June 25th, 1810 — Moscow, Grand Empire of Russia
The scene opened within the sprawling hallways of the Ivanovich estate—their royal castle, vast and echoing with quiet nobility.
Xavier walked its length with unhurried steps. His silky curls, brown-black in shade, framed several strands at the front that shimmered like refined gold beneath the light of the chandeliers. Against his brown skin, rich with an olive undertone—like brown alexandrite warmed beneath the sun—he naturally stood apart from the pale marble and the colder faces around him.
Yet what truly set him apart were his eyes.
Dark red. Deep as fermented wine.
The same shade his late father once carried.
They remained hidden behind the Visors of Time resting neatly upon his face.
Perched comfortably along Xavier's shoulders lay the Dragon King, Alcmena, in his small cat form. His tail flicked lazily, posture relaxed, as though the weight of centuries meant nothing at all. The two walked side by side—if one could call it that—engaged in conversation as though nothing in the world pressed upon them.
"Say," Xavier began, twirling the golden strand of his hair between his fingers. "Why did part of my hair suddenly turn gold… as if I were still in my RealmHeart state, Master?"
Alcmena did not immediately answer. His golden eyes narrowed slightly, thoughtful.
"It occurred," he said calmly, "because you lost complete control over yourself in London. Your emotions collapsed. Your sense of self fractured."
His tail stilled.
"The Dragon Seed within you reacted violently to that state—your rage… and your murderous thirst for revenge."
Xavier's fingers paused.
"Consequently," Alcmena continued, "your body was forced into a stage of RealmHeart you have yet to comprehend."
He shifted his weight slightly on Xavier's shoulder.
"Do not misunderstand. The gold in your hair is not evolution. Even as my vessel, that is not how this works."
His tone sharpened—only slightly.
"It is a mark."
Silence lingered between them.
"A mark," Alcmena finished, "that your body was damaged far beyond its limits. It is not decoration, Xavier."
A small pause.
"It is a wound."
The light in Xavier's expression dimmed almost imperceptibly.
"Oh," he murmured.
Then, quieter—almost detached—
"So… am I going to die?"
"No," Alcmena replied bluntly.
"You were fortunate. Your family's sacred ethereal instrument intervened. That is the only reason you are alive."
His gaze turned forward again.
"You should have died. Your physical vessel was tearing itself apart under a degree of early core corruption that would have killed most beings instantly."
Xavier swallowed, though he kept walking.
"Since you do not possess a core, the corruption redirected its strain toward your body. The Holy Grail healed the damage—but it did not erase the corruption itself. It only restored what had already been broken."
A beat passed.
"The burden of what remained had to be borne by someone else."
Xavier's brows knit together.
"Who did?"
Alcmena's tail flicked once.
"You do not need to concern yourself with that," he answered coolly. "Be grateful that you breathe."
Then, after a moment, he added with faint amusement,
"Though if you had still been on the verge of death, Excalibur may have attempted to activate Hero's Residual to alter your fate before your death."
He let out a short huff of a laugh.
"It likely would have killed you faster. You can barely withstand a fraction of its divine essence. Your body may have disintegrated on the spot."
Xavier frowned.
"I don't see what's amusing about that, Master."
Alcmena rolled his eyes.
"Loosen up, will you?"
Xavier blinked.
"That's usually my line to you…"
The scene shifted.
Xavier now sat inside his room, recently restored after the chaos of his reemergence. Fresh stone and polished wood still carried the scent of repair. Alcmena slept atop the bed in his cat form, curled into himself as though utterly unbothered by the world.
Xavier, however, sat on the floor beside the bed, back resting against its frame. His gaze remained unfocused, fixed somewhere unseen.
Knock. Knock.
The sound jolted him upright.
"Xavier," a familiar voice called gently. "Are you there?"
"Yes," he replied.
"May I come in?"
A brief hesitation.
"Ya!"
The doors opened.
Lady Victoria stepped inside.
