It's hot. The ground feels like lava.
But I remain kneeling for hours, the rough earth slowly digging into my skin. I don't move. I don't blink. I only stare at the cave in the distance the empty hole that swallowed the last trace of my parents' lives.
"I guess they're gone, huh…? They didn't even say goodbye."
My voice comes out flat. Quiet. Too controlled.
The ache in my chest is impossible to name. Anger? Sadness? Hatred?
No. Something closer to shock.
Maybe confusion fits better because the world suddenly feels wrong, like the colors are off, like sound is missing, like something fundamental just… snapped.
People die every day. Losing someone is part of life.
But when it happens to you… it sits differently.
It hurts deeper.
"It's just me and one-year-old Synera now. Damn."
I clasp my hands together and whisper a small prayer. Not even a good one. Just… something to fill the emptiness.
I thought I'd cry more.
But maybe because they were never home much, my heart feels strangely…
Indifferent.
Aunt Martha had been more of a parent than either of them. She was there for every scraped knee, every nightmare, every random meltdown.
My parents? They were shadows with titles.
The summer sand stings my pores, but that pain is nothing compared to the hollow weight in my chest.
Baggs, Wyoming is unforgiving in the heat, yet the townspeople push on working, living, helping each other. Helping me too, even though I said I was "abandoned."
(Not entirely true… kind of.)
Mana exists in this world. Makes life easier. In big cities, flying mages and enhanced workers aren't shocking. But here in this little town? Not so much.
Except for one person:
Aunt Martha Gratos.
She's the reason the town still stands. She's stopped dimensional outbreaks, fought ranked terrorists, and handled crap that would make the average citizen pass out.
A local legend.
But now she's "old."
Or more accurately… lazy.
I think she's around fifty, based on what my parents used to say. She retired for reasons she never explained, though she could still fight for another half century easy.
"Damn… I'm bleeding."
Red trickles down my knee, but I don't flinch. It's the kind of injury you don't feel until you see it.
"Aunty will probably heal it," I mutter. "If she wakes up. One of those mana goats is gonna be dinner, not gonna lie. Some goat stew sounds amazing right now."
A small, exhausted grin twitches across my lips. The first sign I'm still human.
Ten minutes later, I reach the pasture.
Synera is still asleep, curled up in the grass like a tiny angel, oblivious to the universe collapsing around her.
Yeah. I'm not telling her anything yet.
"Gods of the Upper Looms, you fucking suck. How could you take away her parents?" I whisper.
I step closer. Time to pick up the sleeping angel and bring her to Aunty.
But as I bend down, a cool breeze brushes my skin. The green grass sways. Synera's soft breaths puff against her little lips.
For a moment, a small smirk tugs at my face.
Yeah… things are going to be alright.
"I just have to get stronger. A lot fucking stronger."
I lift Synera gently, resting her cheek on my shoulder. It's past 2 p.m., but the sun still blazes like a solar beam.
"At least she's not awake."
I don't care if the sun darkens my skin or melts my flip flops. Synera is everything now.
Another ten minutes pass. I glance down at her peaceful face.
"She must be protected at all costs… even if it costs "
"Eyyyyyy! You finally made it!"
I nearly drop the baby.
"Shhhh! The baby!" I hiss.
"Oh shit. My bad," Aunt Martha whispers back.
She tiptoes over terribly, by the way then mouths silently, She is one fucking cute baby though…
"Ma, don't curse in front of the baby. I don't need my angel sister talking like the sewers in L.A."
I stare directly into my aunt's relaxed blue eyes.
"Woah, woah, woah. First of all, why the L.A. sewer system specifically? And second… are you implying I'm a bad influence on you two?"
"…That's for you to decide, ma."
"Wow. And here I thought I was your favorite aunt. The news really got to you."
"Well… you're also the only aunt I know. So… does that count?"
"I guess you're right to some degree…"
She studies Synera, something unreadable passing through her eyes something heavy, protective, maybe even guilty.
"Is something wrong?" I ask.
"No, just… thinking about dinner. One of the mana goats okay?"
"…Ah. I see."
But why did she look at Synera when she said that…?
Whatever. As long as she's not planning on eating my sister, we're good.
Probably.
"Anyway," she says, waving a hand, "let's go inside. It gets chilly later. Don't want the baby waking up outside."
"She's four, ma. Give her something to work with."
"She is one, Ren. Not one month."
"Fair."
I hand Synera over but don't go inside immediately. Instead, I stand before the mana-infused house and smile.
Not creepily just a small, determined grin.
"I'll become the strongest in the world. Stronger than Mom. Dad. You. Stronger than anyone. I'll be the best…"
At least… that's what I hope.
Night comes earlier than expected, a cool breeze threading through my curly hair.
"That way Synera won't die. She'll live a happy life."
I clench my fist, raising it toward the sky.
"If you gods really exist… I'm coming for you personally. I'll become strong enough to reach you. Be fucking ready."
I flip off the sky.
"A little present from me to you."
Before the wind can answer back or laugh in my face I hear Aunt Martha calling from inside.
"Why don't you take a seat, Ren? The rice is almost done."
"How's Synera?"
