After the inspection, they all returned home. Aelric looked a bit down but had accepted his fate. As dinner time arrived, the three of them gathered around the table. Aelric was the last to come and took a seat near the wall.
On the wall hung a photo—only the three of them were in it: Aelric, Zevril, and Grandpa.
In the photo, Aelric and Zevril were smiling. Aelric held an orb with a preserved leaf inside, while Zevril held a sword with many cracks on it, some parts broken. Grandpa stood behind them with a cheerful smile, his arms folded proudly.
On the dining table, there was a spread of food: grilled meat and vegetable soup. As they began eating, Aelric looked up and asked,
"Grandpa... what about our parents? You've never really talked about our mom or dad. You only said they died in an accident while on a mission, right?"
Grandpa's smile slowly faded. He had no words. The silence grew heavy until Zevril finally said quietly,
"Aelric... this isn't the time for this."
A tear rolled down Aelric's cheek.
"Tell me about our parents. How did they die, exactly?" he whispered.
"If my parents could use magic… why can't I?"
He bit his lip, trying to hold himself together. Even though he acted fine during the inspection, deep down, he was broken.
Zevril remained silent, placing his hand on Aelric's shoulder—but Aelric suddenly shrugged it off.
"I need to know... why am I like this?!" he cried, his voice trembling. His hands clenched into fists on the table.
Grandpa couldn't lift his head. Guilt coiled around him like a snake. Under the soft yellow glow of the bulbs, the night crept on. Rain began to fall outside, and thunder shook the sky.
Finally, Grandpa lifted his head and said,
"Your mother was a fortune teller… and your father… was a thunder mage. That's all I can tell for now. Go and sleep well. Starting tomorrow, you two will train yourselves to become stronger."
After a while, Aelric went upstairs to sleep. Zevril remained alone as the light faded. As darkness fell across the room, lightning streaked past the window, illuminating his silhouette. He sat in front of it as the bolt faded. One of his eyes glowed a deep purple; the other, a dark black.
In that moment, he looked like a broken king—sitting in the shadows, defined only by the lightning's flash.
"Aelric… I'll find a way, no matter what," he whispered, his eyes filled with determination.
Then he quietly went upstairs, glanced at Aelric, and lay beside him.
Downstairs, Grandpa lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. A thunderstorm raged outside. His memory flashed.
Rain lashed the wilds. Thunder roared through the sky.
Sword in hand and clad in knight's armor, Grandpa stood in the forest. In front of him stood a woman holding two babies—one with white hair, the other with black. The woman's own hair was a swirl of white and pink.
She pointed at Grandpa and said,
"You will carry these babies and raise them."
Grandpa scowled.
"Why should I raise them? Who are you? What are you doing in the middle of the forest?"
The woman laughed softly.
"I'm a fortune teller. And one day, this world will drown in darkness. Nothing will remain. What will you do—stay in the darkness or follow the only light that shines?"
Grandpa stood confused, gripping his sword tighter. A sudden explosion echoed from the distance. He looked toward it, but the woman whispered again,
"My time has come. I must go. Take care of them."
In a flash of teleportation magic, she vanished, leaving the babies on the wet ground.
Grandpa stared at them, unmoving, then turned to walk away. But the cry of one baby echoed in his chest. Something deep inside him couldn't bear to leave them.
He removed his helmet. He looked to be in his middle age with a bald face, long black hair tied back, and dead eyes filled with no emotion—eyes dulled by countless wars and loss.
Slowly, he knelt, took the babies into his arms, adjusted their hair gently, and gave a faint smile.
"If fate says I must raise you… then I'll do it."
The memory ended. Now, in the present, Grandpa's hair had turned half gray, half black.
"How could I tell them the truth, when I don't fully understand it myself?"
And
Far away, in the mage tower, the inspector from earlier sat with a frustrated look.
"Hmm... I've read every book, but I can't find an answer. Why is there a forest in that boy's core realm? Usually, every core reflects the user's element."
He paused, tapping his chin.
"And that girl... if I'm not wrong, she was an elf. This isn't just rare... it's unnatural. And that black-haired boy… he scared the hell out of me. But even his realm was thunder, so it's fine."
He folded his arms and paced in a circle.
"But that white-haired boy... his core is broken. No, not just broken—it's vanished."
He grabbed a bottle of wine off the round wooden table and took a swig.
"It's definitely not fire… not water, wind, or earth. Not thunder or beast, not space… not even time or manipulation magic. What the hell is going on with that boy?"
He stood in frustration, then laughed bitterly.
"Tch… let time decide the rest. Some truths are better left buried."
And that's how the night ended—in thunder.