Siegfried Fors
Hacker.
That single word kept circling in my head. I stared at it on the page, the black stains around it still pulsing faintly with leftover mana. I really thought I left that word behind forever. I thought I would never hear it again… not in this life.
Even Father Kaelen at the church hadn't heard of this 'Hacker' Arcana before. Seeing the unfamiliar word, Mother and the others had immediately asked him about it. Father Kaelen, having no answer, asked a nun to bring an 'Arcana Dictionary'—I didn't even know such a thing existed. The dictionary was supposedly comprehensive, containing every single arcana that had appeared since the founding of the empire. After painstakingly going through it, there was no sign of the Hacker Arcana.
Well, that was expected.
My family simply decided they would think about it later. Perhaps they already knew something, or maybe for them, this was just another mystery around me waiting to be solved.
While walking back home, I glanced over my shoulder. My family was excitedly talking among themselves, everyone buzzing with the new information. Everyone except Uncle. He seemed depressed, slowly muttering to himself, "How... did I age... two years...?"
His misery tugged at my focus until I couldn't ignore it anymore. I let out a breath and slowed my steps.
"Listen," I said.
He lifted his head, looking like a kicked puppy.
"From what I heard, Ebony used my mana as an anchor to escape the time dungeon. I awakened two years ago. Which means you've been in the world for two years. So of course you aged two years."
"Ah." His eyes widened slightly. "That… makes sense."
He wandered off into his thoughts again, nodding to himself as if he'd discovered the meaning of life.
He didn't think of that until now. Is he that stupid?
I couldn't help the small sigh that slipped out.
The manor gates came into view, guards standing straight as ever, but there were three more figures waiting beside them. Aifa, Ashar, and Blake. All three straightened the moment they spotted us.
"Good morning, Lord Fors, Lady Fors, Lady Valka," they said in perfect unison, bowing deeply.
Grandpa, Mother, and Granny returned the greeting and headed inside. Granny paused at the door and threw me a look that carried a very clear message: do not stay out too long. Uncle shuffled after them, still half-lost in his own confusion.
"So," Aifa said, her voice bright. "How did it go, young lord?" Her eyes sparkled with so much anticipation it felt like she was vibrating.
"I think you can say… good. Everyone looked pleased."
"Young lord… is it there?" Blake asked. He had the same monotone voice and the same blank expression, yet somehow the tension in him felt sharper than the sword at his waist
"Yes. I have a Swordmaster arcana."
A flicker of light broke through his usually unreadable face. "Good. Then we can start practicing Swordmaster techniques soon."
Ashar clapped softly, surprise lifting his brows. "So it really was Swordmaster. That's incredible, young lord."
"What other arcanas do you have?" Aifa asked, leaning in with practically glittering curiosity.
"My legs are a little tired," I said. "Let's sit somewhere first."
They agreed immediately, falling into step beside me as we headed toward the arena. The soldiers were already training, metal striking metal. We took seats in the audience stands, a quiet enough corner for a private talk.
I stretched my legs out and let the noise from the arena fade into the background.
Then I told them everything.
The strange reaction to the evaluation paper.
Unknown "White" element.
The "Aethel" magic Father Kaelen mentioned.
How he reacted after seeing my reaction to medallion, nearly laughing himself senseless.
The stained page that refused to clear.
And finally… the arcana that slipped out from beneath the ink.
Hacker.
"It was one thing after another. We should have gone with the young lord to see all this from the front seat," Ashar said, clearly amused by the whole story.
"Don't talk like my life is some soap opera."
Aifa didn't even hear me. She was too busy staring at the evaluation paper like it held the secrets of the world.
"But… to think young lord has Hawkeye…" Her voice wavered with disbelief. "I always knew your aim was good, but this…"
"What hierarchy is your bow arcana at?" I asked.
She hesitated before answering. "…I am also at Hawkeye."
... Of course she would be shocked. She had spent her entire life polishing her archery, day after day, arrow after arrow… and here stood a kid barely past his eighth birthday sharing the same stage she worked so hard to reach.
Aifa swallowed and straightened her back. "Young lord is truly remarkable." There was awe in her voice, and the spark in her eyes practically glowed. "Now we can train you in archery too. Let's reach Grand Archer together."
I couldn't help but smile. So typical of her.
"Just don't get in the way of our sword training," Blake said flatly.
Aifa stuck her tongue out at him. "Bleh."