"She's sleeping soundly," Martha replies, stirring a large pot. "I gave her a whole Dimona's pizza slice. She'll be knocked out for a while. Looks like she was awake even when you brought her."
"I see…"
She watches me quietly. Mana-light shimmer dances through the room as her irises glow calm, icy blue.
Then her voice drops into that rare serious tone the one even ranked terrorists would shut up for.
"Ren," she says softly, "sit down. It's time to talk about your future."
Her mana flares not aggressive, just steady, like she's anchoring the moment in place.
"Your parents are dead. Now it's just your African aunty and your four-year-old sister. What are you going to do?"
I stay silent. Not to be rude.
Just uncertain.
"You're still a kid," she continues. "Barely eleven. But what about school? Don't you want to go to a proper middle school? Get stronger? Smarter? There are options in other cities, even other states."
"…I do. But I… don't know."
A breeze slips in. The air feels thick enough to chew.
"I'll close the window," I mutter, mostly to stall.
"You know," she says as I move, "I can vouch for you, Ren."
I pause. "…You can what, ma'am?"
"I can get you into a private magic academy. For kids."
"You can? With what money?"
She lets out a long, exhausted sigh.
"This child… you really think I'm some broke aunty with only magic to my name."
"When did I ever sa "
"Anyway," she cuts in, "I'm rich. And my kids are rich, too. I don't put my mana inside poor men."
I blink. "Phrasing, Aunty. Please, for the love of "
"Shut it."
Her eyes narrow dangerously.
"I didn't know you even had kids."
"Are you trying to say I'm too fucking ugly to be in a relationship, you brat?"
"No, ma! You just never mentioned them."
"Well, you know I used to be a Ranker. Retired now."
"But Aunty, don't most Rankers retire at, like, 150?"
"Correct. Since we cultivate mana, we stay young much longer."
And she does.
She looks more like a pissed-off supermodel than a retired warrior.
"That makes sense… So you could take me to one of those rich schools in New York or California?"
"If you want to go that far, why the fuck not?"
She reclines in her rocking chair.
I take a breath. "Um… after my parents died, I thought a lot about school. And… I think I want to start when I'm high school age. Maybe two or three years from now."
The chair squeaks violently as Martha snaps forward.
"Are you OUTTA your fuckin' mind, boy?" Her accent thickens instantly. "You're throwing away a golden chance to be great just to chill in this wannabe southern ass town for two years?"
I stay quiet.
"Answer me before I stuff you in the freezer. You ain't surviving my ice magic today."
"I want to self-study first."
She freezes.
Blinks. Twice.
"…You want to self-study?"
"Yes, ma."
She leans so far forward I swear she touched another dimension.
"This little boy wants to make life difficult. Hah! Insane. Absolutely insane."
"…Are you talking to "
"No, I am not insane. YOU are insane," she snaps. "You want to learn martial arts and A-tier mana manipulation before high school? When you have ZERO mana? And you want ME to "
"I just need guidance, ma. That's all."
"You're really insane if you think I'm teaching you ice magic or mana theory when you don't even have a damn spark in your body. I am WAY too lazy for this nonsense."
I drop my gaze to the carpet.
Yeah… maybe my dream was too big.
She sighs again, but this time it's slower. Less annoyed. More sad.
"Ren… even if you had mana, it would take YEARS to master even basic spells. Or martial arts. It's not easy."
"I know," I whisper.
"But I still have to try."
Her brow furrows. "Why? Why are you so desperate all of a sudden? I've seen kids dream big, but you this ain't dreaming. This is obsession."
My throat tightens.
"I… have a feeling," I say quietly.
"A feeling?"
"That the accident wasn't an accident."
Her mana flares violently just for a second.
"Ren. Be careful what you're implying."
"I'm not implying. I'm saying."
My fists tremble.
"People don't just die in clean, unexplained dimensional collapses. Not both parents. Not like that. And definitely not right after they took Synera on their trip."
Martha looks away, her jaw clenched.
"So that's it?" she murmurs. "You're doing all this because you think someone killed them?"
"No."
I look her straight in the eyes.
"I'm doing this because Synera is all I have left."
Her gaze softens.
"She's my blood. My sister. My responsibility. And if someone wanted our parents dead… they might come for her too."
Martha doesn't speak.
Her silence confirms something she didn't want to say.
That she agrees.
That she is suspicious too.
"Ren…" she whispers. "Honey… protecting Synera isn't your job alone."
"Yes it is."
"No, it's "
"It IS!"
My voice cracks.
"I'm her big brother. I'm all she has left. I won't let her live scared. Or alone. Or hunted. I can't!"
The room goes quiet.
Only the pot on the stove bubbles softly.
Finally, Martha sighs.
"…You remind me of your father."
My breath stops.
"Dad…?"
She nods, leaning back slowly.
"Your old man was reckless as hell. Annoying as hell. Too kind for his own good. But when he decided to protect someone?"
She chuckles painfully.
"You couldn't move him with a damn hurricane."
A warm, blurry memory surfaces Dad crouching beside me in the yard, the smell of dusty summer air filling my lungs.
