Twelve years had passed since that fateful day when Zeke awakened his soul, and the world he knew had grown both smaller and larger with time. At twenty years old, Zeke stood tall at 184 cm, his posture straight and composed. His short black hair was neatly styled, and his blue eyes—once filled with the innocence of youth—were now guarded, as though they had seen too much of the world's darkness. Today, like most days, he wore his formal school uniform: a crisp white shirt tucked neatly into dark trousers, a well-pressed blazer over it. The look suited him—a sharp, serious young man, though the weariness in his eyes betrayed the weight of the years.
Sitting at the small wooden desk in his room, Zeke stared down at the paper in front of him, its surface cluttered with several job offers from various factions in the city. The kingdom had been in a period of relative peace since the great war ended a few years ago, but stability had come at a price. Many of the old noble families were either struggling or scattered.
He took a sip from the steaming cup of coffee in his hand, his eyes still on the paper, though his mind wandered elsewhere. The choices laid out before him were all options for his future, but none of them truly inspired him. He had grown up with a sharp mind, but his interests were no longer about survival or ambition. What mattered now was... money. He couldn't afford to dream about anything else. There was no time for it.
Which path will bring me the most money? Zeke thought, setting the cup down with a faint sigh. As a child, he had always been a quiet observer. He didn't have the luxury of enjoying the carefree life of other children his age. Since his mother's death, he had taken on the role of caretaker, and it had shaped him in ways he didn't fully understand. His father, Matthias Lennox, had fallen deeper into alcoholism with each passing year, a slow decay that Zeke had done his best to ignore—at least until it became undeniable.
What can I do to help him? Zeke wondered, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. His father's strange behavior had escalated in the past few months. Matthias had been searching for something—Zeke wasn't sure what—and had grown irritable and paranoid when questioned about it. Zeke often found him rummaging through the house late at night, muttering to himself, or walking to the main guard station of Zeblax without a word. No one knew what he was doing, and Zeke didn't dare ask anymore.
But it wasn't just his father's odd behavior that troubled him. It was the distance between them. Once, Matthias had been a loving father, a man of principle. But since Ellen's suicide, he had become a stranger. Twelve years ago, when they brought experts to investigate what happened, they told the Lennox family the horrible truth—that Ellen had forced her soul to explode. Matthias didn't believe it. He refused to accept that she had killed herself, and since then, he had been searching for answers. But no results ever came from his search. His addiction and depression consumed him, leaving Zeke to pick up the pieces.
Zeke had learned to care for his little sister, Mia, while managing the upkeep of the house and even his father's sporadic demands. But the weight was getting too heavy.
Zeke was snapped from his thoughts as the door creaked open. Mia, his younger sister by four years, stepped inside, her expression drawn and tired. She wore a simple dress, and her usually bright eyes were clouded with worry. She hadn't been sleeping well lately—Zeke could see that. The bags under her eyes were a testament to the stress she carried.
"Zeke…" Mia's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm really scared about what's happening to Dad. No matter how much I talk to him, he never listens. He's always angry. He doesn't even look at me anymore."
Zeke felt a pang in his chest. His little sister had always been the one to try and keep their family together. Despite everything, Mia had held onto the hope that their father would snap out of his grief. But she was only a child, and Zeke had already learned the painful truth—that sometimes, no matter how much you tried, things didn't get better.
He stood up from his desk and walked over to her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. He looked down at her, smiling softly to mask the uncertainty in his own heart. "I know, Mia. I've seen it too. Dad's been doing the same thing to me. But don't worry, okay?"
Mia sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, looking up at him with hope in her gaze. "You always say that, but... how can you be so sure? I don't know what to do anymore."
Zeke sighed, glancing briefly at the paper on his desk. The choices before him were no less overwhelming, but right now, his focus needed to be on his family, not his own future. "I talked to Grandpa, remember? He didn't want to come, but... he agreed to let Grandma visit. She's going to be here this weekend."
Zeke came from a large noble family that resided in the capital city, but because his father had married someone of non-noble lineage, they had been cast out of the family.
