『The Weight of our Name』
Jasper enjoyed his walks home.
Music was his constant companion on the long trek to the old apartment complex. It sat on the outer edges of Houston, a solid half-hour walk from Lamar.
Evening didn't crash down.
It stretched.
It yawned.
It settled over Houston like an exhausted giant finally allowing itself to rest.
Jasper walked beneath that heavy sky with music threading through his headphones and both hands shoved deep in his pockets. His steps matched the beat—slow, deliberate, unhurried.
This stretch of road belonged to him alone.
No classmates whispering comparisons behind cupped hands.
No teachers watching him like he might spontaneously combust from mediocrity.
No bullies and their constant pressure.
Just asphalt, fading daylight, and the long familiar walk home.
Houston's outer districts still carried scars from the Gates. Not fresh wounds, not bleeding—but permanent. Buildings thrown up too fast. Streets that no longer lined up with the maps people still remembered. Empty lots wearing the exact shape of what used to stand there.
Third Ward had burned to nothing when the first Gates tore open. Most of it stayed ash and silence. Very few places survived.
In fact, much of Houston's outer districts were destroyed entirely. Very few apartment complexes remained standing.
Jasper's apartment complex was one of the stubborn ones.
Old brick.
Cracked concrete stairs.
Unremarkable at first glance—except that it *stood*.
The one Jasper's family furnished, homed others in, and lived in themselves was exactly that kind of survivor.
The Zanabēlu family hadn't just moved in; they had helped *rebuild* it. Opened doors when people had nowhere left to go. Forgave debts quietly. Traded favors in whispers.
They weren't rich—not by any means. No private estates, no gleaming towers, no trust funds waiting at eighteen.
But they were once generations of an ancient Magus family from before the modern era—much like the Pendragons had been knights for generations, or the Einzberns had been magus-alchemists.
The point was that they had connections and hidden influence rather than money. Favors. Jobs. Secrets. Many means were traded for goods and services. Many debts owed to the family.
And the Zanabēlu family weren't bad people—not at all, in fact. They were often almost selfless, choosing to help their fellow man. It hadn't always been that way. But in more modern times they had changed—especially once their own branch settled in America, a land far different from the Middle East.
—————
Jasper pulled his headphones off at the entrance.
Sound rushed back in: distant voices, footsteps echoing in the stairwell, someone arguing softly two floors below.
Messy.
Unfiltered.
Alive.
He sighed, then started the climb.
Five flights.
No elevator.
Never an elevator.
His parents insisted on one of the apartments on the highest floor. Something about how convenience was for those who needed it, but those who were higher needed to show they were worthy of their privileges by going through more.
Jasper was sure it was some bullshit they thought up to humble him—not that he needed help in that. He was very well-read. He had read about the old history of Greece, the story of the boy Icarus who learned hubris the hard way—through death.
By the third floor his thighs were complaining.
By the fourth he was questioning every decision that led him here.
By the fifth he was philosophically opposed to the concept of verticality itself.
—————
"Abba! I'm home!"
The door clicked shut behind him. He leaned against it for a second, catching his breath, breathing heavily from the final climb.
"Hey Jas, sorry I didn't respond right away. I was on a business call. Yemma is still at work at the hospital. She didn't say how late, but it's safe to say it's just you and me for dinner tonight."
Mattai Zanabēlu stood at the stove—a gentle mountain of a man. Broad shoulders, arms like carved stone, thick ashy-gray beard framing a face that somehow balanced raw strength and unmistakable kindness. His skin was the same deep, sun-warmed shade as Jasper's.
Where Jasper carried doubt like a second skin, Mattai carried certainty—earned over decades, through choices and quiet failures no one else ever saw.
Despite moving to America, Matthias (Mattai) Zanabēlu kept most of his Middle Eastern roots. But when he married Jasper's mother, he softened in leniency, letting Jasper learn many of America's manners and culture as his own.
If Jasper asked him, he'd say that his Yemma made him soft—but really he just wanted a better and easier life for his son. Free from an oppressive culture of violence.
"Too bad she's a workaholic. I wish she'd take it easy and just come home to eat with us."Jasper sighed deeply, slightly disappointed.
"You know how your Yemma is. She just wants to help as many as she can save. She's that kind of person." Mattai shrugged, cooking a dish he saw on the internet. His father was a rather elite businessman. He seemed to have some sort of sixth sense when a deal was going to pull through and bring in money. He worked everything from stocks to massive portfolios. His job was often to obtain wealth for others, in exchange for favors in the future.
Meanwhile, Jasper's mother was a renowned doctor. She took in patients without insurance and did what she could to take care of others who couldn't take care of themselves. A modern-day saintess, Mattai called her more often than not.
Both of his parents, however, were normal. No summons. No mana. Nothing.
