Yelena took a slow sip from her glass, the cold bile rich and tangy on her tongue. She held it in her mouth for a mont, savoring it, before swallowing with a soft sigh.
Her eyes lingered on the surface of the drink as she gently set it down. A wistful smile crept onto her lips, a private little thing that wasn’t ant for anyone else.
She hadn’t expected this day to co. The day she would sit down like this and talk to Charlotte, not as her little girl who still reached for her in the night, but as soone growing older, soone who deserved the truth.
A truth Yelena had carried quietly for years. It made her realize just how fast ti had passed, how quickly her little girl had grown. And now, there was no avoiding it. No more sidestepping.
It was ti.
She leaned forward slowly, her elbows resting on her knees, hands folded together, her expression softening.
"To start all this off..." She began, her voice low, carrying a warmth that Charlotte always found comforting. " Well...honestly don’t even know where to begin. It’s complicated. Very complicated. It goes here and there, and if I try to explain it all at once, it’ll just tangle up even more."
She let out a short sigh, a breath caught sowhere between amusent and resignation.
"But if I have to begin..." She paused, her gaze eting Charlotte’s gently. "Then I think I have to start with Mika’s mother."
Charlotte blinked once. And then her eyes widened.
"Mika’s mother...You an...Auntie Yuna?" She asked, her voice full of disbelief. "The one all of you always talked about like she was so mythical being?"
Yelena gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Yes. That Auntie Yuna."
Charlotte opened her mouth, but no words ca out. And so Yelena continued, lifting her hand slightly.
"Her identity...is a secret in its own right. Actually..." She let out a small laugh. "...it’s more secretive than Mika’s abilities, if you can believe it."
She leaned back again, brushing her fingers along the rim of the cup absentmindedly.
"So I won’t go too deep into who she really was. That...level of secret is for another day. Maybe one you’ll have to hear from Mika himself. Or maybe not even then." She sighed, almost wistfully. "Even Mika doesn’t know much about his own mother."
Charlotte nodded slowly. It was true.
Even though she’d grown up hearing all these stories, all these passing ntions, about this woman her aunts and mothers revered like a legend, like an older sister, like soone who’d always been there for them, wiser, braver, stronger, they never, ever talked about her personally.
No one ever said where she ca from, what she truly did, or how she t Mika’s father, or how she died. It was always admiration, always reverence. But never facts. It was almost as if speaking about her beyond that would break so sacred vow.
And Mika, even Mika had never given her much.
Whenever she asked him about his mother, he would only smile, softly, fondly, and shake his head.
"I don’t know much." He’d always say, like it didn’t bother him at all. Like it was just how things were.
Yelena looked over at Charlotte with an almost bittersweet expression.
"All I can say about her...is that she was incredible, Charlotte." She said, her voice steady and full of conviction. "Truly incredible. People think the reason the world is still standing is because of us. Because of the Battle Angels. Because of the things we did in that war."
"But what they don’t know...what they could never understand...is that without her, without Mika’s mother, we would’ve all been gone. Long before the war even reached its peak."
Charlotte swallowed, her throat tight.
"She was the reason the world still exists today."
Yelena smiled faintly. Her eyes had that distant shine again, as if she were peering through ti.
"She was also the most brilliant woman I’ve ever t. Maybe the most brilliant this world has ever seen. Her intelligence was...well, there’s no other way to put it, it was a blessing in itself. Not one granted by any god or artifact. It was just her. Her mind was like nothing else."
Charlotte’s lips parted slightly, her chest rising and falling slower now as she listened.
"And one more thing you need to know about her..." Yelena continued, now sitting upright again, her gaze growing more solemn. "She was human. Entirely, fully human."
She paused, letting that sink in.
"But even though she was human...she was more capable than most of the blessed people I’ve known. More capable than almost all of them."
"There wasn’t a mountain she couldn’t climb. There wasn’t a problem she couldn’t solve. She didn’t need powers to be extraordinary."
Yelena smiled gently, the corners of her lips lifting in a mix of fondness and quiet awe.
"That’s why..." She said softly, her eyes fixed on sothing distant, as though looking through ti. "When we heard that Mika was going to be born, when we found out that she was pregnant, everyone just assud the baby would be human. No one even gave it a second thought."
She let out a light chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief.
"You see, there’s rarely any expectation when a human woman gets pregnant. It’s only when two blessed individuals marry and have a child together that people begin to hope, or fear, that the baby might inherit so kind of divine trait."
"...But her? She was a human. An extraordinary one, yes, but still human. And so, naturally, the expectation was that Mika would be normal too."
Her eyes crinkled with nostalgia.
