The Meeting

The chopper cut through the air at astonishing speed, carrying them over vast distances in a short period of time. Abunar couldn't really tell where they were since the chopper had no windows.

He wasn't really concerned about any of that. Right now, he was busy diving into the vast pool of knowledge that was being deposited into his mind. It was a strange, almost surreal feeling—being able to see in detail things he'd never actually seen before, to understand concepts he'd never learned, and to deduce information at an astonishing rate. This flood of basic knowledge helped him quickly grasp the ropes of his new life.

Abunar felt that the knowledge was worth a lifetime. Well, actually, it wasn't that profound—they only dropped in the basics: beginner martial arts, simple techniques, and a few rudimentary abilities. Nothing overly complex, as their young brains hadn't matured yet. For an average adult, this was the equivalent of what one might learn by the age of ten. Nonetheless, it was an astonishing discovery.

Their soil was at war. The people were engaged in battle with supernatural monsters known as Areaks. These beasts had been laying siege since prehistoric times. In that era, people couldn't fight at all—they were completely overrun by creatures that slaughtered them and stole their soil. The remaining survivors quickly united, spreading powerful abilities and techniques throughout the populace to give them a fighting chance.

The Areaks reproduced at a high rate; no matter how many were slaughtered, they kept coming back. The only upside was that they didn't live long—rarely more than five years. But within those five years, they could become terribly strong—comparable to someone who had trained for fifty years and was still in his prime.

Humanity was on the losing side, so they embarked on numerous discoveries: new weapons, techniques, defenses, and inventions. One such invention was the peravo—a device that enabled the young ones not to be helplessly slaughtered as had happened long ago. The Areaks had somehow tracked down the secret places where infants were kept, slaughtering everyone there and leaving that age group nearly extinct. Then a genius came up with the idea of the peravo, which allowed children to develop a well-formed mind and mental state so they could fight on the frontlines. This innovation was a huge success, as most of the Areaks they fought were no older than two to five years. It significantly increased both the numbers and the strength of the battle force.

"We are here," Harry said to Abunar, snapping him out of his thoughts.

The door of the chopper slowly opened, revealing the outside. They hadn't yet left the forest—they were now in front of a simply structured building. The chopper itself was a prototype model, sleek and designed to conceal itself. Its matte-black finish absorbed the light, and its rotor blades cut the air almost silently, giving it the appearance of gliding effortlessly.

"Your parents await you in there. I'll be waiting here while you spend some bonding time with them," Harry instructed.

Abunar nodded and made his way out of the chopper. Having grown a bit accustomed to moving around now, he jumped off and strode toward the building, arriving in front of the door in short order.

He held his breath as he slowly pushed the door open. He wondered what kind of people they would be—he really hoped they were loving, caring parents.

"Our son is finally here."

Elyra stood quietly, her arms wrapped around her husband's waist as she leaned into him with graceful ease. Her pearlescent skin caught the soft light, giving her an otherworldly glow—as if touched by the stars themselves. The shimmering fabric of her gown flowed like liquid moonlight, elegant yet simple. Her silken hair fell in gentle waves, a pale hue reminiscent of dawn breaking over the horizon. Her usually distant, enigmatic gaze was now filled with warmth as she looked upon their child, a tender glow lighting her ethereal features.

Beside her, her husband stood steady and commanding—a man who wore authority as naturally as his finely tailored attire. His broad shoulders and confident stance radiated strength, softened only by the protective way he held her. His neatly combed dark hair gleamed faintly under the light, and his sharp, angular features carried the weight of wisdom earned over years of responsibility. Despite the stern edge in his expression, his deep eyes softened when they rested on their child, and the quiet curve of his lips revealed pride and joy.

They both stretched out their hands, inviting their child into their embrace.

Tears welled up in Abunar's eyes; he hadn't expected to feel so emotional upon seeing his parents. He sluggishly ran toward them, bawling his eyes out.

"There, there..." Elyra patted his head as they both knelt and embraced him. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes. This was the kind of love she fought for—the sole reason she hadn't succumbed to darkness or death yet. Her life was truly worth living, and she vowed to protect it with all her might.

She turned to her husband and flashed a tender smile, her heart swelling with a myriad of emotions. Her husband, with whom she had fought countless battles and who knew her as well as an open book, hugged them both tighter.

"I love both of you," he said softly.

"So, how did meeting your parents go?" Harry asked as the chopper began moving once again.

Abunar's meeting with his parents had been brief, yet so mystical and otherworldly that it felt as if he had lived through a dream.

"It was fantastic," he replied, his smile brightening.

"Now that's the spirit. You'll be meeting them again in six months. Until then, do everything you can to make them proud," Harry encouraged.

"Yes, I will," Abunar promised