And Jasper had never told them about the key—or the dreams of the gate.
He honestly never planned to until he got strong enough to apply to Chiron and make them proud.
Unbeknownst to his two friends, Jasper had deep issues with self-worth. He believed the words of the bullies. He truly believed that his summon being useless determined his own worth, ordaining him to be worthless.
But his parents?
They didn't *need* power.
They simply *were* something else entirely.
And Jasper…
Jasper felt like he measured up to neither.
"Hmm… I don't care for that look on your face. What's the matter with you, Bin?"
Mattai frowned as he crossed his thick, burly, barrel-shaped arms over each other and tucked them against his wide chest.
Jasper could deflect. Could lie. Could do what he always did.
But something about today—the dungeon, Arti, Sieg, that conversation under the tree—had cracked the shell open just enough.
"Abba… I… I feel useless. Worthless actually…"
Jasper couldn't help the sigh, the disappointed tone that made him feel distant from himself. The words landed heavier than he expected.
"Bin…"
Mattai swore he felt his heart breaking. He had raised his son with kindness in a cruel world. He knew a day like this would come—especially with summons being equivalent to power in this day and age.
Mattai didn't interrupt. Didn't dismiss. Didn't rush to fix it. He simply exhaled, long and slow, stroking his beard as he leaned back against the counter.
"Have I ever told you the history of our family name?"
"No…? We have a history?"
Jasper frowned deeply, but then recalled the words of the voice from his spirit realm.
«My Zanabēlu family.»
He realized their family belonged to someone—was the possession of some great person or being.
Mattai seemed to notice the wheels turning in Jasper's head. "Our roots go back long before modern rankings, before guilds, before any of this. Our name more or less means the King's Key, or Key of the King. Our history is a long one, descending from an ancient Magus family that dates all the way back into the ancient times of Babylon and Uruk."
"Uruk…?"
Jasper tilted his head in confusion. He had never heard of that country before.
"Yes, the Kingdom of Uruk. The kingdom of our great-great ancestor. We were a family made from his relation to an unclaimed concubine. However, he has always claimed our family as his, under his protection."
Mattai shrugged lightly as he looked away. "In the most basic of terms, son… we were ordained to rule."
*Ordained to rule.*
Jasper had heard those exact words before.
"Abba… I have a confession…"
Jasper sighed deeply, the guilt of a child withholding.
Mattai frowned as he gave Jasper a very observant gaze.
"Does it have anything to do with that key you've had since you were a toddler?"
Jasper deadpanned, mortified as he scrambled to think of anything.
"I mean…"
Mattai let out a small laugh as he shook his head.
"Out with it, boy. We haven't all day."
Jasper let out a small sigh of disbelief as he finally released his guilty secret to his family.
"The key is my Summon, Abba."
"Oh…?"
Mattai was barely hiding his ecstatic mood. Summons had the potential for growth, the potential for much, much more than whatever face value was seen. And he had always felt like his son was destined for more.
"But it's worthless, Abba. It's just an F—was just an F-rank."
Jasper frowned softly.
"Nonsense, boy. You evolved it?"
Mattai accused, knowing he hadn't seen or noticed any explosive changes in Jasper.
"Yeah. It's an E+ rank now."
Jasper shrugged.
"What's the name?"
His father glared at him—not out of anger, but to get the story out of the boy because his own excitement could wait no longer.
"『Legendary Spare Key』"
Long silence.
Then Mattai laughed again—not mocking, not dismissive, but full and genuine.
"A spare key," he repeated, shaking his head like the punchline had finally arrived. "Of course it is."
Jasper frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Mattai stepped closer. His presence filled the small kitchen without crowding it. He crouched slightly so they were eye-to-eye.
"Bin… a key is not a weapon. It's not armor. It's not raw strength."
Jasper's throat tightened. "Yeah. I noticed."
Mattai smiled—small, knowing.
"But a key *opens things*. It grants access. To places others cannot reach."
The words settled slowly, like stones dropping into deep water.
"A spare key…" Mattai's voice dropped softer, "…is not for the obvious doors."
Jasper blinked.
"It's for the doors no one else knows exist."
Something turned inside Jasper's chest. Quiet. Unseen. Until now.
Mattai reached out and tapped two fingers lightly against Jasper's sternum.
"Your name, Bin. Zanabēlu."
Another gentle tap.
"King's Key."
The air felt thicker. Warmer.
"You tell me…" Mattai murmured. "Does that sound worthless to you?"
Jasper didn't answer.
Couldn't.
Because for the first time—
It didn't.
Not entirely.
Not anymore.
Somewhere far beyond the kitchen, beyond the city, beyond even the reach of thought—
In a place of endless stone and silent gold—
A gate waited.
And the key…
was finally beginning to understand what it had always been meant to open.