"If anything..." She added with a sly smile. "People just thought he’d grow up to be a little more handso than average. Because his mother, well...she was beautiful. Remarkably so. But that was all anyone anticipated. A normal child. A human boy with a nice face, maybe a bit stubborn like her."
Yelena gave a low laugh to herself, the sound warm and fond.
"But then Mika was actually born..." She said, her tone deepening. "And everything changed. Everything."
Charlotte leaned in, instinctively drawn by the gravity in her mama’s voice.
"Wait..." She said, her brows furrowed in curiosity. "What happened? Why? What made him so strange even as a baby?"
Yelena turned to her daughter with a small, proud grin. Her eyes were alight with mory.
"I’ll never forget that mont." She murmured. "The way the room fell silent. The way the nurses stopped moving. The way the lights flickered all over the city for a couple of minutes, as if the whole world felt it. Like the air around him shifted."
She exhaled deeply, then continued,
"There were two things about Mika...two things that were completely unique to him, even as a newborn. The first..."
She said, pausing for effect.
"...was that from the very mont he was born, Mika’s body had a limitless supply of mana that his body generated on its own."
Charlotte’s eyes widened.
"Wait...what?" She asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "That can’t be right. Everyone has limited mana in their bodies. That’s just...basic."
She gestured with her hands, trying to wrap her head around the claim.
"No one generates mana." She went on. "We take it from the environnt. From nature, from leylines, from crystallised forms of mana. That’s the rule."
"The body stores mana, it doesn’t create it. That’s why people train. That’s why we ditate. To gather it. There’s never been a single case where soone just...made mana from their own body!"
Yelena gave her a knowing look and gently knocked her knuckles against Charlotte’s head with a grin.
"And yet...Mika did."
Charlotte blinked.
"That’s not—"
"It is." Yelena interrupted, voice quiet but firm. "That’s what made him an anomaly. He didn’t pull mana from outside. He didn’t ditate. He didn’t rely on nature. His own body...generated it."
"A ceaseless, boundless flow of mana, as if his veins were made of mana itself. The mont he opened his eyes, the instrunts started reacting to him. The runes etched into the walls began to glow. The air around him was thick with power. And even the blessed around the area could feel as if a tsunami of mana was entering the world."
She leaned forward a bit, her tone lowering with intensity.
"In fact, when they ran tests on him, when they tried to asure just how much mana he had, none of the tools worked properly. They couldn’t scale it. Couldn’t calculate it."
"The only thing they could determine...was that if his body were to be used as a mana source, he could power an entire city. Not just for a few minutes. Not for an hour. Not for days, weeks, months or years. He could power it without stopping. Without strain."
Charlotte’s mouth fell open.
"T-That’s insane." She whispered.
Yelena nodded.
"We found out that his body was like a living mana reactor. A self-generating powerhouse. Like a walking, breathing factory of energy. There’s no comparison. No one had ever seen anything like it. Not in the history books. Not in prophecy. Not in the archives of the Sanctum. Nothing."
She smiled, almost to herself now, as if still amazed even after all these years.
"And the most ironic part?" She added. "We had no expectations from him. None. We thought we’d be getting a sweet, normal boy with his mother’s eyes and a quiet life ahead of him. But instead...we got him. We got Mika."
Her gaze lifted slowly, resting on the ceiling, as if the boy in question were already too far beyond for her words to ever reach.
"Nothing about him was ever ant to be normal." She said. "Not even from the start."
Yelena’s gaze lingered on the ceiling just a little longer, her eyes distant, as though searching for a version of the past that might’ve gone differently.
Then, slowly, she brought her focus back to Charlotte, her expression sobering with a quiet breath.
"That’s why..." She began again, her voice asured, steady, but carrying a current of emotion underneath. "...after we found out what was inside him, what he could be, all of us, all of your Aunts, we couldn’t help it. We were excited. Not just curious or impressed. Truly excited."
She smiled faintly at the mory, but there was a heaviness to it.
"Because if a child like Mika...a boy with infinite mana...ever awakened a blessing, even a minor one, it would’ve ant his potential was, truly, limitless."
She leaned forward, her fingers slowly curling around the glass in her hand again.
"Just think about it. Most of us are shackled by the reality of our limits. We train to hold more mana. We fight to increase our affinity. Even the strongest Blessed warriors, your aunts, even , we all have to calculate every move based on how much we can afford to spend. A single misstep could drain us dry in a battle. That’s the natural law we all live under."
She took a slow sip from her drink, then set it down gently with a dull clink.
"But Mika...he was born outside of that law. He has no such limit. His body generates mana endlessly, ceaselessly. If he were to receive even the smallest blessing...if the gods had given him anything, even a low-tier elental affinity...he could’ve beco the strongest being alive. Period."
She paused, letting the words hang in the air.
