Kael Lanpar's POV
(Present day)
The rancid stench of sweat was so thick in the air it felt almost alive. In front of me stretched a place that looked more like a cell than a bedroom.
Cracked walls, worn to exhaustion, were coated in mold and overtaken by a web of creeping vines from some strange plant that emitted a faint green glow, breathing softly in the dark.
I couldn't understand how this miserable, foreign place was supposed to become my home from now on. My face twisted into an involuntary grimace, and with the few words I managed to gather, I tried to find some explanation that justified such a disaster.
"You're not serious…" I muttered, swallowing hard.
A second later, I had to cover my nose. The smell was so overwhelming it started turning my stomach.
"How am I supposed to live here?" I whispered. "This is a dump."
Aiza leaned against the doorway, watching me twist between panic and disgust. She let out a soft laugh the moment she heard me, not bothering to hide it.
She didn't even try to hold it back. She was openly mocking me.
"Now I see you're one of those pampered nobles," she said, stepping forward with calm confidence. "You should never look down on a place that at least has a roof and a bed."
Before I could reply, I felt a sharp flick hit my forehead. I rubbed the spot immediately, still feeling the sting of her finger.
Why does everyone love hitting me? I grumbled internally.
When I lifted my head to answer her, Aiza had already turned around and was walking out of the room, heading into the mansion's polished hallways.
I hurried after her, moving from darkness into light, but she halted my steps with a few firm, clear words—cutting off any attempt to escape.
"I'll get someone to clean this place," she said as she continued walking. "I won't be long. In the meantime, get settled in your new room."
I let out a sigh of resignation and slumped against the wall. I slid down until I was sitting on the rough floor.
It was almost ridiculous—the difference between that room and the hallway was vast. Where I sat, shadows clung to everything, but outside, sunlight filtered in warm and gentle, filling the air with serenity.
Even the smell was different. The sweet scent of Castiol—a wild plant from the human forests—drifted through the corridor, wrapping the place in a comforting fragrance. A small fragment of home I didn't realize I'd been yearning for.
"You look deep in thought, boy," Vastiar's voice echoed in my mind. "What's bothering you?"
It took effort to answer.
I hadn't felt well in a long time. Matías's words still haunted my memory, and the idea that he'd return someday hung over me like a clock around my neck, reminding me every second that time was on his side… not mine.
Almost without thinking, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a card that released a faint mana pulse from its fibers.
I gently brushed my fingers over the thin, transparent layer protecting it, staring at my reflection and at the name engraved on its surface.
Black Card
Name: Kael Lanpar
Age: 7
Rank: Ranked
Description:
Son of the royal human family, sent to the elven kingdom's Adventurer Guild to improve his magical skills and knowledge.
His current level is not sufficient for a higher rank within the guild, but by order of Lord Dirion and Lady Aiza, he has been placed in the Oldfire squadron.
Without realizing it, tears began slipping down my cheeks, falling onto the card between my fingers. Suddenly it felt heavier, as if it carried the weight of my entire story.
"I'm scared, Vastiar," I whispered, hugging myself tightly. "I try to be strong, but I'm not enough to stop him."
For a few seconds, silence filled my mind. There I was—alone—surrounded only by the hollow echo of my thoughts, swallowing the bitterness of being weak both in body and in spirit.
"Easy, boy," Vastiar answered, his voice tinged with sadness. "I know you'll manage. It's just another challenge."
"You deserve more from this life than you think," he added, a faint spark of hope behind his words.
Trying to pull myself together, I gently wiped away my tears as a distant murmur began to rise from deep within the hallway.
With some effort, I pushed myself up, resting one hand on my leg; the heat of my crying still lingered on my cheeks.
"Looks like you've got company, boy," Vastiar's voice faded as if drifting backward through the air. "We'll talk later."
I took a breath and tried to pretend nothing was wrong, sculpting a blank expression on my face, forgetting for a moment that I was still just a child.
"I think this was the room," a deep voice rumbled. "I don't really remember where it is."
"You're an idiot. How do you forget where we live?" a woman snapped back, irritated.
I slowly turned my head… and there they were. At the corner of the hallway, three figures froze the moment they saw me. Something—an instinct I couldn't name—told me these people would be appearing in my life far more often than I'd like.
Two guys and a girl, maybe nine years older than me. Their outfits didn't match, but each of them wore a thick gold chain with an emblem I recognized instantly. They definitely weren't from a humble family.
By pure habit, I bowed my head. They mirrored the gesture without looking away, as if it were some shared reflex.
A chill ran down my spine, and I barely had time to widen my eyes before the girl suddenly rushed toward me. My body didn't even react. She wrapped me in a firm embrace—unexpectedly comforting.
I was still sniffling, so I could guess what had triggered such an impulsive hug.
"Who's this kid supposed to be?" one of the guys muttered. "What's he doing here?"
The tallest of the three stepped forward with heavy footsteps. He crouched down to pick up the card I had dropped.
"Looks like he's the member we were missing," he said, his voice deep and intimidating.
He lifted his gaze from the card and stared straight at me. His dull eyes and almost entirely covered face didn't inspire much trust… until he did something unexpected.
With a gentleness that didn't match his appearance, he ruffled my hair and leaned down to meet my height.
His breath carried a faint trace of the same rancid smell from the room, though I chose to ignore it.
"Welcome to the team, kid," he said, still messing up my hair. "Name's Zeitra Ocara."
