CHP NO 15. CALL OF DUTY

"Welcome to the family, little one."

Sia's voice was warm, her arms open, ready to embrace me.

I should have felt relief. I should have been overjoyed.

But my body had nothing left to give.

Each step toward her felt heavier than the last, as if unseen chains were dragging me down. My breath came in slow, uneven waves. The weight of everything—of proving myself, of my uncertain future, of the sheer relief that I wasn't being sent away—pressed down on me like an avalanche.

And yet, I still moved forward.

When I finally reached her, I let myself fall into her embrace.

The moment her arms wrapped around me, the tension in my chest unraveled. My vision blurred, and my racing heartbeat slowed. For the first time in a long time, the gnawing fear of being unwanted—of being alone—faded into the background.

Safe.

I felt safe.

The world around me dimmed. My body gave in, my consciousness slipping away.

And honestly… I didn't mind.

The nightmares wouldn't reach me here.

Sia sighed, adjusting her grip around the unconscious boy in her arms.

"He passed out. Poor child."

She carried Lucius inside, glancing toward Rartar, who remained in his usual spot, lounging near the entrance of the garden with his drink in hand. His expression barely shifted, but Sia knew him well enough to catch the subtle change in his gaze—the silent acknowledgment that Lucius was now, in some way, theirs to look after.

Not that she had given him much of a choice.

Even if Rartar had refused, Sia wouldn't have abandoned Lucius. That much was certain.

Once she ensured the boy was resting properly, she returned to sit with her husband. Their conversation drifted through several topics, but it didn't take long for Rartar to steer it back to Lucius.

"Tell me more about him," he said. "From the beginning. How did you find him in the Outer Rim?"

Sia leaned back, arms crossed. She had expected this.

Rartar was a cautious man—always thinking ahead, always preparing for what might come. It wasn't just idle curiosity driving his questions; he was weighing possibilities, considering what Lucius' existence might mean in the long run.

Sia exhaled, deciding to tell him almost everything.

Almost.

The truth about Lucius' mana nature…

That, she would keep to herself.

For now.

"Lucius was abandoned in the Outer Rim, that much is clear."

Rartar nodded, unsurprised.

"But here's where it gets strange."

Sia's tone lowered, drawing her husband's full attention.

"He doesn't remember his past—not a single thing. It's as if someone not only abandoned him but deliberately erased his memories."

That made Rartar pause.

"And that's not all," Sia continued. "I suspect whoever left him behind also tried to sabotage his mana core. I'm certain of it."

Rartar's expression darkened, but he motioned for her to go on.

"But here's what bothers me the most."

She leaned forward, locking eyes with him.

"Lucius wasn't abandoned the way most unwanted children are. He was in excellent condition when I found him. Yes, he was exhausted, hungry, and thirsty, but he wasn't malnourished. His clothes, though dirty from travel, were well-made. His hair, though messy, was groomed. His skin—clear, unscarred. No marks of abuse. No signs of struggle. His hands were smooth, untouched by hard labor."

Rartar furrowed his brows. "What exactly are you implying?"

"Think about it," she pressed. "He has no memories, yet sometimes he knows things even grown men don't. He learns at an unnatural speed. He adapts. His observation skills, his instincts, his grasp of complex concepts—it's not normal."

Rartar remained silent, absorbing her words.

"And his swordplay?" Sia scoffed. "Would you believe me if I told you he's been wielding a blade for less than a month?"

Rartar's eyes widened slightly.

"No."

"Neither would I, if I hadn't seen it myself."

A moment of heavy silence settled between them.

Then, Sia spoke her final thoughts.

"Lucius wasn't abandoned that night."

Rartar's gaze sharpened.

"Whatever happened to him—it wasn't neglect. It wasn't cruelty. It was something else. Someone deliberately wiped his memories. Someone deliberately sealed his mana. Someone wanted to protect him, to hide him."

She hesitated before adding:

"I don't know who. I don't know why. But what I do know…"

She exhaled.

"That child is special. And I intend to find out how."

Rartar let out a slow breath.

He didn't argue. Didn't refute her reasoning.

