𝙀𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙
𝘼𝙧𝙘 𝟮: 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙢 𝘼𝙧𝙘
𝘾𝙝 𝟭𝟲 – 𝘾𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙖 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝙁𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙡𝙮
𝟭𝟲 𝗬𝗲𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟯 𝗠𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘀 𝗔𝗴𝗼
Inside a school, in the 𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗦𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, the classroom was filled with the loud and innocent chaos only children could create.
Some kids were running around while laughing like they had discovered the secret of happiness itself.
Some were drawing houses with purple suns and green clouds.
One boy was sleeping on his desk like life had already become too difficult for him.
A few girls were singing loudly with their teacher, not caring if the lyrics were right or wrong.
Two children were arguing over whose dinosaur drawing looked cooler.
One child proudly showed everyone a stick figure and announced that it was his father.
It was a world made of crayons, spilled water bottles, tiny shoes, unfinished snacks, and endless imagination.
And in the middle of all that childish joy, one boy sat quietly by himself.
𝗚𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘁.
Unlike the others, he wasn’t playing.
He sat near the window with a box of crayons open beside him, carefully drawing something on white paper with full concentration, like it was the most important mission in the world.
His small tongue peeked out slightly from the corner of his mouth as he colored.
Red.
More red.
Then black.
Then more red.
A teacher noticed him and smiled softly before walking over.
She bent down beside him and adjusted her saree neatly before looking at the paper.
Her smile widened.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘢?”
Without even looking up, Garvit answered seriously,
“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬.”
The teacher blinked.
“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵?”
Now Garvit looked up.
His eyes widened with complete seriousness.
He quickly raised both his tiny arms as wide as he could.
“𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙎 𝘣𝘪𝘨!
𝘈𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮!
A nearby child gasped.
“𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺?!”
Garvit nodded aggressively.
“𝘠𝘌𝘚!”
He jumped from his chair.
“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙤𝙤𝙨𝙝!”
He swung both arms dramatically.
“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤!”
He spun around.
Nearly fell.
Regained balance.
Continued proudly.
“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴!”
He launched himself backward.
Several children burst into laughter.
Then he pointed dramatically.
“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘢 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨!”
He clapped his hands.
“𝘽𝙊𝙊𝙈!”
“𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘕 𝘔𝘖𝘕𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘋𝘌𝘈𝘋!”
Silence.
Then several children gathered around him.
“𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰?!”
“𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘺?”
“𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 Superheroes?”
Garvit puffed his chest proudly.
“𝘗𝘢𝘱𝘢 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳.”
“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘰.”
The teacher tried not to laugh.
“𝘔𝘺, 𝘮𝘺… 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴.”
She gently patted his head.
Such imagination.
Such confidence.
To adults, it was adorable nonsense.
To Garvit…
It was just Tuesday.
Before she could say more—
“𝘈𝘈𝘈! 𝘔𝘈’𝘈𝘔! 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳!”
The teacher sighed.
Another war had begun.
She rushed away.
Garvit blinked once.
Then calmly sat down again.
He looked at his drawing.
He colored the monster red.
Because monsters were always red.
That was obvious.
Because when children speak truths adults cannot understand…
They call it imagination.
They call it fantasy.
They call it cute.
𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙏𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙇𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧.
School ended.
Parents slowly arrived one by one.
The classroom grew quieter.
Then— she arrived.
𝗚𝗮𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘁’𝘀 𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿.
𝗕𝗿𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘁𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱.
𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗹.
𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴.
𝗕𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗺.
𝗔𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗲𝗸.
𝗙𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁 𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘀 𝗽𝗲𝗲𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 𝘀𝗹𝗲𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴.
𝗛𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗽 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 instinctively scanned the room.
Not from suspicion.
From habit.
She could feel mana.
And children…
Children carried the brightest untouched magic.
The teacher smiled politely.
“𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝙈𝙧𝙨. 𝙎𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙖.”
Garvit’s mother bowed slightly.
“𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘯, 𝘮𝘢’𝘢𝘮. 𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦.”
The teacher noticed the bandages.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥?”
For exactly one second— she froze.
Then smiled awkwardly.
