Chapter 22

"Grandpa, you're getting weirder. Why are you so confused? Isn't it normal for someone to have four kids? There's even a knight at the palace who has ten," said Aslan.

"Hais... It's a bit more complicated than that. Think about it—throughout the past several thousand years, there's never been any record of the emperor having siblings. And now suddenly, he has several children?" Grandpa Erwin replied. Aslan didn't say a word.

"Back when I was a noble, I used to take on missions directly from the previous emperor. I spent a lot of time in the palace and had a bit of freedom to move around. I once entered the library, found some ancient books, and came across some interesting information. Long ago, the emperor was cursed—he could only have three children. I even verified it. The book I read exists in the archives of all seven kingdoms that have stood for thousands of years. They don't always share this knowledge unless it benefits them politically," Grandpa Erwin continued.

"Wait, then why doesn't the emperor have any siblings?" Aslan asked.

"This... this is a piece of information I uncovered with great difficulty. Even some kings don't know about it. The truth is, the emperor always has three children. But only one is ever made known to the public—the most gifted child is the one who gets declared as the heir. The others, those with less potential, are taken to the Forbidden Island and are never seen again," Grandpa Erwin explained.

"If that's true, why do people say there's a tradition about who becomes heir?" Aslan asked.

"A tradition?" Grandpa Erwin looked puzzled.

"Yeah, people say that the crown prince is always the queen's son. The logic is that since she's the first wife, she's the one who'll get pregnant first. But now, the queen's son is actually the youngest and not very capable. That's why everyone's fighting over who deserves the throne," Aslan explained.

"That tradition never existed. I'm sure that's just politics," Erwin scoffed.

"Whatever. It doesn't concern me. I just want to go back to my hometown," said Aslan.

"Wait, you weren't born in the palace? Argh! This is getting more confusing!" Grandpa Erwin shouted, ruffling his hair in frustration.

Seeing him act like that, Aslan finally told him everything—from being taken to the palace, escaping, meeting Amanda and Ishak, and the battle that led him to this place.

Erwin listened with concern but still couldn't wrap his head around the situation with the emperor's heir. Then, something occurred to him.

"Do people even know that you're the emperor's son?"

Aslan paused to think. Honestly, he'd never cared much about that before. But remembering how Grace assumed the emperor only had three children and didn't recognize him when they met—it meant no one outside knew he was the emperor's son.

"No... no one knows. Why?"

"It's just a theory, but if I'm right... then running away may have saved your life. I'm almost certain that if you'd stayed, you would've been taken to that forbidden island and never returned. I don't know what happens to the ones taken there, but I've heard there are powerful monsters. You might've been fed to one... or used as a sacrifice for some demon... or maybe—"

"Okay, stop! Let's just keep training," Aslan cut him off, clearly disturbed by the image Erwin was painting.

"Oh right, I almost forgot, hahaha."

Five years passed. Aslan had now been in the forest for a total of eight years. To help clear Aslan's mind, Grandpa Erwin gave him two options: forget the past, or turn it into motivation. Aslan chose the latter—he would carry it as both a burden and a drive for revenge on behalf of Amanda and Ishak.

Clink! Klang!

The sound of clashing swords rang out. Aslan was currently sparring with Grandpa Erwin. To make the fight fairer, Erwin held back from using any tors energy to enhance himself or his attacks.

"You need to get serious, Aslan! Don't hold back—swing that sword with everything you've got!"

Aslan stayed silent, his eyes locked on Grandpa Erwin, who stood calmly in front of him. He took a deep breath and tried to steady his mind. Over the past five years, he'd learned so much—from close combat techniques to surviving in hostile environments. But nothing ever came easy.

He gripped his sword tighter and stepped forward, watching for even the slightest movement. Then, in one swift motion, he lunged—slashing toward Erwin's right shoulder.

Clang!

Erwin parried with ease, reacting like lightning. Aslan twisted his stance and redirected the attack into a thrust toward the stomach—but Erwin sidestepped it effortlessly.

"Is that all you've got?" Grandpa Erwin teased.

Gritting his teeth, Aslan twisted again and aimed for Erwin's legs, hoping to catch him off guard. But Erwin, as if reading his mind, leapt lightly backward. The sword cut through empty air.

Aslan didn't stop there. He summoned five floating swords using tors energy and launched them all toward Grandpa Erwin. Then, he leapt high into the air.

While Erwin was busy deflecting the flying blades, Aslan gathered all his tors energy and formed a giant sword. Spinning in midair, he swung it down with everything he had.

Caught off guard by the surprise attack, Grandpa Erwin instinctively used his tors energy to block. BOOM! A burst of energy exploded out, blasting Aslan back.

"You cheated! You said you wouldn't use your energy!" Aslan shouted, getting to his feet and brushing off dust.

"That just means you're strong enough to make me cheat. You should be proud," Erwin replied, trying to play it off.

"Wait, where's my pouch?" Aslan looked down—his pouch had come loose. Scanning the area, he spotted it lying torn nearby.

"Look what you did, old man!" Aslan grumbled, gathering up the monster cores that had scattered all over the ground.

Grandpa Erwin walked over to help him pick them up.

To be continued...