Did Rino do that?
He couldn't remember.
"I'll sit here," he said finally.
Styx's face fell for a moment, but she bounced back almost immediately. "Okay! But if you change your mind, I'll be catching frogs in the garden!"
She bounded off, her footsteps heavy enough to rattle the furniture.
Rigas had finished his apology and was now carefully repairing the wall with trembling hands, very aware of his wife's watchful glare. Xylia had moved on to aggressively reorganizing the kitchen, slamming pots and pans with enough force to dent them.
A normal morning in the household.
Piers closed his eyes.
In the darkness behind his eyelids, he could feel it—the infinite mana coiling inside him like a sleeping serpent. Vast. Endless. Cold.
It didn't feel like power.
It felt like hunger.
The Void System had explained this too. The more mana he used, the more his emotional capacity would corrode. Already, he'd lost most of his fear, his anger, his joy. What remained was a dull awareness, a distant observation of the world through thick glass.
At 50% corruption, he'd lose empathy entirely.
At 75%, he'd lose the ability to recognize faces.
At 100%...
At 100%, he'd forget Rino completely.
And he wouldn't even care that he'd forgotten.
Convenient, some part of him whispered. Wouldn't it be easier? To just let go?
He opened his eyes.
"Piers!"
Xylia's voice cut through, sharp with concern. She was in front of him again, her calloused hands cupping his face.
"Honey, you zoned out again. Are you feeling alright? Should I call the healer from—"
"No healer," Piers said flatly.
They'd had this conversation before. Xylia wanted to bring someone to examine him, worried about his "melancholy disposition" and "concerning silences." Rigas had refused, saying it was too dangerous to let outsiders know they were here.
Piers agreed with Rigas.
Not because he cared about danger.
But because a healer would probably notice the infinite mana, and that seemed like it would create complications.
Complications were annoying.
"I'm fine," he added, because she was still staring at him with those worried grey eyes.
Xylia bit her lip. "You're always 'fine,' sweetheart. But you barely smile. You barely play. You just... sit there. Like you're somewhere else."
Am I somewhere else? Piers thought. In some void, watching all of you through a window? He couldn't tell.
But he knew what Xylia needed. He'd learned that much over three years.
He reached up
And patted her head clumsily. A gesture, something from a life before this one.
It seemed to work. Xylia's expression softened, and she pulled him into a gentle hug.
"My precious boy," she whispered. "I'll protect you. No matter what."
Piers let her hold him. He counted to thirty in his head—the approximate duration of her hugs—and then she released him, seemingly satisfied.
As she returned to the kitchen, Rigas caught Piers' eye and gave him a sympathetic shrug, as if to say, Women, right?
Piers stared back blankly.
Rigas coughed and went back to fixing the wall.
The morning passed slowly.
Styx did, in fact, find a frog. She brought it inside to show Piers. It escaped. Xylia shrieked. Rigas tried to catch it with magic and accidentally set a chair on fire. Xylia put out the fire by throwing a bucket of water on it. The frog escaped outside.
Styx cried.
Rigas promised to find her a new frog.
Xylia threatened to turn him into a frog.
Piers watched it all with the same distant interest one might observe ants building a colony.
By evening, the house had settled into a comfortable routine. Rigas was meditating outside, refreshing the barrier. Styx was "helping" by throwing pebbles at him. Xylia was preparing dinner, humming tunelessly.
Piers sat by the window, watching the sun set through the trees.
And then he felt it.
A pulse.
The barrier flickered—just for a second—and his Void System flared to life.
[WARNING: HOSTILE ENTITIES DETECTED]
[DISTANCE: 200 METERS AND CLOSING]
[ENTITY TYPE: MANA-CORRUPTED BEASTS x4]
[THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE]
[PROBABILITY OF ATTRACTION TO USER'S MANA SIGNATURE: 96%]
Piers tilted his head slightly.
Four this time. More than usual.
Outside, Rigas had stopped meditating. His easy-going expression had vanished, replaced by something harder. More focused.