"Hmph. So unrefined."
Ashar laughed and took the paper from Aifa's hands. "Young lord also has other impressive arcanas like Spellweaver and Ironfist." His gaze met mine. "Young lord should learn more spells and improve magic control to evolve Spellweaver. And continue hand-to-hand combat with Lady Aifa to evolve Ironfist."
Mother and Granny said the same thing earlier.
"What is that book you're carrying?" Aifa finally asked, noticing the weight resting on my lap.
"Oh, this." I lifted it slightly. "Father Kaelen gave it to me before we left. It contains Aethel magic spells." I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a medallion. "He also gave me this."
The medallion rested in my palm, cold and smooth.
Unlike Kaelen's silver one, this one shimmered a warm bronze tone, the medallion bore a beautifully sculpted image of Aethelhum. The branches stretched outward in sweeping, elegant arcs while tiny engravings wrapped the edge like a protective wreath.
Aifa's brows lifted. She took it carefully, rolling it in her hand. "He gave you a medallion too? A copper one at that?"
Apparently, followers of Aethelhum had a ranking system for medallions:
Wood for normal believers.
Copper for Acolytes and Deacons.
Silver for Priests and Priestesses.
Gold for High Priests.
Cardinals carried platinum ones with rainbow luster.
And the Supreme Pontifex—the highest authority of the entire faith—held a platinum medallion threaded with gold embroidery.
"But isn't it strange? Doesn't a follower of Aethelhum normally awaken an Aethel-related Arcana?" Aifa asked.
"…They do," Blake replied in his usual calm tone.
Aifa stared at me. "But young lord doesn't have one. So why give him a medallion?"
"I'm sure he believes the missing Arcana is just hidden behind the stained part," Ashar said, tapping the page with a lazy smirk. "In Father Kaelen's head… this is some kind of divine sign."
Yeah… considering the way he lost his mind before, that checks out. I knew overly devoted people existed in my past life, but this was my first time dealing with one directly. The kind who confuse devotion with obsession... Not a pleasant experience.
"So are all followers of the Faith this crazy?" I asked.
"Mostly those ranked from Deacon upward," Ashar replied. "Especially High Priests and some Cardinals. Though there aren't many Cardinals left now."
"Not many left?" I looked at him questioningly.
Ashar nodded. "There are supposed to be ten Cardinals. They are second only to the Supreme Pontifex. But right now, only five remain. They lost seven during the war against the Beast of Cataclysm. Only two seats have been filled since then."
Every day, I learn a little more about how deeply that catastrophe scarred the world.
"But this is problematic. If Kaelen reports this, wouldn't they try to recruit young lord?" Aifa said, concern spilling into her voice.
Blake's expression darkened. "Maybe we should silence him."
"Hey. Calm down."
I raised a hand before he could go marching back to the church with a sword.
He looked genuinely ready.
"Still… Aifa isn't wrong," Ashar added, his gaze fixed on the stained page. "There are rumors the Faith takes in children with rare potential. Some say they even kidnap and brainwash them."
Wait. For real?
"That last part won't happen." Aifa crossed her arms confidently. "They wouldn't dare touch young lord. He's Lady Valka's son."
Blake nodded, almost proud.
Ashar handed the paper back. "True. Even the Faith wouldn't pick a fight with someone at the level of a 'Throne', not when their upper ranks still haven't fully recovered."
"Level of Throne? Now what is that?" I asked, the unfamiliar term sparking instant curiosity.
"Oh? Young lord doesn't know about them?" Before Ashar could continue or I could press for an answer, Blake interjected.
"Six Thrones." His gaze drifted somewhere far away, as if memory and reverence shared the same space. "Six humans who stand above the rest of the world. Their strength is unmatched and defies all reason. Each one alone has the power to topple kingdoms or shake entire continents. They rule nations and embody the peak of what humanity can be. The Six Strongest Humans. The Killers Of The Beast Of Cataclysm."
Wow. Six Thrones... Strongest in the world... And Mother… is as strong as them.
A prickling chill danced along my spine, but it wasn't fear. It felt like a spark igniting deep in my chest. A fire that whispered of impossible heights, of a future far beyond this small corner of Aethelgia.
To be that strong… strong enough to protect everything. Strong enough that nothing, not fate, not monsters, not gods, could take anything from me. Strong enough that no one could ever force me to kneel. Not in this life. Not ever again.