Because deep down, he knew she was right.

Instead, he asked, "Then what's your plan?"

Sia's expression steeled.

"For now? I focus on Lucius."

"He's my one and only student, and from this moment forward, my sole priority. After the last incident, I've decided to retire from my role as a guardian. I'm done protecting nobles, diplomats, and strangers who see me as nothing more than a sword-for-hire."

She crossed her arms.

"The only one I will protect now… is him."

"I will train him to the absolute best of my abilities. I will make him strong enough to stand on his own—to walk his own path, no matter what trials await him."

Rartar studied her, searching for any trace of hesitation.

He found none.

Instead, he saw resolve.

Unshakable.

Unyielding.

And honestly?

He was relieved.

For years, he had watched his wife carry the burden of her responsibilities, forcing herself to endure a life she no longer wished for.

But now?

Now, she had found a new purpose.

One that would keep her occupied for the years to come.

Especially since…

"My dear," he said, his voice turning serious.

Sia immediately caught the shift in his tone.

Her hand found his, gripping it gently, offering silent support.

"There's something I need to tell you. Something that will change everything."

Sia's breath hitched. "Go on."

Rartar exhaled slowly.

"The number of corrupted beasts is rising at an alarming rate. A few days ago, the borders of Vagsheer were nearly overrun by a horde."

Sia stiffened.

Vagsheer of the Seven Sisters, and one of the largest cities in Verdun.

If the beasts had reached that far…

"Their numbers are growing. If left unchecked, they'll overwhelm the ordinary mana beast population."

Rartar's grip tightened around hers.

"The Empire has decided to act. They're forming an alliance between the military and the Guild Association of the Eastern Front."

His voice dropped lower.

"They're preparing for a large-scale invasion into the Beast Territories."

Sia's stomach turned.

She knew what that meant.

War.

A long one.

And if Rartar was telling her this now…

"You're going, aren't you?" she asked quietly.

Rartar's silence was her answer.

Her fingers curled around his hand.

The world was changing.

And whether they were ready or not…

They would have to face it.

Sia knew what this meant.

Her husband—Rartar, the Elemental Saint of Varis—was about to be pulled into a war.

He wouldn't just be a participant. He would be a leader.

If this alliance was truly forming, there was no doubt in her mind that he would be placed at the helm of one of its largest divisions. This was the burden of power—the price one paid for reaching the level of a Saint. Strength of that magnitude didn't grant freedom. It chained you to the responsibilities of the world.

Rartar had no choice.

Or at least, that's what he believed.

Sia, however, had a different opinion.

"You could say no."

Rartar glanced at her, but she didn't wait for a response.

"You could refuse this so-called invitation. You could step away. Retire, just as I have."

Her voice wasn't angry—not yet. It was pleading.

"We have more than enough wealth. We don't need to serve anyone anymore. And now, with Lucius…"

Her fists clenched.

"With Lucius, we finally have something real to care for, something that matters more than politics and battlefields."

Rartar exhaled through his nose, setting down his drink.

"Sia—"

"Don't 'Sia' me," she cut in. "Just listen."

She took a step closer, her sharp gaze locking onto his.

"We've given everything to this world already. We've fought. We've bled. We've killed for rulers who don't even know our names. Haven't we done enough?"

She reached out, her fingers grasping his sleeve.

"Please," she whispered.

But Rartar's expression remained unchanged.

"My duty is not just to myself—"

"Oh, spare me!"

Sia's hand dropped, her patience wearing thin.

"Your duty? To who, Rartar? To strangers who don't give a damn about you? To a city that will replace you the moment you fall?"

She took a breath, steadying herself before continuing.

"You've done enough," she said, softer this time. "Let someone else take up the fight."

But Rartar only shook his head.

"I can't."

Sia's heart clenched.

She knew him too well. His mind was made up.

Rartar wasn't just strong—he was one of the strongest. There weren't many who could do what he did, who could bear the responsibility he carried. He had seen war, led armies, survived battles that would have reduced lesser men to dust.

And that was exactly why he couldn't say no.

Because he knew what would happen if he did.