Xavier's surprise flickered across his face before it was replaced with his usual bright smile.
"Miss Victoria? What brings you here today?"
She held something in her hands.
"I have a gift I've been meaning to give you," she said softly.
"A gift?"
"Yes."
"From who?"
Victoria hesitated, scratching her cheek lightly.
"It's better if you see it first," she said.
"Oh… alright."
She stepped closer and handed it to him.
An envelope.
Heavier than it should have been.
Xavier looked down at it, his fingers curling slightly around its weight.
Whatever rested inside… was not something ordinary.
"What's this?" Xavier asked, curiosity flickering through his voice. "What might be in here?"
Victoria couldn't help but giggle softly, warmth blooming in her chest at the innocent tilt of his head.
"In that envelope, Xavier," she said gently, "is everything we were able to find about your birth family… and your relatives."
The words struck him harder than any blade.
The color drained from his face.
For a moment, he simply stared at her—as if he had misheard.
"W-what?"
Victoria laughed lightly at his stunned expression, though her eyes were tender.
"You heard me. Those documents contain information about your relatives."
She leaned forward slightly, tapping the envelope with a playful finger.
"Your relatives."
Xavier's grip tightened unconsciously.
"But…" His voice faltered, tension creeping into his shoulders. "How did you even obtain something like this?"
"I didn't," Victoria replied. "Adam did."
"Huh?!" Xavier's head snapped up. "Adam?!"
"Yes," she confirmed with a nod. "He began compiling it the very day you were told the truth about your origins… and your connection to the Superior Project—that has now become public knowledge."
Silence filled the room as Xavier listened.
Victoria continued, her tone softer now.
"Adam felt guilty for manipulating you into leaving your family. He told me he knew you must have realized his proposal was suspicious from the beginning. Even if you are naïve in your ideals… that innocence is simply who you are."
She smiled faintly.
"But you are not foolish. He knew that. He said it would take the highest level of deception to truly fool you."
Xavier remained still, eyes lowered to the envelope in his hands.
"He never wanted you to suffer," Victoria said quietly. "But desperation makes people do things that contradict their own morals. When someone believes they've already lost everything… they begin justifying anything."
She exhaled slowly.
"After you saw the documents about your parents, Adam thought the least he could do was try to recover whatever fragments of your past he could find. Relatives. Records. Anything."
"He didn't have much time," she added. "He was juggling other matters while you were there. But he did what he could."
The room grew heavier with each word.
Xavier's silence deepened. Something inside him ached—an old wound stirring beneath calm composure.
Victoria lowered herself so that she was eye level with him.
"Xavier," she said softly, holding his gaze, "Adam truly is sorry. He never expected this to absolve him of his mistakes. He only hoped… that perhaps it might give you something back. Something that was taken from you."
For a long moment, Xavier said nothing.
Then—slowly—a warm smile formed on his lips.
"I don't hold what Adam did against him," he said gently. "He told me his intentions after my… embarrassing outburst when I learned about Teslaine's father."
A faint chuckle escaped him, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"I forgave him then. Not out of pity. Out of understanding."
His fingers brushed lightly over the surface of the envelope.
"I could see how heavy it was for him—to lose everything he cared about. And how desperately he tried to reclaim it. When someone feels they have nothing left… they cling to the only things they set their eyes on."
He inhaled quietly.
"I'm grateful for what he did. Even if the consequences were… unbearably unfortunate."
His smile softened.
"Because of it, I gained a friend who became my sister. I learned more about myself—my ethereal core… and my birth parents."
He looked down at the envelope again.
"To me… this isn't just paper. It's a piece of the past that was stolen from me—and somehow returned."
Victoria's expression eased with visible relief. She had feared resentment. Bitterness. Silence.
Instead, she found grace.
But before she could respond, Xavier's smile faded just slightly.
"However…" he added quietly, solemnity settling into his features, "I don't intend to open it. Not yet."
Victoria blinked.
"W-what?"
