After a Year of Mana Training with Father

  The newborn’s cries pierced the stillness of the small, candlelit room—a fragile, urgent sound that filled the air with both hope and vulnerability. Ella cradled the tiny life in her arms, her hands trembling as sweat mixed with tears on her flushed cheeks. The warmth of the child against her chest was a stark contrast to the cold uncertainty that clung to the walls around them. She hummed a soft lullaby, her voice gentle and soothing, a tender promise of protection and love.

  Nearby, Father stood silently, his face alight with a mixture of pride and awe as he gazed upon his son. The exhaustion of the day was etched into his features, but in his eyes shone a fierce, unwavering joy.

  Turning toward me, he smiled warmly, the weight of responsibility settling over his expression. “Son, Dliva—you’re a big brother now.”

  “A big brother?” I asked, tilting my head in confusion, the concept still new and strange to me. I searched his face for answers, hoping he would explain what that truly meant.

  Mother’s voice softened, full of warmth and reassurance. “Yes, a big brother. This means you’ll have new responsibilities—like caring for your younger brother.” She gently laid the sleeping newborn beside her, the baby’s breath slow and steady, a small miracle resting peacefully.

  I stared at the little one, my heart stirring with an unfamiliar yet powerful emotion. A quiet flame kindled deep within me, not the pain I had sometimes felt before, but a comforting warmth. It whispered a single, urgent thought: Protect him.

  Father’s voice drew me back from my thoughts, light with pride. “So, Dliva, have you thought of a name for your little brother?”

  The idea surprised me. “A name? I can name him?” I asked, a mix of excitement and awe filling my voice.

  “Yes, you can,” Father said with a gentle grin, encouraging me.

  I pondered for a moment, the weight of the responsibility settling over me. Then, with quiet certainty, the name came to me.

  “Koha,” I said softly. “In the ancient language, ‘Koha’ means ‘gifted.’”

  “Koha…” Father repeated thoughtfully, the name rolling off his tongue with a sense of approval.

  Mother smiled brightly, her eyes shining with pride. “Koha—gifted. You’ve chosen a beautiful and meaningful name, Dliva. Isn’t that right, Zekra?”

  Father nodded quickly, though it was clear Mother’s certainty had helped him decide. “Yes, it’s perfect.”

  But none of the names or words mattered as much as the small, sleeping bundle beside her—my little brother. A fierce resolve settled in my chest. No matter what challenges lay ahead, no matter the dangers or hardships, I would protect Koha with everything I had. He was my family, my responsibility, and the light that would guide me through the darkness.

  Two Days Later

  My grandparents arrived from the Kingdom of Alvans — the largest of all the kingdoms. Coincidentally, they came just two days after Suyou’s birth.

  To me, it felt like fate.

  I had never seen my grandparents before, only heard stories about them. Father once told me that my grandmother was the one who slayed the Demon King, bringing peace to the lands, and my grandfather had been a high-ranked assassin — even stronger than she was.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  I had also read about them in an old text called “The Hero’s Tale.” It was a chronicle of my grandmother’s adventures against the Demon King.

  I still remembered one of its most famous lines:

  |“The assassin replied, ‘The Demon Lord is weak for me."|

  Father once told me that line was spoken by my grandfather himself.

  As I stood there lost in thought, a knock came at the door. Father opened it — and there they were. My grandparents.

  Had they arrived that fast… or had I been lost in thought for that long?

  Forty Years Before the Present

  “Hmph, stop hiding and show yourself,” the woman commanded sharply, steadying her stance after the last attack. Her breathing was calm, but her eyes were sharp and unyielding, ready for whatever came next.

  A chilling laugh echoed from the woods—the eerie, unsettling laugh of a girl.

  “Your laughter won’t scare me,” the woman warned, voice steady. “Come out already.”

  In an instant, a flicker of black mist swirled before her, and a girl appeared. Her face was almost human—almost—but where her eyes should have been were empty, dark sockets that seemed to suck in the light.

  The woman froze, her voice barely a whisper. “W-what… are you?”

  The eyeless girl smirked, shadows curling around her lips. “Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My bad.” Her tone was mocking, casual. “My name is Nira. Pleased to meet you, human.”

  “Whatever you are,” the woman said, raising her sword, “you won’t get past me.”

  Nira’s grin widened. “How cute.” In a blink, she vanished and reappeared beside the woman, delivering a swift kick aimed straight at her face.

  The woman raised her left arm just in time to block, but the blow still rattled her, pain flaring through her muscles. She held her ground, refusing to falter.

  Nira took a step back, eyes gleaming with cruel delight. “Impressive! Not bad for a human girl.”

  “Oh, I’ll show you impressive,” the woman retorted, dashing forward with her blade flashing in the dim light. Slash after slash she struck—relentless and fluid—but Nira dodged every attack with inhuman speed, moving like smoke.

  “You’ve got stamina for a human,” Nira taunted before slamming a brutal kick into the woman’s stomach, sending her crashing through the thick trees.

  The girl chuckled softly as she approached the fallen warrior. “What a shame. I was just starting to enjoy myself.”

  The woman struggled to her feet, gripping her sword for support.

  Nira blinked in surprise, then began to clap mockingly. “Good! I’ll get to toy with you mo—”

  Her words cut off abruptly.

  Her instincts screamed danger.

  Before she could react, a blade sliced cleanly through her midsection.

  Blood sprayed across the forest floor as her body split apart, the two halves falling away.

  Even as her form broke, Nira’s empty sockets turned toward her killer. For a fleeting moment, she saw those eyes—no longer empty—but blazing crimson like sharpened blades.

  Then darkness claimed her.

  A faint ripple shimmered in the air, and a tall figure materialized beside the fallen.

  “Sister, you lost to a human,” Helv said coldly, his voice low and emotionless as he regarded the remains.

  The woman, Hela, kept her sword raised, eyes locked on him, every muscle tense and ready.

  Sensing the threat, Helv raised his hands in a placating gesture and stepped back. “We mean no harm. My sister is reckless.”

  He paused, then asked carefully, “What’s your name, madam?”

  “Hela,” she replied, unmoving.

  “Oh, Hela—that’s a beautiful name,” Helv said with a faint, almost mocking smile. “Very well. We’ll be going now.”

  With that, Helv vanished, teleporting away with his sister’s severed form.

  Far from the battlefield, Nira’s body began to reassemble, flesh knitting itself back together. She glared fiercely at Helv.

  “Why did you interfere? I could’ve killed her,” she spat.

  “Shut it,” Helv replied flatly. “You’re too weak, too inexperienced to face someone of her caliber.”

  Nira scowled. “Are you saying I’m not strong enough? And why did you let her live? Don’t tell me she was stronger than you.”

  Helv sighed. “I let her live because someone far stronger was watching nearby—waiting for the right moment to strike. If I had acted, we would have been up against two powerful humans.”

  “So what? I would’ve healed and helped!” Nira snapped.

  “Are you going to let me finish?” Helv’s glare was sharp. “We can’t start a major conflict until our leader makes a move.”

  Nira crossed her arms defiantly. “And when will that be?”

  Helv’s expression grew unreadable as he spoke softly,

  “Until the Wanderer arrives.”