“𝘈𝘩… 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘺𝘮.”
The teacher nodded.
Probably.
Definitely.
Maybe.
Before further questions could happen—
“𝘔𝘈𝘔𝘈!”
Garvit ran over.
Grabbed her hand.
“𝘉𝘺𝘦, 𝘮𝘢’𝘢𝘮!”
“𝘎𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦, 𝘎𝘢𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘵.”
The two walked home together.
Their house was only a few blocks away.
Garvit swung their joined hands.
“𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳?”
His mother smiled.
“𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦.”
“𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴.”
That answer satisfied him completely.
Their home looked ordinary.
Two floors.
An extra room above.
Simple.
Normal.
Then they stepped inside.
And the dishes were washing themselves.
Garvit’s mother stopped.
The broom swept the floor.
She blinked.
A towel floated through the hallway.
A spoon flew past carrying sugar.
𝗠𝗮𝗻𝗶𝗽𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗰.
Very gently.
Very kindly.
Very dangerously.
Upstairs—
Garvit’s father walked down.
Then froze.
He looked at his wife.
Then the floating spoon.
Then his wife again.
He understood.
He was already dead.
“𝘈𝘩…”
He smiled weakly.
“𝘏𝘦𝘺, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳?”
“𝘋𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨.”
Her voice was sweet.
Terrifyingly sweet.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤?”
Silence.
Even the broom slowed down.
“𝘐𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦—”
“𝘕𝘰.”
“𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨—”
“𝘕𝘰.”
“𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥—”
“𝘕𝘖.”
Cue to:
Garvit’s father sitting on the floor.
Garvit’s mother standing above him.
Little Garvit eating biscuits nearby.
A normal family.
Absolutely normal.
Then— the extra phone rang.
Everyone froze.
The laughter disappeared.
The magical broom stopped moving.
The floating spoon gently lowered itself.
Because that phone only rang when necessary.
𝗠𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿.
Or the international branch.
Nothing else.
Garvit’s mother picked it up.
“𝘏𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰, 𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦-𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦.”
The code.
Always the code.
Master’s calm voice answered.
“𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺’𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭.”
Both parents straightened immediately.
Mission request.
Expected.
Normal.
Then Master continued.
“𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬’𝙨 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙡 𝘵𝘰𝘰.”
Silence filled the room.
Both of their eyes widened.
That…
Was not normal.
His mother answered carefully.
“𝘠𝘦𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.”
The call ended.
No one spoke.
Tomorrow’s special.
Not a mission.
Not routine.
A decision.
And decisions from Master were never small.
Little Garvit looked up from his biscuits.
“𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢?”
Both parents turned toward him.
“𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥?”
For a moment— the heavy atmosphere cracked.
His father laughed weakly.
His mother knelt beside him and stroked his hair.
“𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘢.”
She forced a smile.
“𝘞𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵… 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.”
Outside, the evening sky slowly darkened.
Inside the house, husband and wife exchanged silent glances.
Neither wanted to say the fear resting inside their hearts.
Because they both understood.
𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄… 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗲.
𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗸𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗞𝗼𝘁𝗮.
Night had settled over the city.
The roads that had once been busy during the day now stood mostly empty, illuminated only by scattered streetlights and the occasional passing vehicle.
Inside their home, the atmosphere had changed.
Dinner had been eaten.
The dishes had been washed.
This time manually.
Garvit’s father wasn’t taking any chances.
Little Garvit sat cross-legged on the living room floor.
His eyes sparkled with concentration.
A small bubble of water floated above his palm.
It wobbled.
Split into two smaller bubbles.
Then merged again.
He giggled.
“𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢!”
His mother smiled despite the storm in her heart.
“𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘢.”
The bubble suddenly burst.
Water splashed onto Garvit’s face.
He blinked.
Then burst into laughter.
His father watched quietly.
Normally, that laughter would have been enough.
Enough to chase away exhaustion.
Enough to erase memories of blood.
Enough to remind them why they fought.
Tonight… it wasn’t enough.
Because tomorrow’s special.
The phrase echoed in both their minds.
Neither spoke of it.
Not in front of him.
