The house was beautiful—just a normal home without magical protections. A lovely structure near a magical lake where fairies gathered, and a forest hidden from humans in plain sight. It was still daytime, late afternoon, but they could still go into town for food.

Kaius was also thinking: if the house was empty, maybe he could buy some furniture.

They reached the porch, opened the door, and found a fully functional house—for a normal person. It was strange. Kaius never imagined someone would leave without taking their belongings.

He dropped the bags in the living room. It was a standard sitting room with a fireplace, armchairs, and a black wooden table that looked far too old.

Kaius explored the house to make sure no one was hiding inside. There were four bedrooms—each empty, with simple beds and basic furnishings. No living beings.

He came back downstairs… and saw the door open.

Dilan was nowhere to be found.

—Dilan! Where are you?!

Kaius ran out, searching for him. He checked the nearby lake—nothing. He ran through the forest. Then he remembered: he could track him.

He channeled his magic, focused on Dilan, and launched a golden orb. It flew ahead, and Kaius chased it until it reached a meadow.

There was Dilan—playing with tiny lights. Kaius knew immediately: they were fairies.

But instead of calming down, he panicked.

Fairies saw generational sorcerers—or “dirty warlocks”—as taboo. Some had even killed or devoured them alive. Fairies weren’t as sweet as people thought. They had human-like forms and beautiful wings—but they fed on life energy. Their favorites were humans. And if they were sorcerers, they drained them until nothing remained.

Kaius ran to Dilan and pulled him behind him.

—Leave him alone!

He used wind magic with one hand, sending a freezing gust to push them back. He knew fairies were sensitive to cold. He didn’t want to kill them—just drive them away.

Then, in the center of the meadow, a cocoon of plants appeared.

From it emerged a stunning man with long white hair. His eyes shimmered violet and blue. His smile was playful at first—but when he saw Kaius, it shifted to a mix of joy and fear.

Kaius told Dilan to step back. He approached the figure, knowing exactly who he was.

The angels had warned him about the Fairy King—Krismey—and his hatred for sorcerers.

Then Krismey spoke:

—Child of primordial nature, you are welcome in my realm. Though we are curious about the young one behind you. He carries the filthy, bloodstained magic we despise. We merely protect our home from his taboo race. You cannot blame us for attacking him.

Kaius remembered the taboo of sorcerer creation. He never imagined the hatred ran so deep—that even a child couldn’t set foot in their territory.

But he also remembered: Dilan was an Eye. Maybe that would save him.

He didn’t want to make enemies. So he performed the fairy gesture of surrender—left arm across the right wrist.

—I greet you with respect, King Krismey, ruler of the fairies and these lands. I thank you for your hospitality. However, I beg mercy for my ward. He was born with impure magic, but he never used it by choice. He is an Eye of the Ark. I ask that you allow him to stay here with me. I will teach him the truth of our world’s magic. I have permission from the high angels. I swear it on the rest of my soul.

Krismey stood still, his expression like the Cheshire Cat—mocking, unreadable. But Kaius could see through it: confusion and disbelief.

Krismey suspected Kaius might be lying. But the soul oath was powerful. If Kaius were lying, his body would be covered in black veins. He might even lose part of himself. That oath cost a piece of the soul—and it showed.

Krismey liked to quote a human poem he had rewritten: “What afflicts the soul, the body reflects.”

Still, he was intrigued by the boy and his mentor. He would give them a chance.

—Child of primordial nature, I am intrigued by the story of that young one. Allow me to invite you to lunch—and tell me his tale.

A table appeared before them, filled with sweets, candies, tea, and coffee.

Kaius accepted. He sensed Krismey’s emotions—curiosity, not rage. That was better.

He called Dilan and explained to be polite with the man. Dilan agreed, knowing this might help them stay together forever.

They sat and ate. It was already late for Dilan. Krim—as Kaius called him mentally—stared at Dilan silently while they ate.

Later, Dilan asked if he could play in the meadow. Krismey agreed.

Once Dilan left, Kaius began.

—I’m grateful you didn’t let Dilan hear this. It’s too traumatic for him—especially after being trapped in a loop.

—Tell me more, sweet child of primordial nature.

—Please, just call me Kaius.

Kaius and Krim spent hours talking about Kaius’s life—and what was to come. Kaius said he was a seer. He couldn’t mention the novel, so he explained it as a prophetic gift.

