Awakening Beneath Scorched Skies
Lavahound Elder let out another quiet sigh.
"Talent... can be cultivated."
"Strength... can be gained."
"But mindset..."
He shook his head slowly, the movent heavy with aning, as if years of experience pressed down on his shoulders.
"...that is what decides everything."
Freddy said nothing.
He simply stood there—
Watching the distant wasteland.
The horizon flickered with a dull red glow, smoke rising in long, twisting streams. The wind carried heat even this far up the wall, dry and suffocating, mixed with the faint tallic scent of blood.
His eyes lingered in that direction, unfocused... yet sharp.
Sothing inside him was shifting.
Not fully understood.
Not fully accepted.
But it was there.
Then—
Lavahound Elder’s voice broke the silence again, softer this ti, almost conversational.
"Freddy... do you know when a person truly loses?"
Freddy blinked, pulled from his thoughts. His brows furrowed slightly as he turned toward the elder.
"...when?" he asked, his voice lower now, lacking the earlier arrogance.
Lavahound Elder smiled faintly.
"When they believe dignity is more important than survival."
Freddy’s fingers twitched.
That line hit deeper than expected.
Before he could respond, one of the nearby experts suddenly spoke up, unable to hold back his curiosity.
"I also heard... that Harry," the man said, hesitating slightly as if unsure how ridiculous it sounded, "even made up a lie and said that he was so filial son."
Another snorted lightly, though there was no mockery in it—only disbelief.
"Yeah... I heard that too. Said he suddenly changed his ways overnight. Started respecting his elders, acting humble..."
Lavahound Elder nodded, not denying it.
"Perhaps Respected Leon took a fancy to that," he said calmly. "And was willing to bring him along."
He paused, then added—
"Although those actions may seem unbearable... even lowly..."
His eyes shifted slightly toward the direction Leon had left.
"...they often buy you a little chance."
The words settled like dust.
Everyone fell silent for a mont.
Then—
A subtle realization spread among them.
Expressions changed.
Eyes widened.
So frowned thoughtfully.
Others exchanged glances.
It was as if a veil had been lifted.
Freddy’s pupils shrank slightly.
So that’s... how it happened?
His mind replayed everything again—
Harry kneeling.
Harry smiling shalessly.
Harry swallowing his pride without hesitation.
At the ti, Freddy had only felt contempt.
Now—
He felt sothing else.
Understanding.
And a faint, bitter regret.
"...Damn it," he muttered inwardly, his jaw tightening. So this is how I lost.
A flicker of frustration rose in his chest.
If I had known earlier...
His thoughts trailed off—
Then hardened.
I would have knelt down too.
The realization hit him like a cold slap.
The main reason wasn’t that he lacked opportunity.
It was that he had been too stunned.
Too proud.
Too slow to react.
And worse—
The two experts beside him had shared the sa temperant.
Arrogant.
Impulsive.
Always ready to fight.
They hadn’t even paused to think.
Who would have expected—
That the other party could nearly kill them with a single strike?
Freddy’s expression darkened at the mory.
That mont—
That overwhelming pressure—
That helplessness—
It lingered.
For the first ti in his life...
He felt inferior.
Not in strength.
Not in talent.
But in sothing far more fundantal.
Temperant.
In the face of danger—
Harry had chosen to survive.
He had swallowed everything and adapted instantly.
But Freddy?
He had frozen.
Like a fool.
"So..." Freddy muttered slowly, his eyes narrowing slightly as a thought ford, "...Respected Leon likes filial sons?"
The question sounded almost absurd.
But to him—
It was logical.
During this period, rumors had already spread.
Harry Taylor—
The once reckless young master—
Had suddenly changed.
He had beco respectful.
Obedient.
Even humble.
He no longer acted arrogantly.
He listened.
He endured.
He adapted.
At first, Freddy had laughed at it.
Now—
He wasn’t laughing anymore.
If that’s what it takes...
A dangerous thought began to take root.
Then why can’t I do the sa?
His heartbeat quickened slightly.
If I perform well...
If I change...
Maybe...
Maybe one day... he won’t see as an enemy anymore.
He didn’t even care about benefits anymore.
Strength.
Resources.
Opportunities.
All of that...
ant nothing compared to one thing.