Erik Fors
I gulped down the wine in one go and let my head fall back against the sofa. The world felt heavy and unreasonably unfair. Only the cushions welcomed me like an old friend, and for a brief second, calm settled into my bones.
Then a voice ruined it.
"You are soooo overreacting."
I opened my eyes just enough to glare at sis as she casually poured herself another cup.
"Shut up, Sis. You are a hag now, as if you will understand." I closed my eyes again, bracing myself for the retort.
"Oh ho, you really want to die today, huh."
"At this point, just kill me," I said, fully surrendering to fate.
"Gladly." Knuckles cracked in front of me.
A moment later a sharp bonk sounded, followed by sis's very offended "ouch."
"Seriously, what are you two doing in broad daylight?" Ma's voice cut through the chaos as she entered, eyes flicking between us.
"Drinking away my sorrows," I said, dramatically raising my empty glass like a fallen hero.
Ma sighed. "Erik, stop acting like the world ended. It's just two years."
Just two years?
To her, maybe time was a passing breeze. To me, it was a stolen treasure.
Two years of youth. Two years of freedom. Two years of… everything.
Before I could begin my thorough explanation of how existence had personally wronged me, Ma's tone shifted.
"Back to important matters." Her expression sharpened. "It's about that white magic."
Sis paused mid-sip. "What? You know something?"
"I didn't want to mention it in front of Kaelen, but when Sieg fought Erik… Ebony… his mana changed. It turned from his usual green to white."
I do remember seeing some white during that time; a terrifying pain came with it.
Ma continued. "He struck Ebony with it and cracked the helm. That was the only visible damage until Valka arrived."
"Are you sure? There was also Sieg talking about seeing a griffin and all," Sis asked, still not looking convinced.
"I'm certain." Ma's voice left no room for doubt. Then her gaze shifted to me. "Erik… do you remember anything?"
I tried to gather the pieces in my head. The memories weren't clear, more like fragments drifting through fog. Most of the time I was half asleep, fading in and out while the world moved around me. But then there was that moment: the hit to the face, a blinding white flash, and suddenly everything sharpened.
Like someone dumped freezing water over me in the dead of winter. Every thought snapped awake.
I explained everything to Sis and Ma as best I could.
"It awakened you? Instead of Aethel magic it sounds more like this 'white' magic is related to Moon magic." Sis crossed her arms as if the mystery already bored her.
Ma wasn't as quick to dismiss. "Even so… we don't have certainty. What matters more now is what Kaelen plans to do. If he reports this to his higher-ups in the Faith, things could get complicated."
Now that she mentioned it… Kaelen did say he would investigate this white magic.
"Relax," Sis said, shrugging with casual confidence. "You know who has that part handled."
"Who are you talking about?" I asked, feeling like the only one in the room missing the script.
All this time, they'd only asked me to be silent about Zayn's real identity and Sis's title in front of Siegfried. Apparently, there was more. Of course there was more.
"You don't need to know," she replied bluntly.
I opened my mouth ready to pick a fight but Ma placed her hand on my shoulder.
"We'll tell you everything once we deal with the time dungeon."
Time dungeon.
Even thinking about it sent a chill down my spine.
Of all things to return to.
Why couldn't life give me one season of peace? Just one?
Before I could dwell on it, Sis spoke again.
"Speaking of the dungeon, how about we bring Sieg along too?" She smiled like she was suggesting taking him fishing.
Is she insane?
That's how I expected Ma to react, but she only asked calmly, "...Are you sure?"
"Ma, you can't actually be thinking of bringing him along. He's eight years old! He might be stronger than a normal eight-year-old, but he is still a kid."
"True, but moment by moment, he has proved himself to be capable of holding his own. I might not even be here if it wasn't for him. He has gotten strong, and... it's about time we... I stop pulling his potential down."
Sis stood abruptly, fire in her voice.
"Exactly. "It's a Time Dungeon! Many adventurers die of old age before they get a chance to lay an eye on one, and it spawned in our backyard. How can he miss this?"
Ma nodded once. "As long as he wants to go. The choice is his."
But the small smile at the corner of her mouth said she already knew the answer.
"Then it's decided. Sieg is coming with us tomorrow." Sis announced like a festival organizer instead of a mother signing her child into temporal doom.
"Good luck, Siegfried," I muttered, staring into the half-filled wine. "Let's hope you don't lose eleven years."