And that's how I convinced that shady merchant. I always have to brew these kinds of potions if I want to buy valuable materials from a depraved guy like him. Who knows what he'll do with them… I really need to find a new merchant ASAP, I thought, frustrated.

Don: "Thanks. I'm leaving… Oh, wait—look at this and tell me: What do you think happened?" I showed him the damaged core.

Merchant: "Whoa! That's wild! Never seen damage this bad on the world's toughest metal."

Don: "Could a monster have done it?"

Merchant: "No way. We're too far from the border dangers. Even if one slipped through, Zephyria's top-ranked knights handle that stuff. We're miles from conflict. Why do you think I'm in Duncaster? Soon as I get my trader's permit, I'm moving to Astoria—they say it's a merchant's paradise. I'll get filthy rich, just like God intended!" He grinned, then turned dead serious. "You'll pay for this info, kid."

Don: "Pay? I just asked your opinion!"

Merchant: "Do I look like I care? Knowledge ain't free."

Don: "I urgently need a new merchant…" I muttered. "But if you won't help, my master'll come collect it himself. Just saying." I lied blatantly.

Merchant (panicking): "On second thought, I don't want trouble with your old man. Take it and scram."

Don: "Leaving now."

Merchant: "Say hi to the Owl for me. Haven't seen the legend in ages."

I grabbed my supplies and left, lost in thoughts about my master's reputation. They say he's insanely strong. I remember nothing of his past, but I know he's leagues above me. The seal on my back—the one he says suppresses my elemental powers—means I can't use magic.

Flashback:
Max (snarling): "Attack!"
I lunged, dodging his kicks, but he outclassed me completely. He sidestepped my final strike, kneeing my chin. I blocked, but he twisted my momentum, dislocating my shoulder. I crumpled, screaming.

Max: "Pathetic. For a Supaibi, this is unacceptable." He glared down, voice icy. "You're too weak. Harden your body and mind, or you'll die. I swear on my eyes: I'll make you the fiercest thing alive."

That seal is one of the worst curses. Only a Rank 7 mage could cast it. No matter how hard I train, my magic stays locked. Worse, as a Supaibi, my purpose is magic. Our race bonds deeply with ether—but my ether point is gone. Instead, I radiate something… dark.

Max: "I'll force it out of you. Life brought you to me for a reason. Even sealed, you heal—something's protecting you." He raised his left hand. "Jhanmm!"
A spell crushed me between two invisible forces, compressing my bones.

After that day, I trained nonstop. Max taught me potions, tools, human behavior—everything except magic. My grandmother worried constantly.

Another night:
Grandmother: "Don, do you know who cast that seal? It's… powerful."
Don: "No clue. I've got 44 years of memories, but none before Master rescued me from kidnappers."

Max (storming in): "Stop filling his head with 'family' nonsense. The past is gone. Move forward."

Don: "It doesn't matter. I'm safe here, thanks to you both."

Max: "Sentimental garbage." He stormed out.

Don: "Why's he always so angry?"

Grandmother: "His kind are sworn to protect ether's flow. But something broke his people…"

Max (interrupting): "Enough. Focus on training, boy."

Grandmother: "Let him breathe, Max! He's not immortal!"

Max: "He's lucky you coddle him. But mark my words: I'll beat that kindness out of you. You'll need cruelty to survive."

His glare terrified me.

Don: "Why make me suffer so much?"

Max turned away, almost… laughing?

Max: "Suffering's life's best teacher. Consider this a gift—I'm sparing you 20 years of pain. Remember: live without Influence, Power, or Wealth. Understood?"

Don: "Yes, Master."

Max: "And quit calling yourself '44.' You're 41, idiot."

Don (timidly): "Master… how did you and Grandma meet?"

Max (flustered): "W-What kind of question—?!"

Grandmother (laughing): "Oh, that's a great story!"

Max: "Helena—!"

Grandmother: "Your 'scary owl eyes' don't work on me. I'll tell him anyway."

Max: "Over my dead body."

Grandmother: "Watch your tongue, little bird, or I'll pluck it out."

Her sweet demeanor vanished. That day, I realized neither was what they seemed—yet their bond was unshakable. A fallen king and the woman who tamed his rage. But why did their love fill me with dread?

Back to the present:

"Maybe I'll never be as ruthless as Master wants. He knows it."

Returning to the farm, I found Max waiting, shadowed and stern.

Don: "Master, I've got the parts to fix the scarecrow. Took forever to find that merchant…"

Max: "Hand me the core." His voice trembled.

He inspected the damage, paling.

Max: "This is… catastrophic." Fear flashed—a first.

Don: "Master? What's wrong?"

Max (recovering): "Repair the scarecrow later. Your second task starts now." He tossed me a list and a pouch. "200 gold. Buy these by dawn. My patience is thin."

Don (reading): "Royal tree leaf… empty ring… blue tears? Where? The merchant only sells tool parts!"

Max: "Figure it out. You'll camp out two nights. Go."

Don: "Let me tell Grandma—"

Max: "Go. Now. Or I'll throw you out myself."

Don: "Fine. I'll be back tomorrow."

Max: "Wait." He handed me his tattered, fur-lined coat.

Don: "Why give me this?"

Max: "It'll protect you."

Suddenly, his eyes burned crimson. Veins glowed, claws sprouted, and an owl-like crown materialized. Now I understood Grandma's words: "His eyes are beautiful in the sun."

Don: "See you soon, Master." I bowed, hiding my awe.

Max (softly): "Your grandmother's proud. To us… you're our son." He ruffled my hair. "One last lesson: Be great or be smart—your choice. But never burden those who love you. Clear?"

Don: "Yes, Master… Dad?"

Max: "Go!"

As I left, I glanced back. Max stood rigid, watching me go. Inside, Grandma wept silently. He hugged her, whispering:

Max: "It'll be okay."
Grandmother: "Till death parts us…"

They kissed—a fragile hope in the storm ahead.