have a proper heir right now, but the Skydaggers have Andromeda."
"She was raised in complete secrecy. No one even knew she existed until she turned ten. And yet, she won the championship without being hit once—and without using her elemental powers."
Even Lucius raised an eyebrow at that.
"She's already been promised the title of Saintess," Sia continued. "Even above the Rodans, who rule the entire southern and most of the western region."
"I was given the chance to train her briefly. I taught her some of my sword techniques… Though I don't know if she still uses them. One of her strikes—just one—can level a small town."
The room went silent.
No one had any more questions.
Then—Lucius, ever Lucius—broke the silence.
"…Is she good-looking?"
Lavya nearly groaned aloud. Here we go again, he thought, shooting a look at Sara.
Sia tilted her head, trying to recall the girl's face. "She's royalty, Lucius. The blood of the First Emperor runs through her. Of course, she's—"
But before she could finish, Sara grabbed Lucius by the ear and yanked him toward her.
"Why do you wanna know what she looks like, huh?" she demanded, twisting his ear harder.
"Ack—Sara—! I was just curious!"
After a full minute of exaggerated begging, she finally let go. Lucius rubbed his ear dramatically, while the others looked on, amused.
Eventually, they all laughed it off.
The conversation shifted to lighter topics, the warmth of the morning finally settling in.