"Xylia," he called, his voice steady. "We have company."
The humming stopped.
Xylia appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyes scanned the tree line, and Piers watched her expression shift from domestic warmth to something cold and dangerous.
"How many?" she asked quietly.
"Four. Maybe five. Hard to tell with the barrier interference."
"Can you hold them?"
Rigas cracked his knuckles, water already beginning to swirl around his hands.
Nothing I can't handle."
Before launching his attack, he glanced back — at Styx, who had stopped throwing pebbles and was now looking around nervously, and at Piers, who sat motionless by the window.
"Keep the children inside."
Xylia nodded once. She turned to Styx. "Inside. Now."
"But—"
"NOW."
Styx scrambled inside without argument.
Xylia's gaze landed on Piers. For a moment, something passed through her expression—worry, fear, determination. A complicated knot of emotions he couldn't parse and didn't try to.
She didn't say anything. Instead, she scooped him up from the chair—gently but firmly—and carried him away from the window to the corner of the room where Styx was already huddled.
"Stay here. Both of you," she said quietly, settling Piers beside his sister.
Styx immediately latched onto him, her small arms wrapping around his middle.
Xylia positioned herself between the children and the door, her body a barrier. Her expression had shifted again—no longer the worried mother, but something colder. Ready.
Outside, the barrier pulsed—brighter this time. Shapes moved in the shadows between the trees. Low. Prowling.
One stepped into the fading light.
A wolf. Or what used to be one. Its fur was matted with black ichor, eyes glowing red, jaw hanging at an unnatural angle. Bone jutted through rotting flesh.
Mana corruption, Piers thought distantly.
Three more emerged. A bear-thing. A twisted boar. Something unidentifiable. All corrupted.
They circled the barrier, testing for weaknesses.
Rigas stood in the center of the clearing, water already spiraling around his hands. Despite his usual goofiness, his stance was solid now. Focused.
"Alright, Let's make this quick."
The wolf lunged.
Rigas flicked his wrist. A pressurized jet of water shot forward, punching clean through its skull. The beast dropped mid-leap, dissolving into black smoke.
The bear charged next.
Rigas sidestepped lazily and conjured a water whip that wrapped around its legs. One hard yank. The creature crashed face-first into the dirt. A sphere of compressed water dropped on its head like a hammer. Crack. Done.
Two left.
The boar-thing hesitated. Smart enough to recognize a predator when it saw one.
Not smart enough to run.
Rigas grinned. "Come on, I haven't even broken a sweat yet."
It charged anyway. Rigas raised both hands. Blades of pressurized water materialized and crossed through the creature in an X-pattern. It collapsed in pieces.
The last one—the twisted, unidentifiable thing—turned to flee.
"Nope." Rigas snapped his fingers. A spear of water shot forward, impaling it through the back. It shrieked once before dissolving.
Silence.
Rigas dusted off his hands, the water magic dissipating. "Well, that was disappointing. I was hoping for at least a warm-up."
---
Inside, Piers sat in the corner where his mother had placed him, Styx clinging to his side. He'd watched the entire thing through a small hole in the wall with empty gray eyes.
His Void System hummed in the back of his mind.
[CORRUPTION CAUSE: SUPPRESSION — DETAILS UNKNOWN] [NULL CORRUPTION LEVEL: 47% → 48%] [EMOTIONAL RESPONSE: NONE DETECTED] [RECOMMENDATION: REMAIN PASSIVE. ENGAGEMENT WILL ACCELERATE CORRUPTION.]
He'd watched his father kill four corrupted beasts in under two minutes.
He felt nothing.
Not relief. pride. or fear.
Just... empty.
Xylia appeared beside him, her hand resting gently on his head. She didn't say anything.
Outside, Rigas stretched and walked back toward the house, whistling.
And Piers sat there, thinking distantly that this was only going to get worse.
That eventually, there would be too many.
That when that day came, people would die because of him.
And feeling absolutely nothing about it at all.