"Sia," he said gently. "If I refuse, another man—someone weaker, someone unprepared—will take my place. And thousands will die because of it."

She turned away, pressing her palm against her forehead.

"Then let them die," she muttered.

It was a lie. A cruel one. But she wanted to believe it.

Because the alternative was watching her husband march off to war again—watching him throw himself into another battlefield, watching him leave her behind.

She was so damn tired of being left behind.

"You know I can't do that," Rartar said.

Sia laughed bitterly.

"Of course you can't. You never could."

Rartar sighed, leaning back into his chair, rubbing his temples.

"This is my duty, Sia. First, I ensure the safety of those around me. Then, I serve my nation. I swore an oath—"

"To who?" she snapped.

Rartar finally looked up.

"To everyone."

That was when Sia lost her patience.

"Everyone? That's the problem with you, Rartar. You think everyone matters. You put this city, this empire, above your own damn family. I just told you—we don't need them anymore. And you're still choosing them over us."

Her voice cracked.

"Over me."

A thick silence fell between them.

Sia's hands trembled. She clenched them into fists, nails digging into her palm.

"You never cared about me," she finally whispered.

Rartar's jaw tightened.

"You know that's not true."

She looked at him then, truly looked at him.

And what she saw made her chest ache.

Because he did care.

Just… not in the way she wanted.

Rartar was a man of duty. Of responsibility. And no matter how much he loved her, no matter how much he wanted to stay—he wouldn't.

Because he couldn't.

"All you care about is your damn status," she said.

The words weren't entirely fair.

But they weren't entirely false, either.

Rartar didn't argue. He just sat there, quiet, letting her rage wash over him.

That made it worse.

Sia shook her head, stepping back. Her throat felt tight, her chest burning with emotions she wasn't ready to process.

"I can't do this right now," she muttered.

And then she turned on her heel and stormed off.

Rartar let her go.

Because he knew she would burn off the steam.

And he knew, eventually…

She would understand.

***

Lucius stood in the training yard, eyes shut, his breathing steady. Mana surged beneath his skin like an unseen current, circulating through his body as he focused on his meditation. The key to mana sensing was calmness—a quiet mind, a steady heart. But that was easier said than done.

Especially with him watching.

Lucius felt Rartar's presence before he heard his voice. It was heavy yet familiar, like the distant rumble of a storm.

"Good morning, Lord Rartar," Lucius greeted without opening his eyes.

The older man chuckled.

"You can call me Uncle Lucius. That's what the children from the orphanage call me."

Lucius cracked an eye open, nodding as he resumed his meditation. Even so, he felt Rartar's gaze lingering on him. Watching. Judging. Weighing.

The pressure made it difficult to focus. After a while, he gave up, exhaling sharply before turning to properly greet his uncle.

Rartar was seated at a table nearby, a plate of snacks before him.

"Come," he gestured. "Eat."

Lucius hesitated for only a moment before accepting the invitation. He wasn't one to reject free food, especially not when the man offering it was built like a mountain and had the rank of a Saint. He sat, eating in silence, while Rartar watched him with an expression Lucius couldn't quite place.

When he finished, Lucius stood, intending to return to his training—only to freeze when Rartar stopped him.

"Sit," the older man said.

Lucius blinked in surprise but obeyed, lowering himself into the exact same position he had just risen from, mirroring it perfectly.

Rartar chuckled.

"You're precise to a fault, boy."

Lucius just tilted his head, confused by the amusement in his voice.

A pause. Then,

"Lucius, do you remember your promise?"

Lucius' mind raced.

Promise? Which one? I've promised him a lot of things…

After a few seconds of blank searching, he cautiously nodded.

Rartar raised an eyebrow.

"... You have no idea which promise I'm talking about, do you?"

Lucius awkwardly adjusted his hair, trying not to let his face betray his embarrassment.

Rartar let out a long sigh before ruffling Lucius' hair. His massive hand practically swallowed the boy's head, but his touch was unexpectedly gentle.

"Haaah. Lucius, my child, relax a bit. I'm not going to hurt you, you know?"

Lucius blinked at the words.