To which Xavier replied softly,
"What I mean, Miss Victoria… is that I still don't feel worthy of the names I carry."
He lowered his gaze slightly.
"Ashford. Ivanovich."
The words did not sound heavy—yet they carried weight all the same.
"I am grateful for them. More than I can express. But… I've always felt as though I haven't earned the right to stand beneath those names."
His fingers tightened subtly around the envelope.
"I've already spoken about this with Big Sister… with Big Brother… and especially with Grandpa."
A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
"Even though I am slowly growing into the family that took me in without hesitation… I believe I must prove myself first. Not to them."
He paused.
"To myself."
Victoria listened without interruption.
"The same applies to meeting my distant relatives," Xavier continued. "Until I can stand firmly on my own two feet—until I can look at myself without doubt—I don't think I should open this."
He lifted the envelope slightly.
"For now… I will keep the name I have today. And when the time comes—when I truly believe I deserve to stand beside those who care for me… I'll open it."
A small chuckle escaped him as he wiped the faint moisture forming at the corners of his eyes.
"Besides… if I met my long-lost relatives the way I am now, I'd probably embarrass myself terribly."
He grinned sheepishly.
"It's better I prepare mentally first. Maybe when I'm older. Maybe after I return to the human realm."
Victoria giggled softly, warmth shining in her expression.
"Then take all the time you need, Xavier. But if you ask me… the Ivanovich and Ashford names were given to you without burden for a reason. You do not need to earn what was already given freely."
For several quiet minutes, they remained like that—Aunt and nephew, guardian and child—sharing a closeness rarely spoken aloud.
On the bed, Alcmena stirred.
One golden eye cracked open.
He had not been asleep at all.
"Names and identity…" he muttered inwardly, amused.
"Humans guard their family names with as much ferocity as dragons guard theirs."
A faint scoff left him.
"I wonder which name he will choose in the end. One of them belongs to the devil, who stole both his lives from him. And yet… he still considers bearing it."
His tail flicked lazily.
"Perhaps he wishes to cleanse it. To rebuild what was stained by that cunning serpent, Percival."
A low hum vibrated in his chest.
"Even Teslaine kept her father's name. Curious creatures, humans are."
But then his thoughts drifted—far older than this room, far heavier than this conversation.
If only a certain dragon had not abandoned his own name.
If only pride had not severed blood from blood.
The Black Dragon.
The brother who cast aside the name they were born with and chose one that twisted their lineage beyond recognition.
Alcmena exhaled slowly.
Perhaps some fates might have unfolded differently.
Perhaps they would still stand together.
Before the thought could settle further—
Knock. Knock.
This time, the knock was urgent.
Xavier straightened.
"Yes? Who is it?"
"Your Majesty!" a voice called breathlessly from the other side. "It is urgent!"
Victoria's brows knit together.
"Come in," Xavier said, concern slipping into his tone.
The door swung open abruptly.
One of the palace maids stumbled inside, breathing heavily as though she had sprinted the entire length of the estate.
"Your Majesty," she gasped, placing a hand over her chest, "you have a guest."
"A guest?" Xavier repeated.
"Yes—an unexpected one."
She swallowed.
"He instructed me to tell you… that the companion who is meant to stand beside you as a fellow hero has come to meet his fated partner."
The air in the room shifted.
"He arrived with multiple carriages," she continued, "escorted by armed knights. Their banners bear the sigil of the Empire of Great Britain."
Victoria's eyes widened.
"He introduced himself as—"
A brief pause.
Even the air seemed to still.
"Grand Duke of the Pendragon Royal Family of Britannia… Caelen Durandal."
Silence.
Then—
"Durandal…?" Victoria whispered.
Xavier's heart skipped violently against his ribs.
Even Alcmena's second eye opened.
"Caelen… Durandal?" Xavier repeated under his breath.
Victoria's voice rang through the chamber a heartbeat later—louder than intended.
"CAELEN DURANDAL?!"