"How…?" Charles's voice trembled.
"How did you find out?" His usually tired eyes were now sharp with shock.
Arthur glanced at the fading glow of the runes on his father's prosthetic limbs—intricate, ancient—before they sank back into his body, vanishing like they had never been there.
"I'm your son, Dad," Arthur said simply.
"Of course, I can see it."
"The way you tense up whenever someone praises the Emperor of Runes. How you try to shrug it off—like you wish that name would disappear."
His gaze was steady. "It wasn't hard to figure out."
But that wasn't the full truth.
He hadn't told his father about Hell's Vision.
'When I first looked at you with Hell's Vision, I saw them—the Glyphs.'
'The Wolf.'
'I scanned everyone in the village with Hell's Vision.'
'But only you… you carried something inside your chest—something alive.'
'A wolf. Small but terrifying, curled at the very center of your chest.'
'Six glowing glyphs encircling it, shifting like words in a forgotten language.'
'Back then, I didn't understand.'
'But after seeing Lawrence wield runes… then I understood.'
'Those Glyphs—those six marks—weren't just symbols.'
'They were runes.'
'And Dad… you… carried six of them within your body.'
The truth was undeniable.
'You are not just a Runic.'
'You are the Emperor of Runes.'
'And, also, when you look at everyone in the Village, your gaze shifts.'
'It was different.'
'It was the way an adult looks at a child.'
'The way Benjamin looks at me.'
'And then, it hit me.'
'The person Benjamin and everyone else speak of with such reverence, day in and day out…'
'It's you.'
'The Emperor of Runes of Runewood Village.'
'Of course, I couldn't be sure. After all, a human can't live that long, at least by Earth's standards.'
'But this is Genovia, the world of Runes and Genes.'
'So, I took a chance. Even if I was wrong, what's the worst that could happen?'
'And, well, I wasn't wrong.'
'Your stunned silence… it proved it.'
....
Arthur barely had time to react before his father's arms wrapped around him, pulling him close.
The embrace was firm, grounding—warmer than he had imagined.
"Dad… you're crying," Arthur murmured.
Charles's grip loosened slightly. His face looked older somehow, lined with something deeper than exhaustion.
He inhaled, exhaled.
Then, steadier than before, he asked, "Arthur… do you want to become a Runic?"
Arthur hesitated only for a moment. He met his father's gaze, searching for doubt, for hesitation.
He found none.
Finally, he nodded.
Charles let out a slow, weary sigh. His shoulders slumped, and for the first time in Arthur's life, his father looked truly old.
"In the end…" Charles murmured, more to himself than anyone else. "You still chose this path."
...
By afternoon, they sat across from each other at the table.
But something had changed.
Charles barely ate. His appetite, usually steady, had dwindled to a few bites.
His eyes flickered toward Arthur more times than he could count, which Arthur noticed.
"Arthur," Charles began, his voice unusually careful.
"Have you told anyone about me?"
Arthur shook his head.
Charles let out a long exhale, as if a weight had momentarily loosened its grip.
"I've spoken to Benjamin. You'll be leaving for Solgard City the day after tomorrow."
Arthur blinked.
'When?'
'When did you even leave the house?'
'Then again, with your power, it wouldn't be surprising.'
Arthur nodded, a quick acknowledgment before the conversation turned heavy again.
"This world is dangerous, Arthur." Charles's tone was sharp as his gaze darkened.
"Ruthless."
"It will chew you up and spit you out before you even realize it." His voice carried a weight that should have sent a chill down Arthur's spine, but it didn't.
"Even if you help someone out of goodwill, you'll never know when they'll turn around and drive a knife into your back."
Charles leaned forward, the dim light from the window catching the metallic sheen of his prosthetic arm.
"I have lived for more than a thousand years," he said.
Arthur's breath caught, his chest tightening as if he'd been struck.
"A thousand years?" His voice was barely a whisper, disbelief in every syllable.
Charles continued, undeterred.
"People say there are countless useless Genes in this world, Genes that cannot absorb Runes."
"But after living this long, I've learned the truth." His eyes locked onto Arthur's, unwavering.
"There are no useless genes in this world. Only useless Runes."
Charles spoke again, though his voice had softened.
"If your Crimson Fern proves too difficult to train… if you ever struggle at university… you can always come back."
"As long as I live, you'll have a place anywhere in this world."
"You don't have to fight if you don't want to."
"But if you leave Runewood Village…" His voice dropped, a whisper laced with something chilling.
"You will be forging your own path. And I fear… that once you take that path, I may not be able to protect you."
Arthur swallowed hard.
'Dad—is—he afraid?'
"There is one person in Solgard Primary University," he said grimly. "Be careful of him."
Arthur frowned. "Who?"
Charles shook his head.
"He has many names." His eyes narrowed.
"But I have reason to believe he's been at Solgard for some time now."
Something in the way he said it sent a shiver down Arthur's spine.
Charles's next words came slow.
"But if you are ever in danger," he said, his voice like distant thunder, "no matter where you are, no matter how far—speak my name."
His eyes bore into Arthur's. "And I will be there."
Arthur's breath hitched, and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Charles stood up and began walking toward his room.
Arthur called after him, "Thank you, Dad!"
Charles didn't pause.
"I won't forget what you've said!" Arthur called again, his voice carrying a quiet desperation.
At the door, Charles stopped. His back was to Arthur, but there was something in his posture—something heavy in the silence—that made Arthur's heart tighten.
The man who had always seemed unshakable now felt... smaller. His shoulders, usually so rigid, sagged with an unseen burden. Arthur noticed the subtle tremor in his father's hand as he gripped the doorframe.
"Be careful," Charles said, his voice low, but it was tainted with something more raw, more human.
It was as if Charles was no longer just a father, but a man who had seen too much and feared too much.
"Inside the University… be very careful," Charles added, before the door clicked shut with a quiet, final thud.