"There would’ve been no ceiling for him. No end to how far he could climb. A warrior who never tires. A mage who never runs dry. A summoner who could keep an entire army sustained on his own. Do you understand what that ans, Charlotte?"
Charlotte slowly nodded, her lips parted slightly in astonishnt.
"The thought of it was...intoxicating." Yelena admitted. "Even we, hardened as we are, couldn’t help but let our imaginations run wild. And so we waited. We waited for the signs. A flicker of divine power. A glowing mark. A dream. Anything."
She looked down at her hands, voice lowering.
"Usually, children show signs of a blessing around age five. Sotis a little earlier, sotis a little later. So we told ourselves to be patient."
"...But...five passed. Then six. Then seven."
Yelena closed her eyes for a mont, and when she opened them again, there was a quiet sadness in them.
"By the ti he turned eight...there was nothing. No blessing. No divine mark. Not even the faintest sign. Just...silence."
Charlotte’s expression dropped. Her fingers clenched into her lap, and her voice ca out barely above a whisper.
"I rember..." She said slowly. "He never talked about it. Never showed he cared. But I could tell...he knew. And he...he tried to smile anyway."
Yelena nodded solemnly.
"Yes." She said. "Even after all that waiting, all that hope...the truth was clear. Mika would never awaken a blessing. And when that realization ca crashing down...we were devastated."
She leaned back slightly in her seat, rubbing her hands together as though trying to warm them.
"It was...more than just disappointing. It was tragic. Because as unbelievable as infinite mana is...it’s useless without a blessing. That’s how the world works."
"...Mana is just the fuel. But the blessing? That’s the key. That’s what allows a person to wield it, to use it."
Yelena frowned, her voice taking a darker turn.
"Without a blessing, you can’t shape mana. You can’t conjure spells, or wield divine weapons, or enhance your body."
"It’s like...having a vast, glowing sea of magic inside your body, but no vessel to pour it into."
"Like being born with a library of spells in your blood, but no language to read them. You’re surrounded by power...but it’s caged."
Charlotte’s brows furrowed, her lips pressed tight. Yelena could see that she understood.
"That’s why, when we realized he couldn’t use any of it...the only option that remained was horrifying."
She looked Charlotte dead in the eyes, her tone now low and grave.
"If the world were to find out...that there existed a boy who had infinite mana but no blessing, they wouldn’t see a child. They’d see a battery. An unlimited power source. A living nuclear reactor."
Charlotte’s breath hitched.
"They’d put him in a chamber. Hook him up to conduits. Treat him like a living power plant. He would never see the sky again. Never walk freely. Never live. They would use him to power their cities. Their weapons. Their wars."
Her fists clenched, her eyes steeled.
"And that’s sothing I would never let happen. None of us would."
Charlotte’s heart pounded. She could already imagine it, Mika trapped in so underground facility, tubes piercing his body, drained like an endless well, always kept alive, always used.
A shiver ran down her spine.
"That’s why..." Yelena continued, her voice softening slightly. "We sealed the truth. We shut it down. We never spoke of it again. Not in front of you, not in front of the others, not even in our own ho. Not a word. It beca a forbidden topic, buried deep. Even Mika himself stopped asking."
Charlotte nodded slowly, understanding now why it had always been such a silent, sacred space around him. Why no one ever questioned his powers, or lack thereof.
"But at the sa ti, even though it was a unfortunate situation, we didn’t worry about it too much."
Yelena looked at her with a warm smile.
"Because at the end of the day...blessing or not...he was still her son. And he was still our Mika. The sa boy we held as a baby. The sa boy who grew up laughing in our gardens. And nothing, not power, not potential, not prophecy, nothing could change how much we loved him."
She exhaled through her nose, then added with a slightly amused glint in her eye.
"Besides...he had the protection of five of the most powerful won in the world. Even if he had no powers, no blessing, no weapon, who in their right mind would dare touch him?"
Charlotte chuckled softly, nodding. "He’d still be fine. Honestly...even without you guys, I’d protect him too and so will those other girls as well with how much they love him."
Yelena gave a warm smile at that.
"And that’s exactly what we thought. We believed that Mika could live a quiet life. A happy one. Even if he was powerless, we’d protect him. And when he grew older, you and your sisters...you’d protect him too."
Charlotte looked down for a mont, her voice quiet. "And we still will."
Yelena nodded slowly.
"But then..." She said, the corner of her mouth curling upward again into a knowing, wry smile. "Just like how he was born with no expectations at all...Mika did what he always does."
Charlotte blinked, sitting up straighter, while Yelena’s smile widened ever so slightly.
"He broke every rule. Shattered every assumption. And made the impossible...possible."
Charlotte’s throat tightened. She could feel it.
She was about to learn the truth.
The truth behind Mika.
Behind what he really was.
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