After hearing the story, Krim understood: the boy wasn’t like those fanatics. And Kaius had ensured that the group of sorcerers—whom Krim refused to call a coven—could never have new leaders. The fratricide had ended that.

Krim felt sorrow that such a gentle boy—kind to souls and his own kind—had been forced to do something terrible. But he knew: when someone explodes after years of abuse, no one can predict how it manifests. Especially in a child treated like a monster his whole life.

Krim didn’t think it was right—but he couldn’t pity the sorcerers either. They were adults—or old enough to know what their parents were doing. That wasn’t okay.

After the meal, Krim approached the boy.

—Sweet child born of something horrible, do not grieve your origin. Here, you will never be judged for it. You are more than welcome to stay here with your mentor, if that is what you wish.

Dilan looked up with shining eyes.

—I just want to live happily with my big brother.

Like Kaius, Krim had a gift—he could sense truth. Whether someone spoke it fully, partially, or twisted it.

He saw that Dilan spoke the full truth. His love for Kaius—his brother—was real.

It was nighttime. Krim walked them home, lighting the way. Kaius could see in the dark, but the light comforted Dilan. And the fairies enchanted him.

That was enough for Kaius.

They reached the house. Dilan went up to bathe. Afterward, he fell asleep.

Kaius stayed up talking with Krim about his abilities—his mineral and plant creations. Kaius offered to provide anything they needed… for a small price.

Months passed.

Dilan practiced magic daily, and Kaius helped the fairies with their crystals, his new garden of special plants, and the mines he had created using magical stones and items from the enchanted store.

He had fully prepared the house. From the outside, it still looked like a simple cabin—but inside, it held omega-level expansion magic, an omega-level heart, new furniture, protective crystals throughout, and magic recovery stones. Of course, that required a massive supply of blood. He now had a refrigerator packed with blood bags and needed frequent rest.

As for the fairies, they had grown fond of both Dilan and Kaius.

Dilan was a sweet child, eager to learn something different from the teachings of his past. They treated him like a baby—calling him “wingless fairy baby.” He played with them, learned from them, told stories, and listened to theirs.

Kaius, meanwhile, helped when the fairies fell ill—rare, but it happened. He even created a special crystal that produced an illusory mist to hide them from humans, giving them more freedom to roam the forest. He also provided potions at fair prices.

Kaius made sure to celebrate everything Dilan had missed—Christmas, Halloween—and even took him to visit the nearby mermaids. They were ambitious, but Kaius was more cunning. He offered them a trade agreement for crystals.

They accepted—not for money, since they didn’t use it—but in exchange for sea gems, pearls (which they considered worthless), ocean diamonds, and some gold. They used magic to extract these.

Kaius accepted. With all the wealth he had, he opened a jewelry store in the city, specializing in diamonds and pearls. He crafted every piece himself and hired a specialist to certify the authenticity of his creations. That way, he could run a business without drawing attention for his fortune.

Over time, he created several clones using a replication crystal. With a transmutation crystal, he created a butler for the house, a few workers, and a manager for the store.

Twelve months had passed.

One year.

It was time to go.

The story was beginning, and he couldn’t stop it.

Kaius spoke to Dilan about what he had to do—omitting the novel and the future. He simply explained that the angels had told him the future had to unfold as planned, and that eventually, the world would return to normal and balance would be restored.

Dilan cried and begged to go with him. But Kaius explained he couldn’t. He would have to act cruel—and didn’t want Dilan to see him that way.

He promised to visit using the teleportation crystals embedded in his body.

Dilan, though unhappy, understood.

Kaius also spoke with Krim—and told him the truth. That his destiny was written and tied to the future of many people. But only a part of it. If he followed it, he could rewrite some pieces—and that would be enough.

He spoke with the angels. They explained that he could change small things, and by doing so, the fate of his world would break and reshape into something new.

Krim offered to care for and protect Dilan. Kaius accepted his friend’s offer.

He spent his final days of peace with Dilan—planting new species in their little garden, having breakfast with Krim, and dancing under the blue moonlight with the fairies. That only happened once a month… and he only got to do it once.

The next day, he had to leave.

He had bought a car. Packed his luggage. His inventory was full of potion ingredients and precious stones.

He hugged Dilan goodbye, climbed into the car, and drove off down the road—knowing he’d have to fake his personality.

He had hours to rehearse.

But soon, he’d realize that being a cynical, petulant antihero… came so naturally to him, it was almost frightening.