The glowing letters hung in the air like a verdict.
[Resonance Rank: SSS]
Hugo stared blankly at it for an unknown amount of time.
The light from the floating text pulsed faintly against the dark of his basement, tinting the walls an icy blue. Dust motes drifted lazily in that glow, swirling as though time itself had slowed to make room for his disbelief.
The world felt too quiet now, as if every ordinary sound had stepped back, unsure how to coexist with what had just happened.
Hugo's throat felt dry. "Is this— some kind of prank?"
His own voice sounded strange in his ears — thinner, unsure, like it didn't belong in the same room as that glowing declaration.
He turned toward the table.
Randalf sat there again, perched among the wreckage of half-eaten cake, robe crumpled, crumbs clinging to his fur.
His small, clawed hands moved with deliberate grace, cutting into the slice as if performing a sacred rite. His eyes were half-closed, humming faintly in satisfaction. The robe's hem pooled around him like a miniature throne.
The Lich froze mid-bite the instant Hugo spoke.
A crumb hung from his whisker, and one ear twitched — guilty, caught. Then, in a motion so absurdly formal it almost worked, Randalf set the spoon down and brushed his paws clean.
"I was merely… ensuring its structural integrity, Master," he said, voice muffled with misplaced importance.
Hugo looked back at the floating message, the glow reflecting faintly in his pupils. "[Water Affinity: SSS Grade]," he murmured again, tasting the words like they might vanish if he said them too loudly.
Then, to Randalf: "You—what did you do?"
Randalf tilted his head, as if the question itself was relevant. "I didn't do much actually master, your body already had the capability and just needed a little push and i helped with that. Your mortal system responded accordingly."
What the racoon said made no sense to Hugo even though there was technically sense in it.
"..."
"You…" Hugo began, voice thin. "What exactly are you?"
Randalf straightened, brushing crumbs from his robe with deliberate grace. His eyes gleamed faintly — not from the light, but something deeper, something old.
"I am a Lich, Master," he said with solemn pride. "A Lich of the Twenty-Fourth Circle of Eternum, wielder of death and time."
He lifted his tiny fist dramatically. "A being of vast power and a newfound impeccable taste in pastry."
Hugo stared speechlessly. The silence that followed was heavy enough to fold space.
The damn thing was still shamelessly devouring the crumbs from the cake while talking about vast power.
******
It took Hugo a while to calm down.
Not entirely calm — more like he'd accepted, in the shallowest sense, that reality had just shredded all expectation and glued it back together in a form that made no sense whatsoever.
Hugo didn't know what to feel.
For the first time in a while, excitement hovered somewhere beneath the numbness — a small flicker he hadn't felt in years, buried under apathy and endless disappointment. He stared at the SSS rank hovering in his status window. Blue light reflected off the dust on the desk, pooling in little uneven patches on the floor.
He whispered to himself, "Okay… calm down. Focus."
Then, louder, to Randalf: "So what else can you do?"
Randalf adjusted his tiny cape. "Whatever you desire, Master. Within certain… constraints."
"Constraints?"
"I cannot fight for you," he said simply.
Hugo blinked. "Why not?"
"The Laws," Randalf replied, tone grave. "Higher beings cannot directly harm lower ones. Intervention is restricted. What I did for you — the fixing… well, that didn't count."
Hugo frowned. "Higher being. Right. So you're what, exactly? On a scale of… me to a god?"
Randalf pondered, gaze distant. Then, in perfect seriousness: "I could probably unmake a thousand of your worlds stacked together before breakfast."
Hugo's mouth opened, then closed again.
"…Oh. That high on the scale, then."
Randalf gave a modest nod. "Modestly high."
Hugo's fingers twitched. A part of him wanted to keep asking — about the resonance raise, about the SSS rank, about why him. He was halfway to saying something else when—
"HUGO!"
His mother's voice, sharp and very much human, cut through the air like a whip.
He froze, his heart doing an Olympic sprint.
Then: "WHAT IN THE WORLD HAPPENED TO MY TOMATOES?!"
"Shit," he whispered, eyes darting to Randalf.
The Lich blinked innocently, crumbs clinging to his whiskers. "Should I greet her, Master?"
"No! Hide!" Hugo hissed. "She hates rodents"
Randalf tilted his head. "I am not a rodent, I am a—"
"Hide!"
After saying that, he sprinted upstairs.
His mother stood in the garden, holding one mutilated tomato like evidence in a crime scene. Her face was a study in disbelief and righteous fury.
"Mom," Hugo started, forcing his breath steady.
She turned, eyes narrowing. "What happened to my tomatoes?"
He forced a nervous laugh. "Uh… raccoon. I caught it eating them earlier."
The lie rolled off smoother than he expected. Half-truths always did.
She frowned, squinting toward the bushes, then sighed — the anger bleeding into resignation. "Figures. Those little thieves…"
She set the half-eaten tomato down gently, as if it were wounded. "Next time, chase it off before it gets half the garden."
"I did," he said quickly. "Trust me."
She gave a tired nod and walked back inside. The tension in his shoulders eased — until she spoke again, tone softer now, trying for casual.
"So," she said as she unpacked groceries, "how did it go? You tore the token already, right?"
Her back was turned, but he could hear the worry in her voice. She wanted to sound indifferent — like it didn't matter if her son awakened weak — but it cracked around the edges.
It always did.
"Yeah," he said quietly, sitting down. "I tore it."
"And?" she asked, still facing the counter.
"My resonance was... B ranked," he said, keeping his tone careful — hopeful, but grounded.
The knife in her hand froze mid-slice. For a heartbeat, the house went utterly still.
She turned slowly, eyes wide. "You aren't joking joking with me are you?"
Hugo gave a small smile. "Mom, since when did i joke around? I got a B rank resonance. For real."
The air seemed to collapse between them.
Then, all at once, she screamed — joy, disbelief, pride all tangled together — and ran to him. She wrapped him in a fierce hug that smelled faintly of soap and tomato leaves.
Her voice shook. "Oh, Hugo… my boy, you actually did it."
He froze, unsure how to respond, but his chest tightened painfully. She was trembling, her joy raw and overwhelming. For a moment, he didn't see the tired nurse or the overworked woman from the hospital. Just his mother — who had kept fighting long after the world gave her every reason not to.
He hugged her back, awkward but sincere. "Yeah," he whispered. "We did it."
When she finally stepped back, wiping at her tears, her smile still trembled with excitement. "We have to celebrate," she said, half-laughing, half-crying. "I need to tell Barns — he'll get you into their domain! Oh, this is wonderful. You'll finally have your chance."
She turned toward her bag, fumbling for her phone. Hugo watched her, expression unreadable. The warmth of her happiness pressed against the cold knot of the truth in his chest.
B-rank.
He still wasn't sure about what was going on and why it was, so until he had more answers he was going to keep the craziness to himself.
"Yeah," he murmured under his breath as he headed for the basement again. "My chance."
The door closed softly behind him.