Survival.
If Leon chose to hold a grudge—
There would be no future.
Not for him.
Not for the Lavahound family.
As long as I can ease that grudge...
Anything is worth it.
Freddy stood there for a long mont.
Thinking.
Turning the idea over again and again.
Then—
Suddenly—
His eyes lit up.
As if he had found the answer.
Clap!
He slapped his hands together, the sound sharp and sudden.
"I understand!" he shouted, startling everyone around him.
"I want to be a filial son too!"
The declaration echoed across the wall.
Silence followed.
Everyone froze.
For a full second—
No one reacted.
Then—
"...Huh?" one of the experts blinked.
"...Did he just say that?"
Freddy didn’t wait.
Without hesitation, he turned around and started heading back toward the Lavahound residence, his steps quick, almost impatient.
He didn’t even look back.
As if he had already decided—
And nothing could stop him.
Behind him—
The group stood there, stunned.
Expressions ranged from disbelief to outright confusion.
"...Did we hear that right?" one of them asked, scratching his head.
"Our young master... wants to be filial?"
Another burst into laughter, unable to hold it in.
"Haha—unbelievable! Did I hear wrong? Young Master actually said he wants to be a filial son too?"
Even those who tried to remain serious couldn’t hide their reactions.
Because this—
This was Freddy Lavahound.
The most arrogant, reckless young master they knew.
And now—
He wanted to beco... filial?
It felt like the world had flipped.
Lavahound Elder, however, did not laugh.
He simply watched Freddy’s departing figure, eyes calm... but faintly relieved.
"...Interesting," he murmured softly.
There was surprise, yes.
But more than that—
There was satisfaction.
At least...
The seed had been planted.
Freddy had begun to think.
And that alone—
Was enough.
Lavahound Elder nodded slightly to himself.
A good start.
He turned his gaze back toward the wasteland, where two figures had long since disappeared into the smoke and flas.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
"I hope this is a good turning point," he said quietly. "Otherwise..."
His voice trailed off for a mont.
"...who will the Lavahound family rely on in the future?"
The question lingered.
Heavy.
Real.
He sighed again, then turned and left.
The others followed.
One by one, the city wall emptied.
But the weight of what had just happened...
Remained.
Because in this world—
Bloodline mattered.
Inheritance mattered.
And Freddy—
Was the future of the Lavahound family.
If he failed—
The entire household would fall with him.
Lavahound Elder understood that better than anyone.
That was why he had spoken those words.
Not to teach.
But to provoke.
To force change.
And judging by the result—
It had worked.
For now.
But whether Freddy could maintain it...
That remained to be seen.
Far beyond the city—
Outside Ashford City—
The world changed.
The mont one stepped past the walls—
Order ended.
The wasteland stretched endlessly ahead, scorched and broken.
A sea of flas burned across the land, devouring everything in its path. Trees stood like blackened skeletons, their branches reaching toward the sky like desperate hands.
The ground was cracked, soaked in darkened blood.
The air—
Thick.
Hot.
Heavy with the scent of death.
Two figures walked through it slowly.
Leon led the way, his steps calm, unhurried, as if the chaos around him was nothing more than passing scenery.
Harry followed closely behind.
At first, he had been excited.
Then curious.
Now—
He was quiet.
His eyes moved across the ground.
Bodies.
Broken weapons.
Scorched earth.
Everywhere he looked—
There was evidence of what had happened here.
And for once—
He didn’t joke.
Didn’t boast.
Didn’t show off.
Because sothing about this place...
Didn’t allow it.
The silence stretched between them.
Then—
"Hmm..."
Harry sniffed lightly.
His brows lifted slightly.
"It slls... kind of good."
A pause.
He tilted his head, genuinely puzzled.
"The sll of roasted at..."
The words slipped out.
Careless.
Unfiltered.
The mont they did—
Leon stopped.
Slowly—
He turned his head.
And without a single word—
Smack...
A clean, sharp slap landed on Harry’s head.
Not hard enough to injure.
But enough to sting.
Harry froze.
His expression blank for a second.
"...Ow."
He blinked.
Confused.
Then—
Realization hit.
His gaze slowly lowered.
To the ground.
To the blackened remains scattered among the flas.
To what he had just called...
"Roasted at."
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