Alora stepped into the room, her gaze sweeping over her son.
Conus stood tall, dressed only in his underclothes. His frame was fuller, more defined than it had been the night before. His posture was no longer hunched by pain, and beneath his right eye, was a black mark.
Her voice quivered. "Is that… you, Conus?"
He spread his arms, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Of course, Mother. Though I am… different now."
"What do you mean, different?" she asked, cautious, her body still tense.
Conus did not answer. Instead, he turned toward the curtains. A long shadow stretched across the floor. He stepped into it, and his body sank.
Alora gasped. She spun around just as he rose silently from the shadow cast by the open door behind her.
"Your son," Conus said softly, a quiet smile ghosting across his face, "has become a Pugnator."
Alora's hands flew to her mouth. Tears spilled instantly, her composure breaking into sobs.
"Praise to the goddess… praise!" She rushed forward and threw herself into his arms, clutching him tightly. "Look at you…strong as stone," she cried, her voice breaking as she buried her face against his chest.
Conus exhaled and held her close. For years, she had endured his nightly screams. He knew she sometimes sat outside his door, weeping silently while he writhed in pain. For her, this moment was as much salvation as it was for him.
"It's over now, Mother," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "My pain is gone."
"But how?" She asked, raising her head so her eyes may meet his.
Conus hesitated. For some reasons, he had the feeling that he should keep his benefactor a secret. He had not prepared a lie for this moment so he had to be careful.
"I saw the dream," he lied, a fake smile spreading across his face.
"But you are well above sixteen. That should be impossible." Alora replied, somewhat doubtful.
Conus nodded. He had expected her to say that. She was right. After the first awakening, everybody else only awakened on the day they turned sixteen. It was unheard of to awaken before or after. This was what made the first awakeners special. They were the only ones that had fallen outside of that rule.
"Would it be a miracle if we could explain by logic?" He said to his mother.
She smiled and nodded, the little doubt vanishing. Conus felt bad he had to manipulate his mother's religious beliefs against her. However, this was necessary. Until he figured everything out, the origin of his powers stayed a secret.
Then, his head snapped to the side suddenly, his expression shifting. "Someone is at the door."
Alora lifted her tear-streaked face and frowned. "I do not hea—"
Just at that moment, the doorbell rang, interrupting her words. She blinked, then gave a shaky laugh. "Oh. Impressive." She brushed her eyes dry and hurried downstairs.
Conus smiled at her, then followed at a slower pace. He had sensed the powerful aura of a person just outside the door. It was a unique feeling which he had never felt before. He soon reached the base of the stairs, watching as his mother opened the door.
Standing there was Ishira, his father. Broad-shouldered and tall, dressed in a shirt and jean pants, a scar carved across his forehead beneath short brown hair. His brown eyes sat right upon his sharp perfectly shaped nose. His face was covered with a well-shaped beard.
Yet to Conus's sight, something else stood out. A faint glowing digits above his head.
Level 75 (D).
Another gift of the system. Conus immediately understood what it meant. His knowledge of video games was not lacking at all, so he could tell this showed the strength of his father. However, he was not so sure of the letter in a bracket, but he suspected it meant his father's rank. However, he would need more time to confirm it.
Pugnators were divided into ranks. From the lowest, F, up to the highest, S. Across the world, this was the standard and was used to measure the power of every Pugnator and even Otherworlders.
"Aha! If it isn't my lovely wife," Ishira boomed, sweeping Alora into his arms as if she weighed nothing. He spun her lightly, grinning. Conus had seen his father toss cars aside with similar ease.
But when Ishira's gaze shifted and found him watching, the warmth drained from his face.
He set Alora down and his hand went immediately to the blade at his hip. The long sword, even sheathed, radiated menace.
"Who are you?" Ishira's voice turned cold, dangerous. "What have you done with my son?"
Conus did not flinch. He had expected this. A Pugnator's senses were sharp, and Ishira had noticed the drastic change in him. He would easily believe an imposter had taken his place than believe his son had miraculously gotten better.
"Ishira, stop," Alora pleaded. "It's Conus."
"Look at him," Ishira snapped. "He is different."
"Father," Conus said firmly, stepping forward, "it is me. I swear to you."
"Impossible," Ishira growled, his hand tightening on the hilt.
"I can prove it." Conus's lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.
He began listing memories only him could know.
"You have a scar on your butt. You got it during a raid when you were still F-rank. You were eighteen the first time you got drunk and passed out in a gutter. You let Mother believe you were with someone else rather than admit the truth that you were a drunk. She nearly left you, and you spent weeks apologizing. That was the night you swore off drinking."
Ishira froze, his grip loosening. He coughed awkwardly, his stance easing. Behind him, Alora's gaze burned into his back. He would pay for that revelation later. Conus almost smiled.
"By the goddess…" Ishira muttered at last, his eyes flicking to the mark beneath his son's eye. "But how?"
"Come inside," Alora urged, wiping her face. "He will explain everything."
They moved to the living room. Conus followed, his heart tight. He knew he would have to lie again. If they learned who had given him his power, he feared what the outcome would bring.
He told them about a Dream. He described a vast plain where cards floated before him, all of which contained strange powers. He spoke of reaching out, choosing one, and waking with the mark and power flowing through his veins.
It was false, but it was close enough. Many Pugnators spoke of Dreams when they awakened. Each story was unique, each landscape different. Yet, the common pick amongst all of their dreams, was that they all had to pick randomly from the list of cards whose faces were hidden. He had tailored his story around this.
And they believed him.
Ishira leaned forward, eyes shining. "You are the first of us to awaken even after passing the age of sixteen," he said with wonder. "The first since the Elders."
The Elders were the first generation of Pugnators. The ones who had awakened first. They were considered legends.
Conus shifted uncomfortably. "Father, I want this to stay between us. No one can know I awakened late."
Ishira nodded without hesitation. "You are right. Attention like that draws the wrong eyes. We should keep it hidden. Thankfully, not many people know you were once a Normie." He stroked his bearded chin.
"Thank you," Conus murmured, allowing himself to relax slightly.
"But," Ishira added, his tone firm, "you still need to register."
Conus tensed.
"Do not worry," Ishira said. "You are still young. A late registration will get you nothing worse than a warning or a little fine."
He was right. By law, every Pugnator had to be registered with the government and issued an ID. It was more than a formality, it was control. Nations could not afford unclaimed Pugnators. Too many wars had been fought, entire armies destroyed since the appearance of these awakened beings.
For accountability, each nation made it mandatory that every Pugnator must be registered and accounted for.
Conus leaned back, his fingers tightening on the chair. The idea unsettled him, but he had no choice.
"Alright," Conus said at last, though his gaze returned again to the glowing digits above his father's head. Level 75 (D). He could not stop staring.
That ability to appraise a Pugnator's strength was of extraordinary value. Normally, gauging once's level of power required the use of expensive technology, an Aura Machine that measured the density and flow of energy in a body. This was what birthed the rankings.
And here he was, able to do it with a glance. He had never heard of anybody with such an ability. Blinking, the value disappeared. He smiled as he realized he could use this power at will.
"There is a Pugnator Management Office near my Order," Ishira said, pulling him from his thoughts. "We will register you there. If all goes well…" His lips curved into a grin. "You can come with me on a raid."
Conus blinked. "I can?"
"Yes," Ishira chuckled. "But only as a guest. You will not engage with the otherworlders. You have just awakened, son. Compared to the others, you are a child. Barely able to crawl."
Conus nodded, hiding the smile tugging at his lips. A child? Perhaps that was what his father saw. But Conus knew better.
"Of course," he said aloud, voice calm.