His first instinct was to stay on guard.

But something about Rartar's presence made that difficult.

There was a strange comfort in being around him. The man was intimidating—taller than most, built like a fortress, and marked with battle scars. But instead of making him look menacing, those scars made him seem enduring. Strong. Reliable.

Not unlike Sia.

Lucius hesitated, then—for reasons even he couldn't explain—shifted closer. He rested his head against Rartar's bicep, feeling the solid muscle beneath.

Rartar stiffened slightly in surprise… but then, ever so subtly, he relaxed.

"Heh. You're an odd one, little one," he murmured, but he made no move to pull away.

For a few moments, neither spoke.

Then, finally, Rartar broke the silence.

"Lucius, I have to leave in a few hours. I won't be back for a while."

Lucius slowly lifted his head, meeting his gaze.

"You just got back… and now you're leaving again? Why?"

His voice was direct. No hesitation.

Rartar knew exactly who he was referring to.

"My master misses you. A lot, you know."

Rartar exhaled through his nose.

"I know."

"Then why?"

Lucius' sharp stare bore into him.

For a moment, Rartar debated how much to reveal.

"Lucius, I—"

"Is this about the rise of corrupted beasts?"

Rartar's entire body went still.

Lucius instantly regretted speaking.

"S-Sorry! I shouldn't have interrupted you—"

But Rartar wasn't mad. He was simply… staring.

"You know about the corrupted beasts?"

His voice was carefully neutral.

Lucius shifted.

"I mean, yeah? People talk, you know? I overheard some old men talking about how those monsters slaughtered someone's nephew—brutally."

His fingers curled into his lap.

"I've been meaning to ask, actually. Sia refuses to answer. What are they? Why are they so strong? Why are they such a massive threat?"

Rartar sighed, leaning against the window frame.

"Hmm. That's… a good question."

Lucius leaned forward.

"And? What's the answer?"

Rartar smirked.

"I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you that, little one."

Lucius groaned.

"Come on! Don't be like Master! I won't tell her you told me, I swear!"

What followed was a full hour of relentless begging.

Rartar tried to hold out. He truly did.

But by the end of it, he found himself giving in.

"Alright, alright!" He raised his hands in surrender. "But you have to promise not to tell Sia it was me."

Lucius frantically nodded.

"Deal!"

With that, Rartar leaned back, arms crossed.

"Alright then. First, tell me—what do you know about mana beasts in general?"

Lucius took a moment to think.

"Uhh… they're monsters we hunt for various reasons?" He paused. "There are over a thousand species inside the beast rims. Some live in packs, hordes, or groups, while others prefer to be alone. Some have elemental affinities, some don't. Some are cute, while some look like something straight out of a nightmare."

Rartar snorted.

"Not bad. But you're still ignorant."

Lucius bristled.

"Hey! I'm eight! What do you expect?"

Rartar laughed.

"Fair enough."

He grew serious then.

"Mana beasts aren't just monsters, Lucius. They're a crucial part of the world's ecosystem. Without them, maintaining a balanced mana flow would be… nearly impossible."

Lucius stared at him blankly.

"... That was a horrible explanation."

Rartar barked a laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

Lucius sighed.

"Master was pissed, you know? When she left."

Rartar's smile faded.

Lucius studied his face.

"You know she won't forgive you for leaving her behind, right?"

"... I know."

"Then why are you still going?"

Rartar didn't answer.

Not immediately.

"Because if I don't… someone weaker, someone unprepared, will take my place. And people will die because of it."

Lucius sat in silence.

Then, after a moment, he spoke.

"Fine. Then promise me something."

Rartar arched a brow.

"Promise?"

Lucius nodded.

"Just return safely. In one piece. As soon as possible."

His voice softened.

"You have two people waiting for you now. Two people who care."

Rartar inhaled deeply… then smiled.

"I swear upon my rank and name, little one."

Lucius grinned.

Then—

"Once this mission is over… I'm retiring too."

Lucius froze.

"Wait, really?!"

Rartar nodded, chuckling at his expression.

"But don't tell Sia. I want to tell her myself."

Lucius smirked.

