Morning light spilled through the tall windows of Happy Happy, painting the shop in shades of amber and gold.
The space had changed in four years.
What had once been a modest two-story establishment now sprawled across an entire block, connected buildings merged into a seamless complex. The main shop still occupied the front—shelves lined with glowing vials, herbs bundled from the rafters, the scent of alchemical compounds thick in the air. But behind it now lay a workshop, a storage facility, private consultation rooms, and living quarters that could house a small family.
Or, in this case, a small army.
The bell above the door chimed as the first customer of the day entered—a merchant from the middle districts, clutching a prescription slip. One of the apprentices—a young woman of nineteen with sharp eyes and capable hands—greeted him with practiced courtesy.
"Welcome to Happy Happy. Please have a seat. Someone will be with you shortly."
The merchant nodded and settled onto one of the cushioned benches, glancing around with barely concealed awe. Even after four years, people still whispered about this place. About the boy who'd built it from nothing. About the medicines that healed what others couldn't. About the children he'd saved who now worked alongside him.
In the back workshop, the sound of grinding herbs and bubbling cauldrons created a rhythmic hum. Three more apprentices worked there—two girls and a boy, all between fourteen and sixteen. They moved with quiet efficiency, measuring powders, sealing vials, their hands steady from years of practice.
At the center of it all, standing before a workbench scattered with ingredients and alchemical tools, was Jade.
He'd grown.
At fourteen, he stood taller—not quite adult height yet, but close. His frame was slender, graceful, the kind of build that suggested speed over strength but carried a hidden resilience. His silver-white hair had grown longer, falling past his back in a silken cascade that caught the light like moonlit water. He'd tied the top half back with a black ribbon, leaving the rest to flow freely.
His face had lost some of its childish softness, features sharpening into something that made people stop and stare. High cheekbones. A delicate jawline. Skin so pale it seemed to glow faintly in the workshop's dim light. And his eyes—those strange silver eyes that held too much depth, too much knowing—remained as unsettling and beautiful as ever.
Even with Spectra's Band masking his true nature, people still looked twice.
Ethereal, they called him. Angelic.
And Jade found it deeply irritating.
He measured out a precise amount of crystallized moonpetal, adding it to the mixture simmering in his cauldron. The liquid turned from pale blue to shimmering violet, releasing a faint, sweet aroma.
Behind him, one of the apprentices—a girl named Kessa, eighteen, with auburn hair and a C-rank earth manipulation talent—approached hesitantly.
"Master Jade? The shipment from Sector Eight arrived. Should I have them unload in the usual place?"
Jade glanced over his shoulder, nodding. "Yes. And check the quality before signing off. Last time they tried to pass off D-grade firevine as B-grade."
Kessa grinned. "I'll make them regret it if they try again."
"I'm sure you will."
She hurried off, and Jade returned his attention to the cauldron. The potion was nearly complete—a high-grade restorative, ordered by a wealthy client in the administrative district. Three more hours of careful refinement, and it would be ready.
His hands moved with practiced precision, muscle memory built over years of repetition. This was his rhythm now. Wake before dawn. Work until noon. Train in the afternoon. Work again until evening. Sleep. Repeat.
It was... peaceful.
Mostly.
The door to the workshop swung open, and Lio entered, carrying a crate of sealed vials.
He'd grown too—seventeen now, tall and broad-shouldered, with the lean muscle of someone who trained regularly. His dark hair was longer, tied back in a short tail, and his face had matured, losing the boyish roundness.
But his grin was still the same—bright, genuine, exasperating.
"Morning, Jade!" he called cheerfully, setting the crate down. "Got the delivery for the clinic in Sector Five. Want me to take it over after lunch?"
Jade didn't look up from his work. "Take Miren with you. She needs the experience."
"Got it." Lio leaned against the counter, watching Jade work. "You know, you've been at that for three hours straight. You should take a break."
"I'll break when it's done."
"That's what you always say."
"And I'm always right."
Lio snorted. "Stubborn as ever."
Jade's lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. "Says the person who tried to lift a crate twice his weight last week and threw out his back."
"That was one time—"
"You couldn't walk for two days."
"I was fine—"
"Amara had to carry you to bed."
Lio's ears turned red. "Okay, fine, point taken." He crossed his arms, still grinning. "But seriously, you've been working nonstop for weeks. Even the apprentices are starting to worry."
"They shouldn't."
"Well, they do. So does Niamh. And Selene. And—"
"Everyone worries too much," Jade interrupted, finally lifting his gaze. His silver eyes fixed on Lio with mild exasperation. "I'm fine, Lio."
Lio studied him for a moment, then sighed. "You know that's exactly what someone who's not fine says, right?"
Jade turned back to his cauldron. "Then it's a good thing I actually mean it."
Lio shook his head, still smiling. "Alright, alright. I'll leave you to your potion. But don't blame me when Niamh drags you away for lunch."
"She won't."
"She absolutely will."
"I'll be done by then."
"You won't, and she will, and you'll complain the entire time." Lio pushed off the counter, heading for the door. "I'll take bets if you want."
Jade ignored him.
Lio laughed and left, the door swinging shut behind him.
For a moment, the workshop was silent except for the bubbling of cauldrons and the faint rustle of herbs.
Jade exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.
Four years.
It had been four years since that night. Since the cages. Since Fourteen.
The city had changed. Happy Happy had grown from a modest shop into something resembling an institution. The the fifteen children he'd savedhad healed, grown, thrived. Mostly.
Some worked here as apprentices. Others had moved on to different paths but still visited regularly.