He raised a hand to point at the other two.
"These are my siblings: Emira and Soka."
The girl finally loosened her embrace. I realized my cheeks were no longer swollen. She held me by the shoulders and gave me a warm smile, which I returned with some effort.
"Why were you crying, little one?" she asked softly.
I couldn't tell them the truth, so I went for a simple lie, even though I knew it probably wouldn't work.
"I'm… nervous," I stammered. "I want—"
"You're lying, kid," Soka cut in from down the hallway. "Your body shows fear, not nerves."
He clicked his tongue.
"You can't lie to me. A sensor doesn't make mistakes."
Before I could respond, Zeitra straightened abruptly. He marched toward his brother with firm steps and, in one swift movement, grabbed him by the hair.
A bead of sweat slid down my forehead as I watched him drag Soka over until he stood right beside us.
"You'd better behave," Zeitra growled, pointing at me. "He's the human king's son. He's not just anyone."
Trying to calm himself, Zeitra clenched his free hand so tightly his knuckles turned white. The veins beneath his skin stood out like living roots, pulsing with restrained anger.
For a moment, I froze. A thin trickle of blood slipped out from between his closed fingers, as if it had pierced through his own skin without him noticing. I didn't understand what was happening or why his temper had burst so violently.
"They're fighting again," Emira whispered, exhaustion dripping from her voice. "I'm going to the room to drop off our things… do you want to come with me?"
"Yeah, I just need to grab my bag," I answered, stepping back with a smile that felt more like a mask than anything genuine.
As I turned around, I couldn't help but think about Zeitra's sudden outburst. His mood had shifted so drastically it left me uneasy. I didn't even need to invoke my astral magic to see the reddish heat radiating from his aura.
Wait…
I knew that energy perfectly. It was far too similar to something of mine… too close to my own corrupted awakening.
I looked at my fist, troubled, and the thought that Zeitra might have an awakening like mine pushed me to turn around and ask him. I never got the chance: a scream erupted from inside the room.
"What is this trash heap!?" Emira's sharp voice echoed loudly. "What the hell happened in here!?"
I wasn't surprised by what caused her scream. What did unsettle me was seeing Zeitra's eyes shift for a second.
A brief flicker… but enough to watch his pupil change from blue to dark green. One blink, and it was gone.
My uneasiness grew. I no longer knew if I could trust them. And the strangest part was that the feeling didn't seem to be about them… but about myself.
When I watched them enter the room, I followed closely behind, picking up my suitcase from the golden, polished floor of the hallway before stepping inside again.
"What the hell…" Soka muttered, shooting Zeitra a cold glare. "These are your damn plants."
"They are," Zeitra replied, placing his hand on the wall covered in vines and mold.
From his palm, a faint white glow emerged—soft at first—then spreading into the plants. The greenish tint shifted into a bright, vivid white.
Within seconds, the vines began to wither. They cracked, fell to the floor, and disintegrated into dust as soon as they touched the air.
Zeitra swept his hand, and a sudden gust slammed into the window, forcing it open. The wind carried the brittle dust outside in a smooth, swirling current.
Incredible…
If there was something I still couldn't fully grasp about this world, it was how quickly everything could change.
For some reason, the room transformed. The fresh scent of morning drifted through the open window, sweeping away the stale, damp air.
As if the place had a life of its own, the cracked walls began to repair themselves. Fissures closed one by one, fitting together like pieces returning to their natural place with impossible precision.
"You're the one who left the room like this," I said before thinking. "Why did you do it?"
"There's a lot you don't understand, kid," he replied with a calm smile as he started walking toward me. "You still have much to learn—that's why you're here."
I thought he was approaching me, but when he walked past, I froze in confusion.
He knelt down calmly, placing one knee on the floor, and reached his hand under one of the beds.
I was left speechless when I saw what he pulled out. A tiny creature, barely the size of a mouse standing on two legs. It looked like a sprite, though nothing like the ones I had read about in the royal library. This one… for some reason wore glasses.
"Ki… ki… kiso fato," the little sprite croaked. "By my grandfather's beard! Why are you waking me up at this hour, Zeitra?"
Still watching him, I noticed when he became aware of my presence. His eyes widened in surprise, and he immediately wriggled out of Zeitra's grip.
Once free, he climbed up Zeitra's arm and perched on his shoulder. Then he stared at me intently, a mix of disbelief and fascination in his gaze.
"How curious…" his voice echoed with an odd resonance. "It's the first time in a hundred years I've seen a human child."
His tiny eyes gleamed.
"That look… that pure soul," he added, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it. "Without a doubt, boy, you weren't raised in war."
Still focused on the little sprite, my senses picked up the sound of familiar footsteps approaching from the hallway.
It didn't take long before Aiza appeared at the doorway, holding a broom like it was a weapon. Her bitter expression said everything.
"I see the problem's been solved," she said, dropping the broom with a sharp thud that echoed through the room. "Good to know my squad is already getting acquainted."
The mischievous smirk curling on her lips told me whatever was coming out of her mouth next wouldn't be anything pleasant.
Silence took over my mind for a moment, and I could only think of him.
"Matías, I know you're listening to me from somewhere far away," I whispered, my voice slightly broken despite my attempt to hide it. "I won't let you come back. I'll spill my last drop of blood here, in this world... in my home."
I lowered my head discreetly, staring at the polished wooden floor. My tears fell there—not from pain, but from hope. A distant hope… yet beautiful all the same.