It took a minute for Instructor Jordan to stop laughing. But behind the grin, I could sense something else—nostalgia, maybe even longing. Like he was watching someone return from the past.

  “I haven’t laughed like that in a long time,” he said softly.

  Then the mood shifted. His smile faded. He stared at me—really stared—and then turned to rummage through one of his drawers.

  “There it is,” he muttered.

  He held up a small device, something between a Holo Caster and a memory drive.

  “This is a prototype,” he said. “It only stores a single recording. But your father wanted you to have it.”

  I reached for it. The moment my fingers closed around the cool metal, a chill ran through me.

  “I’ll leave you alone,” Jordan added. “You’ll want privacy.”

  He walked out, his Xatu following silently, leaving me in the dim stillness of his office.

  I stared at the device. One message. One voice.

  I activated it.

  A pale blue light flickered into life—and then there he was.

  A man in his early thirties, dressed in travel gear, eyes sharp and kind. He looked around, almost as if the hologram could see the room.

  He looked like me.

  “Gabriel,” he said, voice warm and low. “If you’re watching this, it means you’re twelve—and you’ve made it to the Academy.”

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  He paused.

  “And it also means… I’m not there with you. For that, I’m sorry.”

  His eyes dropped for a second. I could see the regret in them. The weight of it.

  “I imagine you’ve got a thousand questions. I’ll try to answer a few.”

  He sat down, folding his hands.

  “You’re probably wondering where I went. Why I didn’t come back. The truth is… I’m tracking your grandfather. And your uncle.”

  My breath caught.

  “I’ve been searching for years. And now, I’ve finally found a lead. They’re hiding in a closed-off region—one not recognized by the League. If I haven’t returned… it means I found them. And I haven’t convinced them to surrender. Yet.”

  His voice tightened, just a little.

  “Our family—the Santos line—was heavily involved in the Kanto-Johto war. Your great-grandfather, Jesús Santos, was a Johto general. He fought to keep the war alive. When the Indigo Champion, Professor Oak, pushed for peace, my grandfather saw it as a threat.”

  I sat back, stunned. My hands had started to tremble.

  “He challenged the Indigo’s Champion. He died in that battle. My father—your grandfather—never forgave anyone. He went underground. Gathered loyalists. Trained his sons to hate the League.”

  “My brothers—Jorge and Pedro—joined him. One didn’t survive. The other… never stopped fighting.”

  He looked away, eyes glinting.

  “I was eleven. Your grandmother gave up everything to save me. She died so I could live a different life.”

  I swallowed hard. My throat was dry. My heartbeat echoed in my ears.

  “I swore I’d stop them. And with your mother’s help, we hunted down everything they’d built. We destroyed their network. But we never found them.”

  He looked into the camera now—straight at me.

  “Until now.”

  “I’m going after them, Gabe. And I won’t stop until our family is free from their shadow.”

  The hologram shimmered slightly.

  “I hope you don’t blame your mom for keeping this from you. She did what she had to. This was always supposed to come from me.”

  His voice grew gentler.

  “You’re safe at the Academy. You’ve got good people watching out for you. So go. Train. Grow. Live. Be strong… but more than that—be happy.”

  He smiled.

  “I love you, son. And I’ll see you again.”

  The light faded. Silence returned.

  I didn’t move.

  The air felt heavier. Thicker.

  My chest tightened. My fingers ached from how tightly I’d been gripping the chair.

  My grandfather was a terrorist.

  My uncle still is.

  My father is chasing ghosts—and might never come back.

  And all this time, I thought my biggest problem was being a “legacy kid.”

  I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let the tears fall.