10

"Wield your blade close to you. The goal is to show little to no openings that your opponents can exploit," Jin instructed, his voice steady as he held his gladius close to the center of his body. His stance was rigid yet fluid, like a coiled spring waiting to strike. The young boy in front of him swung his wooden sword with a determined grimace, aiming for the center of Jin's blade, but it merely glanced off with a dull thud. Jin's expression remained unchanged, his dark eyes focused and unyielding.

Three months had passed since the boy first began to suspect Jin of something sinister, but during that time, he had observed nothing that confirmed his doubts. Jin was always calm, composed, and unfazed, no matter the situation. His neutral smile greeted everyone alike, whether in the midst of battle or in the quiet of the manor. Yet, despite the lack of evidence, the young boy couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that Jin was planning something. Seeking answers, he asked Jin for training lessons, hoping to uncover the truth.

At first, the middle-aged man had been reluctant. Alcor hadn't instructed Jin to train the boy, and his initial hesitance was palpable in the tense way he clenched his fists behind his back. But for reasons the kid couldn't fully understand, Jin eventually agreed. Even then, nothing changed. Jin adhered strictly to his role as a mentor, teaching him the basics of swordsmanship with a detached precision and urging him to use these lessons as the foundation for his future fighting style. Occasionally, when the boy fell short of mastering a technique, Jin would reprimand him with a sharp strike to the torso. But afterward, he would kneel beside the boy, his touch gentle as he healed the bruises with a subtle flick of his hand.

One cold morning, the family gathered in the living room, the fireplace's embers casting a dim, wavering light across the room. Despite the warmth of the flames, the atmosphere was heavy, the tension thicker than the frost lining the windows. the young boy's gaze drifted to the knight standing near the door, his golden armor catching the firelight and reflecting it in sharp, flickering patterns. The insignia of a dragon emblazoned on his chest plate seemed to shimmer ominously.

"Aria Mon'draigg," the knight announced, his voice formal and devoid of emotion. "This is an official mission from Lord Archion Soru'draigg. He wishes it to be completed once the moon becomes whole." He saluted sharply, the clinking of his armor echoing in the silent room, before turning on his heel and marching out.

Aria took the scroll from the knight with a steady hand, her face impassive as she unrolled it on the coffee table. Alcor and Jin moved to her side, their eyes scanning the document. A deep frown creased Alcor's brow, and he let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair as if trying to unravel the mission's implications. Aria's expression remained indifferent, though her furrowed brows betrayed a hint of concern. Jin, however, stood eerily still, his face a mask of calm as he read the mission's details. His lack of reaction only added to the boy's unease.

"Allie, tell the knights to prepare for departure," Alcor ordered, his voice taut with barely restrained anxiety. He reached up to grasp the ends of his hair, pulling at them in a gesture of frustration as he tried to make sense of the mission. Allie, sensing the urgency in his tone, nodded quickly and hurried out of the room without a word.

Cynthia, her face pale with worry, reached out instinctively, searching for the boy beside her, only to realize that the kid had already left his spot. Her eyes darted around the room, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Grandma Aria, can I go with you?" he asked with his voice tinged with a mix of innocence and determination, broke the tense silence as he tugged on Aria's dress. Cynthia gasped in horror, her hand flying to her mouth as she moved to scold the boy, but Alcor was quicker. He knelt down in front of the kid, his grip on the boy's shoulders firm, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"What are you asking all of a sudden?" Alcor demanded, his voice trembling with anger and fear. "You can't come with us. It's too dangerous."

"But..." the boy's voice wavered, his eyes searching Alcor's for understanding.

"No buts! This isn't some childish adventure. This is life and death we're talking about. I can't afford to look after you in th—"

"If safety is your concern, Alcor, then I can promise to look after this young child," Jin interrupted, placing a reassuring hand on Alcor's shoulder. His voice was calm, almost too calm, and Alcor looked up at him, stunned that Jin would even suggest such a thing.

"We can't bring him, Jin. This isn't a normal mission. This is..."

"I know, Alcor," Jin replied, his tone firm yet gentle. He glanced down at the moon-shaped pendant hanging around the kid's neck. "But this little one has been training diligently. I think it would be a good opportunity for him to witness a real battle. He can accompany us as my squire. And I believe he might surprise us."

Alcor opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Aria stepped forward, her presence commanding the room's attention. Her sharp eyes bore into the boy's, assessing him with the cold scrutiny of someone who had seen countless battles. The boy, despite the invisible weight of her gaze, stood his ground, his small hands balled into fists at his sides.