His face appears in the haze of memory warm brown skin, tired eyes, that goofy smile he wore even when he looked like he hadn't slept in a day.
"Ren," he said once, kneeling so we were eye level. "The world is run by the strong, the powerful, and the famed…"
He ruffled my hair, laughing when I smacked his hand away.
"…but never let greed for the top be the cause of your downfall."
"Why not?"
"Because power without purpose makes you rotten."
He tapped my chest. "But power with love? That makes you unstoppable."
He looked toward the house, where Synera barely a few months old at the time was sleeping inside.
"You and your sister… you two will change each other's worlds."
He smiled at me then soft, gentle.
"Protect her when I'm gone, okay?"
"Gone? Like work gone?"
"Something like that."
My breath shudders as the memory fades.
Martha watches me, her expression unreadable.
"You see?" she says softly. "He trusted you long before any of this happened."
I wipe my eyes quickly. "I know."
"And you still want to go through with this insane plan?"
"Yes."
"…Even knowing I think it's stupid?"
"Yes."
She rubs her temples. "Boy, I swear you're gonna be the death of me."
"Probably."
"How about this," I said, trying to sound confident even though my hands were sweating like sinners in church. "If I get strong enough to fight you and last five minutes within three to four years… you pay for my tuition at any high school I choose. And Synera's too. And you can never question my plans again."
Martha stared at me like I'd just asked to borrow her kidneys.
She scoffed. "And what if I win?"
"Well… I… uh…"
Shit. Didn't think that far.
"I'll follow your orders," I blurted. "Anything you say, as long as it's not illegal."
"Boy, that's a shitty deal." She waved a hand. "I don't want your 'I'm your slave' nonsense. That ain't for me."
She scratched her cheek with one long nail, thinking.
"Instead," she muttered, "you'll work for my kids. They probably need manpower anyway."
"That sounds fine," I said quickly. "So… we got a deal, ma?"
I extended my hand.
She stared at it like it was the dumbest thing she'd ever seen.
"Are you stupid? Ain't you trying to be a Ranker? Rankers don't shake hands like they're selling Girl Scout cookies. We sign a bond contract. A real one."
"But I don't have mana "
"Exactly," she cut in. "So we're doing a soul bond, not a mana bond."
I froze. "…A soul what now?"
"A Noir Soul Bond," she said casually. "Old magic. Doesn't need mana. Just guts, willpower, and a stupid kid who doesn't know what he's signing."
"That's… somehow worse."
"Correct."
She raised her palm.
A small blue orb of cold, shimmering light appeared more spiritual than elemental.
The air didn't just drop in temperature my spine dropped.
Black inscriptions spiraled around the orb, glowing faintly like ancient writing whispered directly into the soul.
"This is a Noir Soul Bond," Martha said, her voice steady, almost ceremonial. "Once spoken, once accepted, not even the gods can take it back."
The mention of gods made my jaw clench again.
Good.
Let them listen.
She lifted the orb.
"I, Martha Graots, vow to uphold this agreement until my last breath."
I swallowed hard. My throat felt too small.
But I forced my hand up anyway, mimicking her posture.
My orb didn't appear with mana but with heat.
A faint red glow, tiny, fragile, powered by nothing but soul force and pure stubbornness.
"I… Ren Gratos," I said, voice trembling but firm, "vow to uphold this agreement until my last breath."
The world went silent.
Then
A rush of burning heat slammed into my chest like a molten fist. I gasped.
My heart seized, clenching so hard I thought it would burst out through my ribs.
"G gah!"
"You're feeling the constraints of the Soul Bond," Martha said casually, like I'd stubbed my toe. "Don't worry. It ain't gonna kill ya. Mostly."
"Well I really hope not " I wheezed. "That'd be unlucky as shit."
The last of the burning subsided, leaving only a strange hum under my skin like another heartbeat had fused with mine.
She nodded. "Good. Now it's official. No backing out."
I let out a shaky breath.
But something inside me felt… clearer. Sharper.
Like the bond wasn't just a deal.
It was a promise.
Martha crossed her arms, studying me. Her expression softened rare, but real.
"Ren… this isn't just ambition for you, is it?"
I shook my head.
"It's protection," she said.
"Yeah."
"It's family."
"Yeah."
"And revenge…" Her voice dipped. "…maybe."
I didn't look away. "Maybe."
"And love," she added softly.
I swallowed. Hard. "…Yeah."
She sighed through her nose the kind of sigh people let out when they understand you deeper than you want to be understood.
"Don't worry about your sister," she said. "She'll be fine here. My kids are coming to help with the little one."
I blinked not because she offered help, but because she didn't ask for anything extra.
This was the same woman who once told a famous Ranker team from Chicago:
"If you want me on your team, give me thirty-three percent of the profits."
They had twenty people.
She asked for one-third.
Absolute insanity.
"She's overloaded with cuteness," Aunt Martha added. "That alone is enough reason for me."
"Fair enough," I muttered.
This was it.
This was real.
This was binding.
Not just ambition anymore.
It was:
Protection.
Family.
Revenge.
Love.
All locked into a Soul Bond I couldn't break even if I wanted to.
But I didn't want to.
Not now.