Piers stepped forward, his expression tightening.
"Dad, what was that? What exactly happened to Liel and Lein?"
The concern in his voice cut through the last traces of silence. Rigas cleared his throat, slipping into what could only be described as his "professional mentor" mode.
"Listen, son. Whoever you slap a name on… you're basically handing 'em a piece of your own juice—your mana. Think of it as a boost. Problem is, if their own pipes ain't big enough to handle all that extra flow… it overloads 'em.
"Kinda like what we just saw — messy, loud, and boom."
He gestured vaguely to where the chaos had been moments before.
Piers's brow knit.
"So… this all happened because I gave them names?"
"Exactly, my boy. Sharp as ever."
Rigas's voice softened—then brightened with sudden pride.
"But! Let me tell you something."
His tone swelled with theatrical triumph.
"Today, I witnessed my son—my flesh and blood—use power that could save lives! Astonishing!"
He puffed out his chest and struck a pose somewhere between heroic… and deeply embarrassing.
"From this day forward, I, your brilliant and loving father, will personally oversee your training! With me guiding you, none of you will ever fall to such a weak situation again!"
A pause.
Heavy. Immovable.
Only the leaves and distant birds dared to fill it.
Rigas's proud pose wilted.
His smile trembled.
"What? That wasn't inspiring? You're breaking your old man's heart here!"
He clutched his chest with dramatic suffering.
Liel and Lein exchanged a glance—determination flickering in their eyes like twin sparks.
Liel stepped forward first.
"We'll work hard!" she declared firmly.
Then she blinked, realizing she had no idea what to call him. She stared up at Rigas, eyes wide.
"It's Rigas," he replied with a grin.
"Yes… Shishō Rigas!"
A faint blush bloomed on her cheeks.
She held the smile for a beat… long enough for Lein to think he was safe—
THUMP.
Her foot landed precisely on his, the message shooting up his spine.
"Your turn, you idiot."
He jerked forward with a muffled yelp.
Then straightened quickly.
"Y-Yeah! Just like she said, Shishō—we'll work really hard!"
Laughter rippled through the group, warm and light.
Tension dissolved, replaced by something quieter, gentler—an unspoken vow to grow stronger together.
But Piers wasn't entirely relaxed.
One thought sliced through everything:
…How did he get in here?
"Dad," he said, suspicion creeping into his tone, "how did you get past my barrier?"
Rigas chuckled, mouth curling into a dangerous grin.
"Well, you see, my son… you tend to leak a considerable amount of mana when you're not suppressing it. And I just so happen to possess a little skill that lets me… let's say, borrow from nearby sources."
A slow, conspiratorial wink.
Piers stared—torn between being impressed and mildly annoyed.
"…Seriously?"
Off to the side, Luci watched him quietly.
There was something different in the way he spoke with his father—the curiosity brightening his eyes, the slight lift in his voice.
A small, gentle smile touched her lips.
She had seen his power, his composure, his fearlessness…
But this—this spark of boyish wonder—
She found herself cherishing it.
After the slightly awkward—but undeniably bonding—exchange, Gyuunyuu, Liel, Lein, Luci, Mutou, and Thog each approached Rigas in turn.
Names were traded.
Nods exchanged.
The air warmed with a subtle shift—
as though an invisible pact had settled over them all.
Then—
Both Piers and Rigas froze.
From the direction of their home, a dark, prickling aura rolled outward—thick and oppressive, like a storm front smothering the air itself.
They exchanged a single look.
No words needed.
Xylia knew.
Piers gave a subtle nod; Rigas answered with a knowing, almost pitying smile.
Without hesitation, Piers called out,
"Dad, I'll be back tonight! You can train them until then!"
Rigas raised a thumbs-up, grin sharp and mischievous.
And Piers vanished—
a blur slicing through the air.
Rigas turned back to the group. The warmth in his expression melted away, replaced by something
sharper, dangerous, almost predatory.
"Well then, kids…" he drawled, smile widening,
"Let's find out just how capable you really are."
Liel, Lein, Luci, and Thog stiffened.
Someone gulped. Maybe all of them.
Even Gyuunyuu and Mutou—felt a subtle itch of unease crawl up their spines.
The atmosphere had changed—
no more easy chatter.
This was training mode.
Meanwhile—
High above the house, Piers hovered in mid-air. The wind tugged at his hair as he scanned below.
There—
his mother.
Xylia stood in the garden,
Completely motionless among the flowers, her shadow long beneath the midday sun light, trembling ever so slightly.
One hand clutched her opposite arm; the other hovered near her face, teeth biting mercilessly at her thumbnail.
Her eyes—wide and glassy—darted between the house, the gate, the treeline.
Over and over.
