Three days had passed since the incident at the refugee camp.
A long journey carried two children toward their respective destinies.
Ionis and Ego.
They traveled without a clear direction hitching rides with merchants, following river currents, and at times relying only on their small legs forced to keep moving.
Until finally the capital of the Mycoria Kingdom, Koria, stood before them.
The city was the same.
Grand. Alive after the Imperial war ended. Filled with the noise of trade.
Yet somehow… it felt different.
Ego scanned the surroundings, his eyes sweeping across buildings that once felt familiar.
"Not much has changed since the last time we were here."
Ionis nodded slightly.
"Yeah… but it feels more foreign than I remember."
It wasn't the city that changed.
It was them.
A brief silence followed.
Then, without many words, they parted ways.
Toward their own homes.
Toward their own burdens.
Ego's Family Home
"The Greatest Blacksmith"
The large workshop still stood firm.
A hammer and flame emblem was clearly engraved on the front door.
Black smoke rose from the chimney, and the sound of metal being forged filled the air rhythmic, loud, almost like the heartbeat of the place itself.
Ego stopped at the entrance.
For a moment… he simply stood there.
Then stepped inside.
Inside, a large man was inspecting a newly forged sword. His arms were muscular, his skin marked with small burn scars traces of decades spent near fire.
Rates Forgese.
His father.
The man stopped.
Turned.
His sharp gaze landed directly on Ego.
"So… this brat finally came back?"
His voice was heavy. Not warm. Not cold.
Just… real.
Ego met his gaze.
"I'm back."
Rates set down his hammer.
His steps were heavy as he approached.
His eyes examined Ego from head to toe as if confirming whether the child before him was still the same.
"Turns out you just happened to survive."
Ego didn't respond.
He didn't bow.
Didn't challenge either.
Just stood.
After a few seconds that felt longer than they should
Rates exhaled.
And
THUD!
A heavy slap landed on Ego's shoulder.
"Hah! At least you didn't die like an idiot."
His tone shifted slightly.
Still rough.
But… something else was there.
"Get in," he continued. "We need talk."
Ego nodded.
And for the first time since returning
he gave a faint smile.
Inside the workshop, the fire kept burning.
And without needing to be said
Ego knew.
He didn't truly come home.
He returned to the place where he would be forged.
Ionis' Family Home
"Count Frances – Mystic Spear"
The grand gate opened slowly.
A winged spear emblem was carved magnificently into stone.
The Frances family residence.
A place where power was not merely a choice
but an obligation.
Ionis stepped inside.
His steps were calm.
But inside… his thoughts were loud.
A servant who saw him immediately froze.
"Young master?!"
Rapid footsteps echoed from inside.
A woman appeared.
Long silver hair.
Sharp gaze.
Flawless posture.
Elia Frances.
His mother.
"Ionis."
Her voice was soft.
But not warm.
Ionis lowered his head slightly.
"Mother."
Elia approached.
Her eyes examined her son's face.
"Thank goodness you're safe."
Ionis opened his mouth.
He wanted to speak.
About the war.
About the refugee camp.
About his big brother
But
"…Mother does not wish to know what happened to your brother."
The sentence fell just like that.
Cold.
Firm.
Final.
Ionis froze.
Elia gave a faint smile.
"What matters… is that you returned."
For a moment
Ionis understood.
Not because he was understood.
But because he was… sufficient.
Sufficient to be the heir.
"Now listen," Elia continued.
"This kingdom is built upon artifacts. Power. And faith in the gods."
She looked straight into Ionis' eyes.
"If you wish to be acknowledged as the heir of the Frances family… then prove it."
Ionis clenched his fist.
"Tame the Mystic Spear."
Those words were not a request.
They were an order.
Within the Frances family, only a true Artifactor could control that sacred spear.
Without that ability
an heir was nothing but an empty title.
Ionis took a breath.
"Understood," he said quietly.
"I will enter the Artifactor Academy."
A smile appeared on Elia's face.
Proud.
Satisfied.
"Good. You understand."
But not everyone in that house stayed silent.
Behind another room
a thin man with a tired face stood.
He did not step forward.
Did not interrupt.
But his eyes… were full of worry.
That afternoon
the sound of an argument could be faintly heard behind closed doors.
"You're too harsh on him!" the man's voice was restrained, yet emotional.
"He's the only one left!"
"Elia, he is our child..."
"And because of that, he must not fail."
Elia's tone remained calm.
But sharper than a blade.
"The Frances family was not built on softness."
"If he cannot bear this… then he is unworthy."
Silence.
Then the man's voice weakened.
"…he's still a child."
No answer came.
Because in this house
the mother's authority as leader outweighed the father's feelings as a parent.
Evening
Ego stood outside the workshop.
Looking at the sky.
His hand opened.
Slightly trembling.
"Forging… and enchanting, huh…"
He let out a small laugh.
Nervous.
This was a responsibility he once left behind.
One he should have walked.
Yet
he chose another path.
And now… he had to chase both.
He slowly closed his hand.
"White…"
That promise remained etched within him.
On the other side
Ionis stood before his brother's room.
The door was closed.
