Father and Son

After Count Chase excused himself to give us some private family time, I continued talking to my parents.

"You've changed a lot, Arthur," my mother said, her hand resting gently on mine. Her warmth and affection made me want to sink into the comfort of this moment.

I nodded.

"Before, it seemed like nothing in the world interested you," my father added, his voice thoughtful. "I'm glad to see this change in you."

I kept my expression steady, even though his words struck a chord. Yes, Arthur Nightingale had been like that. Even in the memories I inherited, there was a distinct lack of emotion. He felt the love of his parents and those around him, but he never responded to it properly—like he was just going through the motions, more robot than human.

I hadn't thought about it much before. Maybe I was too focused on getting stronger, or maybe no one had mentioned it until now. It seemed my parents were simply too happy with the change to comment on it earlier.

Honestly, it was strange—like a piece of the puzzle that didn't quite fit.

I snapped back to the present when my mother's soft voice broke through my thoughts. "So, Art, do you have anyone special?" she asked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"No," I replied, though thoughts of both Cecilia and Seraphina crept into my mind, along with the words they'd shared with me in private.

'Speaking of Cecilia, I hope she doesn't show up here unannounced like last time,' I thought.

"Hmmm," my mother hummed teasingly, her eyes sparkling. "I thought my charming son received family insignias from three princesses last time?"

I tensed slightly at her comment.

Right, all three of them had given me their insignias, granting me permission to visit their estates whenever I wished.

It was something quite unprecedented. Very few had the privilege of access to the Creighton estate, the Slatemark Imperial Palace, and the Mount Hua sect, let alone being treated as a VIP guest at each one.

Normally, only someone of Marquis rank or similar standing would be afforded such a privilege.

"Well, it's... more of a formality," I said, trying to downplay it, though I knew my mother wasn't buying it.

She raised an eyebrow, her smile widening knowingly. "Oh, just a formality, is it? I suppose it's common for these young ladies to offer such gestures to someone they barely know."

I could only offer a small smile in return. There was no point in arguing, especially when she had that look on her face. "I guess I've just been fortunate."

"Fortunate indeed," my father chimed in, his eyes twinkling. "Though I hope you understand the significance of what you've been given, Arthur. These are not just simple gifts—they're symbols of trust and respect."

I nodded, fully aware of the weight behind each insignia. To be granted unrestricted access to places so heavily guarded and closed off to outsiders wasn't just a gesture of friendship—it was a statement of trust, a connection that came with both privileges and responsibilities.

Still, I had to remember that those who gave me these insignias were teenage girls. Despite their maturity, as expected from princesses, they were still young and not always entirely logical in their decisions. Especially considering everything they had endured during their childhoods.

"Enough of the heavy talk," my father interjected with a grin. "How about a spar, Art? I want to see just how much you've grown since last time."

I smiled, meeting his gaze. "It would be an honor."

We made our way to the training grounds behind the manor. The area was spacious, surrounded by a tall stone wall that offered privacy and a sense of security. It had been my father's favored place for sparring ever since I was a child, and despite the countless hours I had spent training at the academy, there was something comforting about returning here.

My father handed me a practice sword—a familiar weight in my hands. He took up his stance across from me, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. He wasn't -rank or someone who had surpassed the Wall, but the way he carried himself spoke of years of experience—someone who had honed his skills through a lifetime of battle and discipline.

Of course, he still held a mana rank above me, which made a significant difference.

But now, I surpassed him in swordsmanship. I had my own Grade 6 art, while my father practiced a Grade 4 art. The last time I faced him was before I received Luna's will, and since then, my strength had grown tremendously. I had reached a level where I could take on some -rankers in battle.

Even so, I wasn't entirely sure I could beat my father. He was, after all, someone who had reached the Wall—a formidable barrier of strength and mastery that only the most experienced could overcome.

Even though he was unable to surpass the Wall, that didn't mean my father was weak.

After all, only a small fraction of those who reached -rank ever managed to reach -rank.

He assumed his fighting stance, ambient mana swirling around him as he exerted his influence on the surroundings. Without warning, he launched blasts of ambient mana toward me.

A smile tugged at my lips as Luna's sigils lit up along my arms. I activated Lucent Harmony—though not at its full strength yet.

Combining it with my -rank mana core, I effortlessly dispelled his mana attacks, cutting through them as if they were nothing.

Seeing his attacks dissipate so easily, my father's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of approval before he refocused. He adjusted his stance, ambient mana swirling around him, the weight of his Integration Rank power palpable. The air grew heavy as he gathered more mana, showing the true difference in our ranks.

"Not bad," he called out, his voice calm but confident. "But let's see if you can handle this."

In the blink of an eye, he moved. The ground beneath him cracked from the force of his launch, and he was on me almost instantly, his sword cutting down with precision. I barely managed to raise my blade in time, reinforcing it with mana as I blocked the strike. The impact sent a shockwave through my arms, and I slid back, my feet digging into the ground for balance.

He didn't let up. He pressed the attack, his strikes relentless—each one carrying immense weight, a testament to the power of an Integration Rank fighter. His movements were seamless, flowing from one attack to the next, and it was all I could do to keep up, my body straining under the pressure.

"You're holding back," he said, his eyes meeting mine as he brought his sword down in a powerful overhead slash.

I gritted my teeth, channeling more mana through my core, and activated Lucent Harmony fully. The sigils on my arms flared, glowing with an ethereal light, and my body seemed to grow lighter, my movements more fluid.

I sidestepped his strike, feeling the wind from his blade as it passed by, and countered with a swift horizontal slash. He twisted his body, parrying with ease, but I didn't stop. I flowed into the next attack, my sword moving with precision, each strike aimed to break his guard.

My father grunted in approval, his mana surging as he met my attacks head-on. He swung his sword in a wide arc, forcing me to jump back, and then lunged forward with a thrust. I twisted, narrowly dodging, and used the momentum to spin behind him, bringing my sword down with a burst of mana.

He blocked just in time, our swords clashing with a burst of sparks. The force of the collision pushed us apart, and we both took a moment to assess each other.

He smiled, a glint of pride in his eyes. "That's more like it."

I knew I had to do more if I wanted to turn the tide. With a deep breath, I reached for Seraphim's Embrace, the artifact on my wrist glowing as I drew upon its power. The artifact flared to life, enveloping me in a radiant aura. It was time to end this, and I knew exactly how.

My father's stance shifted, recognizing the change. He wasn't going to make it easy for me.

I activated God Flash: Absolute.

Time seemed to slow as the power of Seraphim's Embrace merged with Lucent Harmony, my entire body becoming a blur of light. I disappeared from view, reappearing behind my father with blinding speed. My sword, now empowered by the artifact, glowed with an intense brilliance as I brought it down in a decisive strike.

But my father, with years of battle-hardened instincts, reacted at the last possible moment. He spun, his sword moving in a sweeping arc, the mana around him condensing into a shield as he met my blade head-on.

The collision was explosive—a shockwave rippled through the training ground, the force sending dust and debris flying. For a moment, it seemed like my strike would break through, the radiant energy pushing against his defenses.

But then, with a final surge of mana, my father deflected my blade, redirecting the energy away from him. I stumbled, the power of God Flash: Absolute dissipating as I struggled to regain my balance.

Before I could recover, my father stepped in, his practice sword stopping just inches from my side.

We both froze, breathing heavily, the glow from my sigils slowly fading. He lowered his sword, a smile spreading across his face as he stepped back. "That was incredible, Arthur. You almost had me."

I straightened, catching my breath, my heart pounding from the exertion. "Thank you, Father," I said, a smile tugging at my lips. "I gave it everything I had."