"Tell her WHAT?"

Rartar laughed.

And for the first time that morning, Lucius truly smiled.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A series of rapid, thunderous explosions rattled the air. The sound tore through the peaceful evening, sending flocks of birds screeching into the sky.

Lucius snapped his head toward the source, his brows furrowing as he caught sight of multiple bursts of fire illuminating the distant skyline.

"Firecrackers? Now?" he murmured, confused. He hadn't heard of any planned festivals or events.

Something felt off.

Rartar, however, tensed the moment the sounds rang out. His casual demeanor vanished in an instant.

"Those aren't fireworks, little one." His voice was firm, unwavering. "That's an assembly call."

Lucius' stomach dropped.

"Wait—right now?!"

His mind raced.

Sia will be back any second—can't he wait?! What's the harm in just a few minutes?

"You don't have to go yet, right? I mean, the city isn't going to fall apart if you—"

But Rartar wasn't listening.

He was already moving, already turning away.

Lucius saw it in his face—the unyielding resolve, the kind that would not bend to reason, not even to the pleas of family.

This wasn't just an assignment.

This was a call to war.

Lucius' chest tightened as he watched Rartar stride toward the garden.

"At least let me—"

"No time, Lucius."

Rartar reached out.

For a moment, Lucius thought he was going to ruffle his hair again.

Instead, the older man gripped his shoulder.

A solid, firm squeeze.

"Take care of my wife for me."

Lucius' breath hitched, but he nodded.

"I will."

That seemed to be enough.

Rartar turned, stepping into the open air.

Then—

BOOM!

A shockwave erupted beneath his feet as he launched into the sky.

Lucius staggered back, nearly falling as the sheer force of the takeoff sent dust and leaves spiraling around him. His cloak whipped violently in the wind, his eyes squinting against the pressure.

By the time he recovered, Rartar was already a distant streak in the sky, accelerating toward the call of duty.

Lucius cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling,

"Please be safe! And don't forget your promise!!"

But Rartar was already gone.

A part of Lucius wanted to believe he had heard him anyway.

Lucius exhaled, his gaze following Rartar's trajectory.

The way he soared—the effortless motion, the sheer speed—made Lucius' heart ache.

I wish I could fly too.

He clenched his fists.

If he had an elemental affinity, if he had something more, maybe he could do that too. Maybe he wouldn't be bound to the ground, watching others leave.

A gust of wind swept past, ruffling his hair.

Lucius stood in place, staring at the empty sky.

"He's gone… I figured."

The soft voice behind him sent a chill up his spine.

Lucius turned sharply.

Sia stood a few feet away, her crimson eyes swollen and puffy.

She had been crying.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, fingers pressing into her sleeves. Her expression was neutral, but Lucius knew her well enough to see the signs—the faint tremble in her jaw, the way her breathing was just slightly uneven.

"Y-Yeah," he admitted. "There was an emergency call… He had to leave. I tried to stop him, knowing you'd be back, but…"

He looked away, feeling like he had failed.

"I'm sorry."

Sia was silent for a long moment.

Then, with a quiet exhale, she shrugged.

"Hmm. I don't care."

Lucius knew that was a lie.

"I'm going to take a nap," she continued, her voice detached. "Did you finish your training?"

Lucius hesitated. He still had a few more sessions left, but something about the way she spoke made him answer without thinking.

"Yeah, I did."

"Good."

Sia turned toward the kitchen.

"You must be hungry. I'll cook something. Go set up the dining table."

Lucius nodded immediately.

"Got it!"

He moved quickly. He wasn't going to test her patience. Not now.

Sia, however, didn't follow him inside right away.

Instead, she drifted toward the garden, the place where Rartar had taken off.

She stood still, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the fabric of her sleeves.

She tilted her head back.

Looking toward the sky.

A single deep breath.

A single thought, barely a whisper.

"Just be safe out there… You have a family waiting for you."

The wind carried her words away.

After a few lingering seconds, she finally turned back.

The moment she slid the window shut behind her, she was no longer Rartar's grieving wife.

She was Lucius' mentor.

And she had work to do.