...Oh my god.
Kevin stared blankly in the direction Scathach had disappeared, his heart pounding and his thoughts racing.
She knows I know her? When did I slip up?
The implications of her parting words rang loudly in his ears. Scathach's coyness made it clear—she knew Kevin recognized her. But when had she realized it? And, even more bewildering, why had she chosen to play along with him, toying with him like a cat with a cornered mouse?
Can she read my mind?! Kevin's body stiffened. No, that's impossible. If she could, I'd be long dead from calling her a BBA in my head!
Kevin rubbed his temples in frustration. The encounter left him drained, both physically and mentally. Glancing at the blood-soaked scene Scathach had left behind, he grimaced and quickly turned away.
The forest returned to its brutal natural order shortly after their departure. Without the suppressing aura of Scathach, predators crept back to the clearing, swiftly dividing the remnants of the bodies she had left behind. The violent cycle of survival continued, a mundane reality in this cruel era.
Kevin didn't look back. He had lost the will to continue training for the day and made his way home in silence, yearning for the solace of a hot bath and rest.
When Kevin reached his doorstep, however, he was greeted by an unexpected sight.
"Grandpa Kesba? Why are you here?"
An elderly man, neither a stranger nor a close acquaintance, stood at his door, his hand raised mid-knock. At Kevin's voice, he turned, his wrinkled face breaking into a kind smile.
"Kevin," Kesba greeted warmly. "It's been a while."
Kesba, the biological father of Cu Chulainn's mother Dechtire, was both Kevin's adoptive grandfather and a renowned druid in service to King Conchieber. His presence here, unannounced, was a surprise.
Despite his curiosity, Kevin quickly masked his thoughts. "Come in, Grandpa Kesba." He opened the door and ushered the druid inside, offering him tea and a plate of pastries he had baked earlier.
Initially, Kesba had intended to stay only briefly, but after tasting one of Kevin's pastries, his plans changed.
"Even though I've tasted your cooking many times, I must say you've outdone yourself." Kesba chuckled, his approval evident as he savored another bite. "No wonder King Conchieber keeps talking about summoning you to the palace."
Kevin smiled modestly. "The ingredients I use are gifts from my father. I can't take full credit."
Kesba's sharp gaze lingered on Kevin for a moment. He knew better than to believe that statement. As a powerful druid, Kesba was well aware of Kevin's resourcefulness and ingenuity.
After a few more bites, Kesba leaned back in his chair, his demeanor shifting slightly. "Kevin, I didn't come here for Cu Chulainn," he said suddenly, his tone carrying weight. "I came to see you."
"Me?" Kevin blinked, caught off guard. Scathach's image immediately surfaced in his mind, and he stifled a groan.
What is it with today? First Scathach, now Kesba?
"Yes." Kesba studied Kevin carefully, his eyes twinkling with understanding. "Tell me, did you just return from the Yali Forest?"
Kevin nodded cautiously. "I did."
"Good boy," Kesba said, his voice softening. He motioned for Kevin to sit beside him and reached out to ruffle the boy's hair.
Kesba's mind drifted to a prophecy he had spoken long ago:
"There is a boy who will become a great warrior the day he takes up a weapon. His name will live forever in Erin, but he will die young."
Cu Chulainn was that boy, a prodigy destined for greatness yet bound by the cruel inevitability of fate.
Kesba knew Kevin understood this prophecy, even if it had never been spoken directly to him. It was evident in Kevin's relentless efforts to improve himself. For three years, Kevin had pushed himself, training tirelessly, not just to catch up to Cu Chulainn but to somehow change the trajectory of fate itself.
But no matter how hard Kevin worked, Kesba could see the truth. Kevin was ordinary. Even with the divine fruit bolstering his foundation and Ruger's magic sword at his side, Kevin's talents were far outstripped by the gods, heroes, and legends that populated this era.
And yet, he persisted.
"You've done well," Kesba said finally, his voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. "But take care not to lose yourself in your pursuit. You have your own path to walk, Kevin, not just Cu Chulainn's shadow."
After a long conversation filled with subtle guidance, Kesba took his leave. As he walked away, Kevin remained seated, staring after him with furrowed brows. What was that all about?
Unbeknownst to Kevin, Kesba returned to the castle that evening and scolded Cu Chulainn and Connor mercilessly for hours. The two eventually swore a Geis—an unbreakable vow—never to repeat their reckless antics again.
Later that night, Cu Chulainn returned home, his demeanor sheepish and his steps uncharacteristically hesitant.
"Cu Chulainn," Kevin called as they sat outside under the moonlight. The two perched on a large rock, gazing up at the stars as a cool breeze swept through the quiet night.
"Hmm?" Cu Chulainn glanced at Kevin curiously.
"Why did you save me three years ago?" Kevin asked softly. "And why did you call me your brother back then?"
Cu Chulainn tilted his head, surprised by the sudden question.
"There wasn't any deep reason," he admitted after a moment. "You were in danger, so I helped. That's all."
Kevin looked at him skeptically.
"Okay, maybe…" Cu Chulainn hesitated, scratching his cheek. "I had a weird feeling about you. Like I was supposed to protect you."
Kevin's expression softened slightly.
"By the way," Cu Chulainn added, his tone lightening, "what was up with your eyes back then? They were… different."
Kevin hesitated, recalling the mysterious voice he'd heard that day. "I don't know," he admitted finally. "Maybe a magic eye of some sort?"
The next morning, Kevin left Ulster, his mind heavy with thoughts.
For a month, Kevin returned daily to a secluded spot outside the forest, practicing diligently while waiting for someone. He hunted when he was hungry, but his true purpose was singular and unwavering.
Finally, one afternoon, as Kevin swung his sword through the air in repetitive strikes, a familiar voice broke the silence.
"Little warrior," the voice teased.
Kevin froze, his grip tightening on the sword. Turning slowly, he saw her—a tall, striking figure lounging in the shade of a tree. Her dark purple-red hair cascaded like silk, her crimson eyes softer than he remembered.
"What are you doing?" Scathach asked, her tone amused.
Kevin set down his sword, wiping sweat from his brow. "Waiting for someone," he replied, his voice calm.
"And who might that be?"
Kevin met her gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Scathach."
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