But not locked.
He pushed it open slowly.
Inside
a spear.
Broken.
Only its sharp tip remained.
The artifact his brother had never managed to tame.
Ionis stared at it for a long time.
"If you hadn't sacrificed yourself…"
"…you would be the one standing here."
He looked at his own hand.
"Not me."
The sound of his parents' argument still echoed faintly from outside.
Ionis closed his eyes.
"Can I… really carry all of this?"
The two children, who had just received their assignment shortly after returning, were given it. There was no greeting, no explanation, just that it had to be done, and it was mandatory.
It will be different with the two children in this mansion, they... are getting something they have longed for all this time.
White and Alyssa.
Both had changed into training clothes simple, light, and loose enough for free movement. No noble ornaments. No symbols of pride.
Only their bodies… and their potential.
Before them, Magnus stood.
Calm.
Silent.
Yet his pressure… was tangible.
Without warning,
The air around him trembled.
And in a single breath,
his form split into two.
One, a male figure with deep, immeasurable Arcane aura.
One, a female figure with the sharp pressure of a Swordmaster.
Two identities.
One existence.
"Starting today," both voices spoke at once, strange yet perfectly aligned, "your training will no longer be basic."
White narrowed his eyes.
Alyssa swallowed quietly.
"You are not ordinary students," Magnus continued.
"You are my adopted children… and vessels of something the Aurelthia Empire considers taboo."
Silence fell.
"Darkness."
That single word was enough.
White did not react.
Alyssa stiffened slightly.
Magnus continued without emotion.
"And because of that… you have no right to be weak."
The female Magnus stepped forward.
Her gaze locked onto White.
"You. Come with me."
White clicked his tongue.
"Sword?"
"Stamina. Rhythm. And self-control," Magnus replied flatly.
"The sword is not just a tool.."
On the other side, the male Magnus turned to Alyssa.
"And you. Mana."
Alyssa nodded slightly.
"…Understood."
White's Training
White gripped the training sword.
Heavier than he remembered.
Or perhaps… his body wasn't ready yet.
"Begin," Magnus said shortly.
White swung.
Fast.
Aggressive.
Without pause.
Without pattern.
Within seconds
his breathing became unstable.
"Stop."
White froze.
Magnus looked at him expressionlessly.
"That is not technique. That is panic disguised as courage."
White frowned.
"…I attacked."
"You wasted energy."
Magnus stepped closer.
"Listen carefully."
Her voice lowered.
Heavier.
"Your affinity is darkness. That means your body will naturally absorb, suppress, and exhaust energy… faster than others."
White went silent.
"If you cannot regulate your breathing—you will collapse before your enemy even touches you."
White tightened his grip on the sword.
"Again."
This time
slower.
Inhale.
Swing.
Exhale.
A simple motion.
Yet gradually… it stabilized.
"Good," Magnus murmured.
"Strength is not what you need."
"Control is."
Alyssa's Training
On the other side, Alyssa stood with her eyes closed.
Her hands slightly raised.
Magnus observed her.
"Do you know what makes your magic dangerous?" Magnus asked.
Alyssa opened her eyes slightly.
"…Because I can use it?"
"Because you don't understand it."
Alyssa fell silent.
Magnus raised his hand.
The air around them trembled faintly.
"Mana is everywhere. But for you… it is not just energy."
He stepped closer.
"Darkness affinity means… you don't just draw mana."
"You consume it."
Alyssa stiffened.
"If you fail to control it… you will not explode like ordinary mages."
Magnus's voice turned cold.
"You will disappear."
Silence.
Alyssa closed her eyes again.
More focused.
"I… will try again."
She inhaled.
Feeling the air.
Slowly
she began to sense something.
A faint vibration.
Like a pulse.
"…There is something," she whispered.
Magnus nodded slightly.
"Pull."
Alyssa tried to draw the mana into her body.
And
A small BOOM.
Wind burst outward.
Dust scattered.
Alyssa opened her eyes in panic.
"…Sorry!"
Magnus only let out a light sigh.
"At least you didn't destroy the courtyard."
Back Together
White stopped.
Alyssa still held her trembling hand.
They glanced at each other.
White exhaled.
"…So this is training?"
Alyssa gave a faint smile.
"If this is the beginning… I'm not sure I want to know the end."
White snorted.
"We're going to be a disaster."
"A trained disaster," Magnus corrected from behind.
They turned.
The two Magnus figures stood side by side again.
"Listen carefully."
Their voices merged.
"A sword without control… is nothing more than a foolish killing tool."
"Magic without understanding… is delayed suicide."
Their gazes sharpened.
"And darkness..."
"...is both."
Silence.
But this time… it wasn't empty.
It was filled with awareness.
"You want power?" Magnus continued.
White didn't answer.
Alyssa didn't move.
"Of course you do."
A faint smile appeared
"Then learn to restrain yourselves before you learn to destroy."
The training continued.
Without luxury.
Without praise.
Only correction.
Failure.
And repetition.
Yet beneath all of it
something began to take shape.
Not merely technique.
Not merely strength.
But
the foundation of two children with an affinity that should not exist in the world they stand upon.