The next day, Atticus sat on his bed meditating. With a subtle shift in focus, he extended his senses, reaching out to the ambient mana that permeated the air.
Drawing in the mana, Atticus felt it cascade through his being like a gentle waterfall, a shimmering current that resonated with the essence of the world. As the mana flowed within him, he began to manipulate it, guiding it into his mana core. After a while, he opened his eyes and released a soft sigh.
‘Nothing’s changed. I’ve been training like this for years now, but I don’t know anything about the power system of this world,’ Atticus pondered. ‘Mom said she’ll allow me to start training when I turn six. I can only continue absorbing mana for now.’
The day before, Atticus had mentioned that he wanted to learn how to fight after dinner. Of course, Anastasia vehemently refused, claiming that Atticus was too young. Atticus then brought out his secret weapon: his cute puppy face. However, even the adorable expression couldn’t sway Anastasia.
After a few minutes of Atticus’ persistent begging, Freya and Avalon intervened, supporting his request. It took a while, but Anastasia reluctantly agreed to let him start training when he turned six.
“That woman is so protective, damn!” Atticus uttered, annoyed. “You would think in a world riddled with wars and deaths, parents would want their children to learn how to fight and defend themselves early. I have to be patient. I’ll keep absorbing mana for now and then next year, I’ll focus on understanding this world’s power system and learning how to fight!” 𝘳𝑎.𝒸ℴ
***
Boman strode purposefully down the corridor leading to Avalon’s training room. His steps were brisk and determined, a sense of urgency driving his movements. The sleek, metallic surface of the door gleamed under the ambient light, its design a blend of elegant simplicity and advanced technology.
As he reached its proximity, sensors embedded within the door recognized his presence, and with a barely audible hum, the door’s smooth surface began to part, revealing Avalon in the midst of an intense training session, sitting cross-legged with lava surrounding him. Boman cleared his throat, calling his attention.
“Master Avalon,” he began, his tone tinged with trepidation. “There is bad news.” .
Avalon opened his eyes, surprised to see Boman here. ‘It must be pretty serious, he never disturbs me when I’m training’. He disabled the stimulation and allowed Boman to approach him.
“What is it?” Avalon’s voice was low and controlled, but an undercurrent of tension vibrated through the air.
Boman swallowed nervously before delivering the devastating news. “Master Ariel… he has been killed.”
Boman’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their meaning. As he delivered the news of Ariel’s untimely demise, it was as if the world around Avalon shifted, morphing into a surreal tableau. The sounds of the bustling mansion, the distant hum of activity, all faded away into a muted symphony, leaving only a hollow echo.
Avalon’s gaze locked onto Boman’s lips as they moved, shaping the words that had shattered his reality. But despite the motion, the words themselves seemed to dissolve before they reached his ears. A numbness settled over him, a cocoon of disbelief that shielded him from the full impact of the news.
Sensing the disconnect, Boman’s voice trailed off into silence. His concerned gaze met Avalon’s distant eyes, recognizing the shock that had enveloped him. He took a step back, allowing the space for Avalon to process the devastating truth.
Time seemed to stretch as Avalon’s mind grappled with the enormity of the loss. Images of Ariel, his brother, his confidant, flashed through his thoughts. Laughter shared, battles fought side by side, and now… a void that would never be filled again.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a voice managed to penetrate the fog of numbness that enveloped Avalon’s senses. It was a faint whisper, his own voice, fragmented and distant.
“Ariel… gone?”
The sound of his own voice seemed to shatter the illusion, allowing reality to seep back in. The world regained its sound, the mansion’s life resuming its rhythm. Boman’s concerned eyes met Avalon’s, a mixture of sympathy and empathy etched on his face.
Boman’s voice, when it came, was gentle, as if recognizing the fragility of the moment. “Yes.”
Avalon’s chest tightened, a mix of grief, anger, and disbelief welling up within him. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, his hands clenching involuntarily at his sides.
“How…?” His voice wavered, betraying the emotions he struggled to contain.
“They left no trace, but we suspect the Obsidian Order.” Boman answered.
Avalon’s jaw tightened, a fierce determination replacing the initial shock. The anger surged forth, igniting a fire within him.
“The Obsidian Order,” he repeated, his voice now edged with resolve. “They will pay for this.”
“Find them,” Avalon’s voice was like steel, his command unwavering. “Use every resource at our disposal. Lock down the entire human domain if you must. I want those responsible located.”
Boman nodded, his resolve firming as he absorbed Avalon’s orders. “Yes, Master Avalon. We will leave no stone unturned.”
Avalon’s aura pulsed once more, the air charged with an almost palpable tension. “Make sure of it. They will pay for this!”
As Boman hastily retreated to carry out his orders, Avalon’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his thoughts a maelstrom of anger and and grief.
Updated from .𝒎