Kairo was about to step away, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the estate grounds.
Hey! Stop right there!
A voice cut through the air sharp as a blade.
Kairo barely turned his head.
The boy from earlier, the one who had been surrounded by thugs, was running toward him.
Panic still lingered in his eyes.
Wait!
the boy shouted.
I asked for your help before…
but you didn't do anything!
He turned to the tall man beside him.
Uncle…
I want you to make him help me!
The butler's expression didn't change.
Calm, unyielding.
I'm sorry, young master, he said.
I cannot intervene.
That boy… he has no cultivation power.
Even if he tried, he would die.
I cannot allow that.
The boy's fists clenched, teeth grinding, but he remained silent.
Then he looked back at Kairo, voice trembling with anger.
This time, I let you go… but next time, I won't.
Kairo didn't respond.
He lowered his gaze and continued walking, the words sliding off him like rain on stone.
The boy muttered under his breath, turning to the butler.
Why did you let him go?
The butler's eyes met his.
You may not realize…
he is the young master of the Kelric family.
I will not allow conflict between him and your house.
If your father learns of this… both you and I would face punishment.
The boy swallowed hard.
Silence filled the space between them, heavy and tense.
Kairo finally reached the house.
The gates loomed overhead, yet he barely noticed.
The shield at his side felt like the only weight in the world.
Inside, the house buzzed with activity.
Zyrith, Kairo's eldest brother, moved with deliberate grace, placing gifts for their parents on the polished table.
One by one, neatly arranged.
Then he lifted a finely crafted third-grade sword and handed it to Ketlos.
Here, Zyrith said simply. For the academy.
Ketlos blinked, uncertain.
Brother… you didn't have to.
I could have received this after the academy training.
Zyrith shook his head, lips curling into a faint smile.
No, little brother.
Keep it.
Now.
Kairo moved quietly in the background, unnoticed.
He kept his head down, the shadow of the shield against his chest, silent, observing.
Zyrith's eyes caught him.
Kairo, he called. Firm. Commanding.
Kairo stepped forward.
Zyrith placed a fifth-grade shield into his hands.
Heavy metal, cold, unyielding.
This will serve you well, Zyrith said.
His gaze was steady.
You cannot cultivate…
but this can save you from a strong monster.
That is enough.
Kairo's fingers traced the edges.
Cold. Protective. A small comfort in a world that never cared.
Ketlos's face twisted subtly, jealousy flickering in his dark eyes.
He stepped closer, muttering under his breath, That shield should be mine.
I'll face monsters at the academy… I need it more than him.
Zyrith's voice cut through, gentle yet firm.
Do not worry, little brother. I will get you a new one.
Ketlos scowled. His fists tightened. He glanced at their parents, who stood behind Zyrith.
Their eyes were calm, yet commanding.
Kairo, mother said quietly, give it to Ketlos.
See how sad he became just now.
Kairo exhaled, extending the shield forward.
He didn't speak. He didn't hesitate.
The metal passed from his hands to Ketlos's, heavy with silence, heavy with unspoken truths.
Ketlos gripped it tightly, the weight both satisfying and bitter.
Kairo turned, stepping away.
His mind drifted elsewhere—back to the river, to the red stone, to the fire inside him that no one could see.
The world outside the estate stretched on, unaware.
But Kairo could feel it already watching, waiting.
And they had no idea what was coming.