Mira, Fourteen's sister, was seventeen now. She'd awakened a C-rank healing talent at twelve and had become one of Jade's most skilled apprentices. She still carried grief—probably always would—but she smiled more now. Laughed sometimes. Lived.
That had to count for something.
The executions had sent shockwaves through the city. For months afterward, the upper districts had been in chaos. Families scrambling to distance themselves from the accused, officials launching investigations, old alliances crumbling. Kael had been ruthless, dismantling networks that had operated for decades.
It hadn't stopped everything. Jade knew that. Maren's last words had been right—there would always be others. New predators filling the void left by the old.
But for now, at least, the children of Nexus could sleep a little easier.
And Jade...
Jade had leveled up.
Literally.
He'd gained so much experience from that night—from the mercenaries, the specialists, the handlers—that his system had chimed repeatedly, notifications flooding his vision until he'd dismissed them in frustration.
By the time the dust settled, he'd jumped from Level 70 to Level 80.
The four years since had been quieter, but he'd still grown. Training with Gorvoth. Experimenting with his abilities. Taking on increasingly difficult dungeon runs in secret.
Level 90 now.
Jade set his stirring rod aside and pulled up his status screen with a thought. The familiar translucent display materialized before him, glowing faintly in the dim workshop.
[DING!]
[STATUS]
Name: Jade
Age: 14 years old
Level: 90
EXP: 8,450/50,000
STR: 140
AGI: 145
INT: 265
STA: 175
HP: 50,000
MP: 50,000
Stat Points: 37
Skill Points: 12
TALENTS:
Divine Soul Dual Pupils [EX]
Ice and Snow Manipulation [SS]
BLOODLINES:
Yin Phoenix Bloodline [Unique]
Void Belgusari [God Tier]
SKILLS:
Glossomancy [A]
Cryokinesis
Basic Weapon Mastery
Advanced Healing
Belgusari's Hunger [A]
Advanced Ice Manipulation
Teleportation [S]
Frozen Aura
Seed of Darkness
Void Sense
Darkness Sense
Clairvoyance [A]
Shadow Travel [A]
ARTIFACTS:
Spectra's Band [SS]
INVENTORY:
[Expand for contents]
QUESTS:
Win the Tenday Tournament
Status: Incomplete
Duration: 3 years remaining
Rewards: Nyx's Kiss
.....
Jade stared at the display, lips pressing into a thin line.
Level 90. Stats that would make most A-rank awakeners weep with envy. Skills that spanned multiple elements and abilities that shouldn't exist together.
And yet.
Still an omega, he thought bitterly. Still cursed by that damn goddess.
I hate her.
I hate her so much.
He dismissed the panel with perhaps more force than necessary, the screen flickering out of existence.
She's definitely somewhere mocking me.
He took a slow, calming breath.
It's fine. I'm fine. I'll just... deal with it when it happens. And then I'll find a way to punch a goddess.
"Jade?"
He nearly jumped.
Niamh stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Her silver and green hair was tied back in a practical braid, and she wore the simple but well-made clothing of someone who'd long since stopped caring about fashion in favor of function.
But her eyes were sharp, knowing, motherly and fixed on him with the kind of look that said she knew exactly what he'd been doing.
"You've been in here for four hours," she said mildly. "Without eating."
"I'm almost done—"
"That's what you said two hours ago when Amara checked on you." Niamh stepped into the workshop, her presence filling the space with warm authority. "The potion will keep. You won't if you don't eat."
"Niamh—"
"Kitchen. Now."
It wasn't a request.
Jade sighed, recognizing defeat when it stared him in the face. He carefully banked the flames beneath his cauldron, preserving the potion's progress, and followed Niamh out of the workshop.
As they walked through the corridor toward the living quarters, Niamh glanced at him sidelong.
"You've been working yourself too hard lately," she said quietly. "More than usual."
"I have orders to fill—"
"You have apprentices to fill them," Niamh interrupted gently. "You don't have to do everything yourself anymore, Jade. You've trained them well. Trust them."
Jade said nothing, jaw tightening slightly.
Niamh stopped, turning to face him fully. Her hand reached up, cupping his cheek—a gesture so familiar, so safe, that Jade felt something in his chest loosen despite himself.
"I know why you're doing this," she said softly. "You think if you stay busy enough, you won't have to think about what's coming. But sweetheart... it's going to happen whether you're ready or not."
Jade's stomach dropped.
Oh no.
Please, no.
Not this conversation again.
"Niamh—"
"We need to talk about your heat, Jade."
There it is.
Jade closed his eyes, praying for patience. "Niamh, we've had this conversation seventeen times in the last month—"
"And we'll have it seventeen more if that's what it takes," Niamh said firmly. "You're fourteen now. It could happen any day. You need to be prepared."
"I am prepared—"
"You're in denial," Niamh corrected, steering him toward the kitchen. "Which is why Selene and I are going to sit you down and explain—"
"Selene?!" Jade's voice cracked slightly. "You told Selene?!"
"Of course I told Selene," Niamh said, utterly unrepentant. "She's an omega too. She understands what you're going through. And she cares about you."
"Niamh, I really don't need—"
They rounded the corner into the kitchen.
And stopped.
Because sitting at the table, teacup in hand, smile bright and dangerous, was Selene.
She looked up, her emerald eyes gleaming with unholy glee.
"Good morning, my darling Jade," she purred. "Come. Sit. We have so much to discuss."
Jade stared at her.
Then at Niamh.
Then back at Selene.
I'm going to die.
They're going to lecture me to death.
Curse you, Goddess. This is your fault.
...