...
I wouldn’t be the man I am today if it wasn’t for you. This is a token of appreciation. For more wins to co!
Love, Garrick.
...
Zephyrion imdiately flung the letter away with faint disgust on his face. He barely resisted the urge to burn it into ashes on the spot.
Shaking his head, he lifted the sack slightly and gauged its weight.
"Five thousand."
Zephyrion smiled.
It was an absurd amount of money, and considering who Garrick was, there was no mystery where it had co from. Gambling.
Still, if the man was willing to casually hand him this much, it only ant Garrick himself had earned sothing even more ridiculous.
Zephyrion suddenly felt a trace of regret. In hindsight, he probably should have placed bets himself.
’Next ti.’
A mont later, his gaze shifted toward the second sack.
Unlike Garrick’s, this one had an ordinary note attached to it. Plain. Simple. Completely lacking any unnecessary nonsense.
Zephyrion picked it up and opened it.
...
Your share.
Kastor.
...
The words were as blunt and direct as the full stop beneath them.
Zephyrion narrowed his eyes before lifting the sack.
’Ten thousand...’
Even he was mildly surprised.
Garrick was understandable. Kastor was not.
The Head of House Calderalth hardly seed like the sort of person who would sit around gambling alongside Garrick.
’Unless... he actually is.’
Truthfully, Zephyrion barely knew the man. It wasn’t impossible that Kastor simply hid that side of himself extrely well.
Zephyrion stared at the sack for a long mont, unsure how he was supposed to feel.
Part of him wanted to return it imdiately.
His relationship with his father was... complicated. The last thing Zephyrion wanted was for the man to misunderstand things and assu they had suddenly reached the point where they could casually exchange gifts.
He did not deserve that sort of familiarity.
A faint irritation suddenly stirred within Zephyrion’s chest.
"Tch."
He exhaled slowly and forcibly suppressed it before carefully setting the gold back down.
’It’s illogical.’
This was a resource. One he needed if he intended to achieve his goals. Allowing emotions to interfere with logic was foolish. Irrational.
And Zephyrion was not irrational.
After calming himself, he pushed the matter aside along with the gold, already deciding how he intended to use it. Then his attention shifted toward sothing far more important.
The Proving.
Everything had unfolded almost exactly as he anticipated, with barely any aningful deviations. Yet the greatest thing he had gained from the entire event was undoubtedly the rune arts of the high houses.
’Mind Map.’
Five separate seas of runes materialized before his eyes.
The first belonged to House Hartvain, an art capable of transforming the body into sothing resembling a living tal fortress.
The second belonged to House Korrath. Though Zephyrion suspected what Kaelith had revealed was likely the Old Master’s personal art rather than his house art.
Still, the ability to compress tal beyond normal physical limitations was an ability Zephyrion found extrely intriguing.
Even now, he could tell what he had copied was rely the foundation of the true art. There were clearly deeper layers hidden underneath it. Unfortunately, his ability to copy rune arts only functioned while they were actively being used.
He had attempted to peer further into the inheritance itself, but it had remained completely unresponsive.
It seed direct access was necessary.
The third belonged to House Donvaire, an art capable of propelling projectiles at near-light speeds. It resembled Slip State to a certain extent, though it was far more refined and heavily focused on external objects rather than the user themselves.
The fourth was House Heno, whose art granted magnetic properties to tal.
And finally... House Ocren.
Aside from the Heir’s Art, Zephyrion considered theirs one of the most dangerous.
Their rune art granted them the ability to induce ultra-high-frequency vibrations within tal, generating imnse heat while simultaneously enhancing speed and destructive force to absurd levels.
Zephyrion had witnessed that power personally.
After reviewing each of the arts once more, he gave a slight nod before dismissing the Mind Map entirely.
A mont later, after briefly pondering sothing, he stepped out of his room and headed toward the mansion’s training grounds.
There, Zephyrion slowly closed his eyes and took a asured breath.
One of the main reasons he had wanted all five arts instead of simply pursuing the strongest one ca down to a single concept.
Combination.
Zephyrion opened his eyes and raised a hand.
Five gleaming blades materialized before him before rapidly compressing into impossibly thin forms. Their surfaces gradually smoothed until they almost seed to blend into the surrounding air.
Ahead of him, five circular tal targets ford.
Silence lingered for a brief mont, then, Zephyrion lowered his arm.
The blades appeared to vanish completely.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Zephyrion stared at the shattered targets as a slow smile spread across his face.
The blades had moved so fast it resembled teleportation more than motion.
To achieve this, he had used the Korrath compression art to shrink and densify the tal, the Donvaire art to minimize movent resistance, and the Heno magnetic art to generate an overwhelming pull between the blades and their targets.
The result... was this.
Zephyrion gave a satisfied nod. Then he suddenly felt a faint pressure inside his mind and frowned.
The instant he released the restraints, Demorian, who had been sealed away the entire ti, burst outward.
"My protégé!"
Demorian stared at him with trembling eyes before abruptly turning away and pacing back and forth while aggressively biting at his nails.
"No, no, no... this is nonsense! Absolute nonsense! What in the hell did I just witness!? Is that even legal!?"
Zephyrion watched the old man’s frantic display with a faint frown.
"...Is sothing wrong?"
"Is sothing wrong...?" Demorian froze.
"My protégé..." Demorian slowly turned toward him with twitching eyes. "Did you genuinely just ask if sothing is wrong?"
"...Yes."
"OF COURSE SOTHING IS WRONG!" Demorian exploded.
"What you just did shouldn’t even make sense! Rune arts are complete systems! Complete expressions already! And you just took three completely different arts and mashed them together like you were throwing ingredients into a soup pot!"
He dragged a hand down his face.
"Do you know how long people spend trying to make different arts compatible? Years! Decades! Entire lifetis!"
Then he jabbed a finger at Zephyrion again.
"And you..." His face twitched. "You did it in seconds! Seconds! What in the hell are you!?"
Zephyrion genuinely could not understand why the old man was reacting so dramatically.
Combining arts had never really been difficult for him. Once he fully comprehended sothing, fitting it together with other concepts usually felt natural. In most cases, his imagination was the only real limitation.
However, there was one more thing he failed to understand.
"...Then why are you angry?"
"Why am I angry?" Demorian repeated in disbelief. "You actually want to know why I’m angry?"
He pointed at himself.
"Back in my era, I was considered a monster among geniuses! I genuinely believed nobody alive could rival my talent! People looked at and despaired!"
Then he pointed at Zephyrion with a trembling hand.
"But you... I don’t even know what to call you anymore! A genius? No! That word feels insulting at this point! What you’re doing is unnatural!"
Demorian suddenly narrowed his eyes suspiciously and leaned closer.
"Tell the truth."
"...?"
"What did your mother eat while pregnant with you?"
"...What?"
"There’s no way this is normal! Did she swallow ancient dragon marrow or sothing!? Divine fruit? A dead god!?"
"..."
When no answer ca, Demorian resud pacing in frantic circles while muttering incomprehensible nonsense under his breath. Eventually, he collapsed flat onto the ground and stared lifelessly toward the night sky.
"...You’ll be the death of , my protégé."
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