Eventually, Garvit yawned.
His mother tucked him into bed.
She sat beside him as he wrapped himself tightly in his blanket.
“𝘔𝘢𝘮𝘢?”
“𝘏𝘮?”
“𝘋𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥?”
The question caught her off guard.
She gently brushed his hair aside.
“𝘠𝘦𝘴.”
“𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺?”
“𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥.”
Garvit thought deeply.
“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯… 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘢 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘰?”
Silence.
Then—
“𝘠𝘦𝘴.”
He blinked.
“𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.”
Her smile became smaller.
Sadder.
“𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺.”
Garvit accepted that explanation instantly.
Because children trusted simple truths.
“𝘖𝘬𝘢𝘺.”
Within minutes— This chapter is updated first at g.com. he fell asleep.
His mother remained sitting there.
Watching him breathe.
His father quietly entered.
Neither spoke.
Eventually— they stepped outside.
The night air felt cold.
“𝘏𝘦’𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦,” his father whispered.
She clenched her fists.
“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.”
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧…”
He couldn’t finish.
Because both of them already knew what came next.
The monsters.
The fragments.
The searchers.
Children born with unusual talent had never been left untouched by fate.
“𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦.”
His wife closed her eyes.
“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.”
“𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘺?”
Tears threatened to form.
But warriors learned long ago how to swallow them.
“𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦.”
Neither spoke again.
𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿— they drove.
The outskirts of Kota greeted them with silence.
A lonely road.
Night air.
The distant sounds of insects.
Master stood waiting beside the road.
He looked like darkness itself had decided to wear human skin.
The car stopped.
Both parents stepped out first.
They bowed respectfully.
His mother raised her head.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺’𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳?”
“𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.”
Both parents froze.
Their eyes widened.
Master’s gaze shifted.
Toward the car.
Inside— little Garvit sat happily.
A small water bubble floated above his hand.
Tiny.
Transparent.
Beautiful.
It danced through the air without effort.
Instinctive.
Natural.
He smiled as he guided it through imaginary obstacle courses.
Master watched quietly.
Longer than usual.
Then— he spoke.
“𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩.”
The words struck harder than any monster’s claws.
“𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳…”
His father struggled.
“𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨.”
Master looked at him.
“𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘦.”
Silence.
“𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘴.”
The night itself seemed heavier.
Searcher.
No peaceful childhood.
No ordinary future.
No safe road.
Only monsters.
Fragments.
Blood.
Responsibility.
Master folded his hands behind his back.
“𝘖𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦… 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵.”
The cruelest part.
Because technically— the choice belonged to them.
But was it really a choice?
Both parents looked toward the car.
Toward their son.
Their child.
Still laughing.
Still playing.
Still too young to understand.
His mother’s hands trembled.
Because she knew.
She knew the danger.
She knew the pain.
She knew exactly what kind of life waited for warriors.
And now— that same life waited for her son.
His father inhaled slowly.
Then both bowed.
“𝘠𝘦𝘴, 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳.”
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
Because they already understood.
This was bigger than fear.
Bigger than parenthood.
Bigger than personal wishes.
If Garvit possessed this much potential… hiding him from fate would only make fate crueler later.
Master nodded once.
As if expecting nothing else.
Because he had already seen it.
The mana.
The layers of power radiating from the child.
Even stronger than his parents could sense.
Even stronger than most trained warriors.
Garvit…
He had too much potential.
Too much destiny.
Too much future.
Master never ignored such things.
He looked once more at the little boy inside the car.
At the child laughing at floating water.
At the boy who still believed monsters were red and heroes always won.
And Master thought only one thing.
This child will either become something extraordinary… or something terrifying.
There would be no middle path.
Only greatness.
Or destruction.
Nothing in between.
Inside the car, Garvit looked outside.
He smiled brightly.
Then waved enthusiastically.
Completely unaware that his future had just changed forever.
Master stared at him for a moment.
Then, for the first time that night— he smiled.
Very slightly.
Very faintly.
Like someone watching the beginning of a storm.
And far above them— the night sky remained silent.
As if even the stars were waiting to see what kind of man this child would become.