Mia's face brightened instantly, and for the first time in weeks, a glimmer of hope returned to her expression. "Grandma! She's always been the one who could make Dad listen when no one else could. Maybe if she talks to him, he'll get better."
Zeke smiled, but it was bittersweet. I hope so, he thought. He could never be sure, not with Matthias's increasing irrationality. The man was slipping further away each day. But if Grandma's visit could bring even a moment of clarity to their broken family, he would take it.
"Yeah," Zeke said softly, though the doubt lingered in his voice. "I hope so too."
Mia hugged him tightly, resting her head on his chest. Zeke wrapped his arms around her in return, though his heart was heavy. He had promised himself that he would protect Mia—that he would be the one to fix everything. But sometimes, even he didn't know if that was possible. There were too many things pulling at him, too many forces outside of his control.
After a long moment, Mia pulled away, her expression more hopeful than before. "I'll wait for Grandma," she said, a quiet determination in her voice. "Maybe things will finally get better."
Zeke nodded, offering a reassuring smile, even though a part of him feared it might be too late. What if Grandma can't fix him? What if my father's descent into madness was inevitable? But he couldn't voice those thoughts—Mia needed hope.
"Let's just take it one step at a time, okay?" Zeke said softly.
Mia smiled, looking a little lighter than before.
As Zeke watched his sister leave the room, the weight of responsibility settled back onto his shoulders. He glanced at the choices on the paper again, but they seemed so irrelevant compared to the struggles at home. The money, the power, the prestige—none of it mattered as much as his family did.
But every time he saw his father in such a state, a fearful thought lingered: What if my mother's fall into madness was because of me?
The next day Zeke sat in his room, his eyes closed, bathed in the warm sunlight that streamed through the window. The rays felt like a familiar embrace, a gentle yet persistent reminder of the passage of time. He had always enjoyed the quiet moments in the morning, the ones where he could reflect, not just on his own growth, but on the things that weighed on him—the things he had no control over.
It was in these moments, when the sunlight reached him like a soft tide, that Zeke found himself remembering his mother's death. He remembered the shock, the fear, and the overwhelming sadness. But most of all, he remembered something else—something powerful that surged through him the moment he saw her hanging from that rope.
His soul had responded in a way he didn't fully understand, growing stronger in an instant. It was as though his very core had been shaken, and in that upheaval, something inside him had awakened—something beyond just a mere soul awakening.
Zeke hadn't fully realised it at the time, but in that moment, his soul had jumped from the first stage to the third. He didn't know how or why, but his teachers had confirmed it when he asked them years later. "Facing hardship is the best way to grow your soul," they had told him, explaining that hardship and trauma could fuel growth. "But to jump from Stage 1 to Stage 3 at such a young age... that's extremely rare."
When he asked his father about it, Matthias had given him a strange, almost uncomfortable look, as though he had wanted to say something, but had held back. Zeke never pushed the subject, feeling an odd tension in the air whenever his father was involved.
But after that,his growth slowed. Zeke had continued to train, gradually pushing his soul to greater heights, but it took years before he reached Level 12 of Soul Awakening. Now, sitting in the sunlight, he could feel it. His body felt lighter, more refined, as if every cell within him was in harmony with the energy surrounding him. The power was there, but it was subtle. He could control it now, hide it from view, even as his energy swirled around him like an invisible force.
Level 12, Zeke thought, a small smile tugging at his lips. Reaching Level 12 meant that he had already passed the qualifications to enter the next stage—Soul Manifestation. The path from Soul Awakening to Soul Manifestation was long and difficult. People in the Soul Manifestation stage were known for having an armour-like layer of soul energy surrounding them, as well as vast reserves of power.
Zeke had completed the first requirement: refining his body. He estimated that in about two months, he would officially reach Soul Manifestation, though he preferred to take things one step at a time. After all, Soul Awakening was the most important stage—it was the foundation. It purified the soul and the body, removing all impurities that could hinder one's growth.
He sighed, running his fingers through his short black hair as he stood. The sunlight continued to warm his skin as he stood up, his body glowing slightly with energy before he willed it away. He'd been training for hours, and now, it was time to check on his father.