"...Very well," Aria finally said, her voice low and authoritative. "I will allow the boy to join us on this mission."

"Granny!" Cynthia's voice cracked with desperation, her hands trembling as she reached for her child, but Aria held up a hand, silencing her.

"Do not be dramatic, both of you," Aria admonished, her tone brooking no argument. "As Jin said, this is an opportunity we cannot pass by." She turned to the married couple, her expression softening slightly. "If it eases your minds, I will personally ensure the boy's safety."

A collective gasp filled the room, and Cynthia and Alcor exchanged reluctant glances before nodding in agreement. Jin, standing beside them, observed the exchange with a thoughtful smile, his eyes lingering on Aria. She returned his gaze, her expression unreadable.

"Do not let me down," Aria said quietly, her eyes locking onto the boy's as if she could see into the very depths of his soul.

---

Silver spears of moonlight spilled across the bedroom floor, casting long shadows that danced in the stillness of the night. The young boy sat by the window, his small frame silhouetted against the pale glow. The goddess leaped down from his head, her tiny paws padding softly on the wooden floor as she joined him at the windowsill. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the upcoming mission heavy between them.

"Will you be okay?" the goddess asked, her voice tinged with concern. She looked up at the boy, her dark eyes wide and questioning, the fur on her back slightly frizzled with anxiety. "This mission... why do you want to join them?"

"...I'm not sure myself," He murmured, his gaze distant as he fiddled with the moon necklace hanging around his neck. The cool metal felt oddly reassuring against his skin. "But... I feel like this is tied to the future I saw."

"Really? How can you tell?" the goddess inquired, tilting her head as she watched him intently.

"Uncle Jin's reaction to the mission," The kid said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Even Granny Aria seemed worried, but he was... calm. Almost as if..."

"...He was expecting it?" the goddess finished his thought, her tone solemn. The kid nodded slowly, his grip tightening around the pendant.

"It'll be dangerous," the goddess warned, her voice dropping to a hushed tone as she looked out into the night.

"...I know."

"Do you really have to do this?" she pressed, her voice softening with a mixture of worry and resignation.

"...Yeah," He whispered, his eyes narrowing with determination. "I want to gather as many clues as I can... and maybe even try to help if something happens." He glanced down at the necklace, the memory of the ruined manor and Jin's sinister smile flashing in his mind. The goddess, sensing the turmoil within him, let out a small sigh.

"...But even if something does happen," the goddess whispered, her gaze growing cold as she met the kid's eyes. "You're too weak to stop it."

"...I know," he admitted, biting his lip as a wave of helplessness washed over him. His fists clenched at his sides as the weight of his inadequacies bore down on him. He had been training for a year, yet he was still just a child compared to the seasoned warriors around him.

"But... that's why I've decided to trust my family," he said, forcing a determined smile as he stood up. The goddess watched him leave,

her heart aching with a mixture of pride and sorrow as she realized just how much he had grown.

"If you're sure... then all I can do is be by your side," she said softly, padding after him as he walked to the door. As he reached for the handle, she leaped onto his shoulder, her tiny claws digging into his shirt as she prepared to face whatever lay ahead.

"...Yeah. Let's go."

-----

Dark shadows draped the manor's hallways, the eerie silence of the night settling like a suffocating blanket. In one of the rooms, a singular lantern cast a soft orange glow, its flickering light barely penetrating the thick darkness that seemed to cling to the walls. The room was heavy with tension, the quiet almost deafening.

Kneeling on the cold, unforgiving floor was a young child, his small frame trembling as he bowed his head low. The faint light outlined his features, casting deep shadows across his face, obscuring his expression in darkness. Above him stood a middle-aged man, his broad shoulders tense and rigid as he loomed over the boy. His fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white, and his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, each exhale trembling with barely contained rage.

The man's eyes, normally a calm, unyielding brown, now flickered with a tumult of emotions—anger, disbelief, despair—all swirling together in a storm that threatened to consume him. His jaw tightened as he struggled to keep his composure, the muscles in his neck straining with the effort. For a moment, it seemed as though the weight of his fury would crash down upon the child, shattering the fragile stillness that hung between them.

But he didn't move.

The man's gaze bore into the child, as if trying to unravel the thoughts hidden beneath that downcast head. His heart pounded in his chest, a relentless drumbeat that echoed in his ears, drowning out the soft crackling of the lantern's flame. The silence stretched on, suffocating and unyielding, as the man wrestled with the storm raging within him.

Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and trembling with suppressed emotion. "What?"