As if sheer willpower could summon her son into view.
Where could he be? What happened?
frantic loop of fear and desperate hope.
A bead of sweat slid down her temple.
Her breathing hitched.
Her aura trembled around her like a cracked flame.
Where is he?
What happened?
Piers winced. Not again.
Just beyond her, He spotted Styx also, she was already making her way toward the barrier, sword in hand, determination blazing on her face. Seconds away from launching a one-person search party.
Oh no you don't… that'll just make things worse, Piers thought.
He focused.
Telepathy — engaged.
'Neesan, if I ever call you like this, come to Mom right away,' he instructed, voice echoing in her mind.
Styx froze mid-step, eyes widening.
Piers? Talking to my head?
Her brows furrowed in brief confusion—then smoothed out almost instantly as if the thought had just… fallen out of her brain.
'…Okay,' she replied, still dazed.
Without another second wasted, Piers zipped back into his room, slipping through the window like a phantom.
He paused, took a breath, straightened his shirt, and arranged his expression until he looked exactly like a boy who had definitely been asleep the whole time.
Alright… casual. Just casual.
With practiced nonchalance, he strolled out into the garden.
"Mom, why are you shouting? I was asleep," adding a touch of annoyed-sounding confusion.
Xylia spun at the sound, eyes flooding with relief. She rushed forward, arms outstretched, ready to sweep him into a crushing hug—
"Stop, Mama."
Her steps faltered.
Confusion flickered across her features at his gentle but firm tone.
"I wanted to tell you one thing first."
She paused, breath catching. "Yes?" she whispered.
"If you always worry like this every time…"—he lifted his chin, voice pitched theatrically high—
"…I'll never be able to grow up properly!"
Piers inhaled dramatically, puffing his chest, squeezing his eyes shut in exaggerated seriousness.
Tears welled in Xylia's eyes, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Pride—warm, fierce—softened her expression. She blinked away the wetness and nodded.
"Alright," she said softly, with genuine feeling. "I'll try my best… to contain myself."
Inside, however, a mother's watchful heart remained vigilant, even as she promised to step back.
.
>
.
>
.
Three days earlier…
The night Talon forged his alliances with the Harpy King and Lamia Queen—pacts sealed beneath a secluded hut's roof—
elsewhere, in another hut, Rook was packing his bag.
His movements were sharp, purposeful. Klak, Rapi, and Skree stood nearby, the air thick with tension.
"So… you've really decided?" Klak asked, voice dipped in worry.
Rook didn't pause as he shoved supplies into his pack.
"Yes. I can't stay here any longer."
Skree leaned on the doorway, arms folded. Her eyes searched him.
"But where will you even go? What's the plan?"
Rapi, the smallest of the three, stepped forward, voice hesitant.
"Is this… because of Talon's new alliances?"
Rook froze—just a beat—before looking up.
"Not just that," he said, the words heavy. "I can't sit here relying on alliances alone. For our people's sake… I have to go. I have to ask the humans for help."
He resumed packing, faster now.
"The journey normally takes ten days. With my… abilities"—a subtle gesture—"I can make it in seven. And after what I overheard from Father and the other tribe leaders… I can't waste time."
Klak stiffened. "You overheard them? What were they—"
"Enough," Rook cut in. A shadow crossed his face. "Enough to know that staying will only make things worse. We Kenku were born for movement, for speed."
His friends traded worried glances.
"But it's too dangerous to go alone," Skree protested. "You can't just leave."
"I have to," Rook insisted, turning to face them, his voice filled with a desperate determination.
"Then we go together."
Klak stepped forward first, feathers bristling.
Rapi nodded without hesitation.
"You're not leaving us behind."
Skree grinned, sharp and fearless.
"Seven days or less, right?" she said. "Then let's make it six."
.
.
.
Piers and Styx sat across from each other at the dining table, locked in what could only be described as a culinary standoff.
In front of Piers sat a miserable bowl of soup—steam curling lazily upward as if even it had given up. He stared into it, brow furrowed, his mind a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts.
The Memory This Memory Loop Trap... could I actually use it on Mom? Would that even be okay? What if something goes wrong—
CHOMP.
A vicious bite shattered his train of thought..
He looked up.
Styx was annihilating her plate of grilled meat and vegetables with frightening enthusiasm—every bite an act of primal devotion.
Seriously, look at her go… like a wild animal. That's impressive. In a horrifying sort of way.
Then it hit him.
A wicked, slow-blooming grin spread across his face—one that should've come with ominous background music.
Oh… I have an idea.
Styx caught the grin mid-bite. She blinked at him with wide, innocent eyes, fork still loaded, head tilting slightly like a puzzled puppy.
