And that's how I convinced that shady merchant. I always have to brew these kinds of potions if I want to buy valuable materials from a depraved guy like him. Who knows what he'll do with them… I really need to find a new merchant ASAP, I thought, frustrated.
Don: "Thanks. I'm leaving… Oh, wait—look at this and tell me: What do you think happened?" I showed him the damaged core.
Merchant: "Whoa! That's wild! Never seen damage this bad on the world's toughest metal."
Don: "Could a monster have done it?"
Merchant: "No way. We're too far from the border dangers. Even if one slipped through, Zephyria's top-ranked knights handle that stuff. We're miles from conflict. Why do you think I'm in Duncaster? Soon as I get my trader's permit, I'm moving to Astoria—they say it's a merchant's paradise. I'll get filthy rich, just like God intended!" He grinned, then turned dead serious. "You'll pay for this info, kid."
Don: "Pay? I just asked your opinion!"
Merchant: "Do I look like I care? Knowledge ain't free."
Don: "I urgently need a new merchant…" I muttered. "But if you won't help, my master'll come collect it himself. Just saying." I lied blatantly.
Merchant (panicking): "On second thought, I don't want trouble with your old man. Take it and scram."
Don: "Leaving now."
Merchant: "Say hi to the Owl for me. Haven't seen the legend in ages."
I grabbed my supplies and left, lost in thoughts about my master's reputation. They say he's insanely strong. I remember nothing of his past, but I know he's leagues above me. The seal on my back—the one he says suppresses my elemental powers—means I can't use magic.
Flashback:
Max (snarling): "Attack!"
I lunged, dodging his kicks, but he outclassed me completely. He sidestepped my final strike, kneeing my chin. I blocked, but he twisted my momentum, dislocating my shoulder. I crumpled, screaming.
Max: "Pathetic. For a Supaibi, this is unacceptable." He glared down, voice icy. "You're too weak. Harden your body and mind, or you'll die. I swear on my eyes: I'll make you the fiercest thing alive."
That seal is one of the worst curses. Only a Rank 7 mage could cast it. No matter how hard I train, my magic stays locked. Worse, as a Supaibi, my purpose is magic. Our race bonds deeply with ether—but my ether point is gone. Instead, I radiate something… dark.
Max: "I'll force it out of you. Life brought you to me for a reason. Even sealed, you heal—something's protecting you." He raised his left hand. "Jhanmm!"
A spell crushed me between two invisible forces, compressing my bones.
After that day, I trained nonstop. Max taught me potions, tools, human behavior—everything except magic. My grandmother worried constantly.
Another night:
Grandmother: "Don, do you know who cast that seal? It's… powerful."
Don: "No clue. I've got 44 years of memories, but none before Master rescued me from kidnappers."
Max (storming in): "Stop filling his head with 'family' nonsense. The past is gone. Move forward."
Don: "It doesn't matter. I'm safe here, thanks to you both."
Max: "Sentimental garbage." He stormed out.
Don: "Why's he always so angry?"
Grandmother: "His kind are sworn to protect ether's flow. But something broke his people…"
Max (interrupting): "Enough. Focus on training, boy."
Grandmother: "Let him breathe, Max! He's not immortal!"
Max: "He's lucky you coddle him. But mark my words: I'll beat that kindness out of you. You'll need cruelty to survive."
His glare terrified me.
Don: "Why make me suffer so much?"
Max turned away, almost… laughing?
Max: "Suffering's life's best teacher. Consider this a gift—I'm sparing you 20 years of pain. Remember: live without Influence, Power, or Wealth. Understood?"
Don: "Yes, Master."
Max: "And quit calling yourself '44.' You're 41, idiot."
Don (timidly): "Master… how did you and Grandma meet?"
Max (flustered): "W-What kind of question—?!"
Grandmother (laughing): "Oh, that's a great story!"
Max: "Helena—!"
Grandmother: "Your 'scary owl eyes' don't work on me. I'll tell him anyway."
Max: "Over my dead body."
Grandmother: "Watch your tongue, little bird, or I'll pluck it out."
Her sweet demeanor vanished. That day, I realized neither was what they seemed—yet their bond was unshakable. A fallen king and the woman who tamed his rage. But why did their love fill me with dread?
Back to the present:
"Maybe I'll never be as ruthless as Master wants. He knows it."
Returning to the farm, I found Max waiting, shadowed and stern.
Don: "Master, I've got the parts to fix the scarecrow. Took forever to find that merchant…"
Max: "Hand me the core." His voice trembled.
He inspected the damage, paling.
Max: "This is… catastrophic." Fear flashed—a first.
Don: "Master? What's wrong?"
Max (recovering): "Repair the scarecrow later. Your second task starts now." He tossed me a list and a pouch. "200 gold. Buy these by dawn. My patience is thin."
Don (reading): "Royal tree leaf… empty ring… blue tears? Where? The merchant only sells tool parts!"
Max: "Figure it out. You'll camp out two nights. Go."
Don: "Let me tell Grandma—"
Max: "Go. Now. Or I'll throw you out myself."
Don: "Fine. I'll be back tomorrow."
Max: "Wait." He handed me his tattered, fur-lined coat.
Don: "Why give me this?"
Max: "It'll protect you."
Suddenly, his eyes burned crimson. Veins glowed, claws sprouted, and an owl-like crown materialized. Now I understood Grandma's words: "His eyes are beautiful in the sun."
Don: "See you soon, Master." I bowed, hiding my awe.
Max (softly): "Your grandmother's proud. To us… you're our son." He ruffled my hair. "One last lesson: Be great or be smart—your choice. But never burden those who love you. Clear?"
Don: "Yes, Master… Dad?"
Max: "Go!"
As I left, I glanced back. Max stood rigid, watching me go. Inside, Grandma wept silently. He hugged her, whispering:
Max: "It'll be okay."
Grandmother: "Till death parts us…"
They kissed—a fragile hope in the storm ahead.