"Sir, this is my wife, Maria Rontera, and my only son, Ashan. He's seven years old now," Leone said with pride.
Solomon, the esteemed Archmage, turned his gaze to the boy. Ashan's composed expression and calm, unyielding eyes were unlike anything Solomon had encountered.
What an extraordinary child, Solomon thought. Most children look awestruck or fearful when they meet me, but this one… no fear, no surprise. His aura is astonishing—strong yet eerily steady, like an unshakable shield.
Though intrigued, Solomon smiled warmly and lowered his head slightly. Reaching out, he gently ruffled Ashan's hair.
"You have your father's face," Solomon said, his voice kind, "but your eyes—they belong to your mother."
Suddenly, Solomon froze. His mind blanked, and his body refused to obey him.
What is happening? Solomon panicked. Where am I?
Realization struck him like lightning: he had accidentally entered the boy's mind.
So this is his mental realm… Time flows differently here. Even if I spend an hour, only seconds will pass outside.
The black fog surrounding him dissipated as Solomon clapped his hands. What appeared next stunned him beyond comprehension.
A pitch-black sea stretched infinitely beneath a sky that shimmered with ethereal, vibrant colors—a heavenly vista. Separating the black sea from another, glistening ocean of radiant water was a colossal wall of light, golden and pure, extending endlessly into the horizon.
How can a child possess such a mindscape? This… This defies reason, Solomon thought, his astonishment growing.
As he stepped onto the radiant wall, his mental form began to shine, infused with an overwhelming sense of peace and strength.
This is willpower… he realized, his breath catching. Such extraordinary willpower in someone so young. It feels like standing in the presence of divinity.
Drawn by curiosity, Solomon reached toward the black sea. A single drop of its dark waters leaped into his palm, searing his mental form with unbearable agony.
"AAAAAHHH!" Solomon screamed in his mind, overwhelmed by the torment.
In that single drop was a fragment of Ashan's past lives—countless centuries of suffering and anguish compressed into an unrelenting tide of pain.
This… This is beyond human comprehension, Solomon thought as his consciousness was violently ejected from Ashan's mind.
When he returned to reality, Leone's concerned voice reached him. "Sir, is something wrong?"
Solomon, drenched in sweat, his body trembling, forced a weak smile. "No… It's nothing. I must be tired."
Maria chimed in, her voice warm. "Would you like to rest, Sir Solomon?"
"Yes," Solomon replied, his voice faltering. "That's… an excellent idea."
As they moved away, Solomon stole one last glance at Ashan. The boy's calm demeanor hadn't changed, his face a picture of serenity.
Who… Who is this child?
Ashan, observing from afar, frowned slightly. That old man's behavior was suspicious. Did he…? Ah, so he entered my mind. No wonder his face was pale with fear. He couldn't possibly comprehend what he saw. Still, I'll need to keep my distance.
He shifted his gaze to the gathering of lords, noting their animated conversations and warm camaraderie. His father, Leone, stood among them, his face alight with joy.
They seem genuinely good-natured. A nation thrives under leaders like these. Ashan smiled faintly. It's a rare sight, but a comforting one.
_____________________________________________________________________________________
As night descended, the grand hall became a realm of enchantment, its golden chandeliers shimmering like stars against the vaulted ceiling. The music, a blend of strings and wind instruments, filled the space with a melody so mesmerizing that time itself seemed to pause.
At the heart of the hall, Leone and Maria opened the first dance, their movements flowing as if they were the embodiment of the music. Maria, in a flowing light-blue gown that sparkled faintly in the mana lights, seemed almost otherworldly—a living reflection of the moonlit sky. Leone, clad in a tailored black suit that accentuated his commanding presence, moved with the precision of a knight sworn to protect her.
Above them, their spirits manifested, weaving an ethereal tapestry of light and shadow. Three black birds, their wings like ink in motion, circled gracefully around Maria's spirit—a delicate green tree that resembled a child clasping its hands in prayer. The sight drew audible gasps from the guests, who watched in rapt admiration.
One by one, the lords and their wives joined the dance, filling the hall with life and joy. Yet, Ashan's gaze was drawn to the youngest lord, Zenith. The man stood apart, leaning against a marble pillar with a faint smile. Though he refrained from dancing, his presence was no less radiant. His aura, a warm blend of orange and yellow, glowed softly, like the first light of dawn.
Such simple desires, Ashan mused. People like him are rare—content with the happiness of others. No wonder he became a lord.
However, Ashan's calm was disrupted as his eyes landed on Solomon. The Archmage's gaze was fixed on him, filled with unanswered questions.
Sigh. Poor old man. It's his fault for delving into my mind. He won't find peace in this lifetime.
Suddenly, a dense black fog crept into the hall, dimming the mana lights. The festive atmosphere turned to unease as guests huddled together.
"What's happening?" Leone asked Solomon, who had stepped forward, his golden staff materializing in his hand.
"It's the dark mage… Karayan," Solomon said grimly.
Ashan's eyes glowed as he felt the dark mana enveloping the hall.
An undead power user… A very dangerous one. Who dares disrupt my home?
The entrance doors swung open with a thunderous bang, revealing an elderly man draped in black and gray robes. His sunken eyes and skeletal staff, crowned with a baby dragon's skull, radiated malevolence.
"You dare celebrate without acknowledging me?" Karayan's voice boomed, dripping with venom. His lips curled into a sneer as he surveyed the crowd. "You invited that pompous Solomon but not me? This is an insult to my existence!"
Ashan watched him with thinly veiled disgust.
What a lunatic, he thought, his eyes narrowing as the tension in the hall rose.
To be continued…