She swallowed, the sound muffled by the half-chewed meat in her mouth.
"…Gulp?"
Piers activated Modal Maker.
Boom!
Sad soup—gone. In its place: a glorious stack of juicy, perfectly grilled burgers.
He smirked. Time for the show.
He picked up one burger with slow, deliberate grace, as though holding a sacred relic. Then came the performance — the opening act of his grand scheme.
"This food…" he murmured, voice trembling with fake awe, "…the food I just made… is simply… divine."
He took a bite. Slowly. Dramatically. His eyes widened, lips curling in bliss, and a low hum of contentment slipped past his throat. Every micro-expression — the subtle brow lift, the deep, satisfied sigh — was a masterstroke.
Oscar-worthy. Truly.
Across the table, Styx froze mid-chew, her gaze locked onto him. Her pupils dilated. A single thread of drool dangled from her lip, swaying dangerously. The little smear of sauce on her cheek seemed to twitch with anticipation.
"Can I have one?" she asked at last, voice tiny, brimming with pure longing.
Her gaze locked on the burger like it might vanish.
Piers softened—just slightly.
"Yes, you can have it, my dear sister," he said, dripping with faux generosity.
"I'm always happy to share."
He extended the burger.
She lunged.
It vanished.
Her cheeks ballooned as she bit down.
Her eyes rolled back in pure bliss. A symphony of muffled, delighted noises escaped her stuffed mouth.
"Mmmmmmm!" she moaned. "This yummy thing is SOOOOO good!"
Piers watched,
Then he grinned, sharklike.
"So, neesan…" he began, his tone dropping to a low, scheming purr.
Styx froze, mid–chew.
Her eyes darted—Piers… burgers… Piers… burgers.
"…Gulp…"
"If you do a little favor for me," he continued smoothly, "I'll give you another one. From my personal stash."
Her pupils blew wide.
"A favor?? What?? I'll do it! Anything!"
Leaning in, his grin spread like a slow, creeping shadow.
"I want you to make a funny face. In front of Mom."
It took time for the words to fight through the burger fog. Her expression flickered:
Confusion → dawning horror → absolute, pure dread.
"…NOOOOO…"
Piers arched a brow, voice smooth as melted butter.
"Think about it, SIS. These burgers… I can make them anytime you want. You can have another one—no, take them all. I'm not even hungry. So… what do you say?"
Styx trembled.
Fear vs. hunger.
A brutal internal war.
"NO—yes—NO—YES—YES!"
Resolved.
Decision made. The deal was struck.
And right on cue, the door swung open and Xylia stepped inside, carrying a bucket brimming with fresh vegetables in her arms.
"Go, neesan," he whispered, his smile turning downright devilish.
She shot him a look—a perfect mask of pure trepidation.
"…What now?" she squeaked.
Piers just nodded, smiling like a fox who'd already counted the chickens.
With a tiny gulp, she slid off her chair and began the slowest, most reluctant walk of her life.
Each step was tentative, like her legs had been swapped for lead pipes.
Okay… just this once, her kid brain hatching a simple plan:
If Mom gets mad, I'll just run!
Meanwhile, Piers shifted gears.
Alright… time to lock this in.
Sorry, Mom—but this is for my freedom.
Skill Activated: Memory Loop Trap.
A soft violet shimmer wrapped around Xylia's head. Her gaze went glassy, shoulders loosened, distant—her lips curling into a faint, slipping into a haze of idealized family memories—completely detached from the present.
Styx, unaware, crept closer…
Close enough now,
She sucked in a big breath…
and then delivered her magnum opus:
Fingers hooked under her eyes, pulling Them wide, lips stretched into a ridiculous "V." hips popping sideways—
a full–body performance of weaponized silliness.
She froze, ready to bolt — but
Silence.
Nothing from Xylia.
Styx blinked confused—briefly overtaking her fear.
Doubled down—adding a jaunty hip-bump, sticking her butt out.
"Mama! Look! Look what I'm doing!"
Still nothing.
From the table, Piers exhaled.
When her mother stayed serenely trapped in her loop, he finally let go—
"…Yes… it worked!" he burst out, springing onto the table in triumph, arms flung wide like a conquering hero.
Styx instantly dropped the act and spun around,
Wide, innocent eyes blinked up at Piers—brimming with pure, unguarded appeal.
She launched at him, wrapping him in a hug far tighter than her small frame should allow.
"I knew it, Piers! I knew you wouldn't betray me like Papa did…"
voice muffled, rubbing her cheek against his shirt like a needy cat.
He stiffened, caught between shock and the uncomfortable damp spot spreading on his shirt.
"…Yeah, yeah, whatever,"
But the corner of his mouth softened into a small, reluctant smile.
* * *