After finishing the meal, Lucas rose from his chair, determination burning in his eyes.
"All right, Mom," he said, voice steady. "I'm heading out to practice."
His mother looked up, worry flickering behind her soft smile.
"Lucas... why do you train so much? You'll awaken your skill when the time is right. There's no need to push yourself so hard."
Lucas hesitated. For a second, something vulnerable passed through his gaze—but it vanished behind a playful grin.
"I just want to be ready. No harm in a little extra practice, right?"
Before she could say more, he turned and stepped outside, his footsteps echoing through the quiet house.
Out in the fading light, Lucas reached for his bow and arrows. The familiar weight grounded him. He walked toward the small clearing behind their home—his personal training ground, worn by days of sweat and silence.
As he stood in the center, he whispered to himself,
"Let's see how much stronger I've become."
Drawing an arrow, he loosed it with precision. It struck the target dead center. But there was no joy—no sense of victory. Just emptiness.
His thoughts drifted—back to that moment.
The betrayal. The cold steel piercing his chest. The lifeless eyes of the one he trusted most.
His hands trembled.
Another arrow. Another shot.
The target shattered—but the ache remained.
"Why... Iskai?" His voice was raw, trembling. "Was I really nothing to you?"
He drew the bow again, harder this time. Wood creaked under the pressure. Pain surged as the bow snapped in his grip, the string slashing across his hand. Blood bloomed.
But even that pain was fleeting. His body shimmered faintly with magic as the wound closed before he could feel it. He stared at his now-healed hand, hollow.
Not even pain would stay with him.
With a frustrated cry, he dropped to the ground, lying on his back. The sky stretched endlessly above him—calm, distant, uncaring.
His fingers curled into his chest, as though trying to claw out the sorrow etched into his soul.
"You could've said something, Iskai. Anything. Why did you leave me with nothing but silence?"
Tears spilled, warm trails down cold cheeks.
The wind whispered, carrying no answers—only the stillness of a world that had moved on without him.
He stayed like that as the stars blinked awake above, lost in memories that didn't belong to this world.
Then, from inside the house, a familiar voice called out—soft and warm, like a lifeline.
"Lucas! Come eat, sweetheart. I made your favorite!"
The sound snapped him back.
He blinked, wiped his face quickly, and sat up. The weight in his chest didn't leave, but he wore a smile anyway—a practiced mask.
Picking up his broken bow and arrows, he murmured,
"Training's done for today. But... I still don't have the answer."
He walked back to the cottage, letting the scent of warm food and comfort guide him through the dark. As he stepped inside, the cozy light wrapped around him like a blanket.
His mother stood at the table, her smile gentle, eyes full of the kind of love he had never doubted.
"Come, sit down, my lovely child."
Lucas gave a soft chuckle, masking the storm inside.
"Smells amazing, Mom."
Without hesitation, Lucas rushed over and slid into his seat, the wooden chair creaking beneath him. He flashed a wide grin at his mother, a practiced smile that tried to cover the heaviness pressing on his heart.
"Hurry, Mom! I'm starving after all that training!" he said, his voice carrying forced cheer.
His mother chuckled warmly, wiping her hands on her apron as she brought over a wooden tray. The dim candlelight danced across her features, softening the small creases that time and hardship had etched into her skin.
"I made something special for you today," she said, a quiet pride in her voice as she placed the tray in front of him.
Lucas leaned forward, curious. The scent hit him first—smoky, rich, and wild. His smile faded just slightly as she lifted the lid.
Grilled meat, perfectly seared, glistened with juices and spices. The aroma was mouthwatering… but unfamiliar.
Lucas blinked, a small crease forming between his brows. "Wait... this scent…" He leaned closer, eyes narrowing.
"This isn't regular meat… Is this—?"
"B-rank monster meat?" his mother finished, smirking slightly as she placed her hands on her hips. "That's right."
Lucas looked up at her in disbelief.
"Where did you even get this?" he asked slowly, his voice tinged with both awe and concern. "Did something happen?"
She waved him off with a smile. "While you were out training, one of those beasts wandered too close to the forest line. It thought I was an easy target." Her eyes twinkled as she added, "It was wrong."
Lucas stared at her, silent for a moment. Sometimes, he forgot. Forgot just how powerful his mother truly was. To the village, she was just a kind woman with a warm laugh and gentle hands. But to monsters… she was something else entirely.
"I always forget how cool you are," he muttered with a chuckle, trying to lighten the sudden swell of emotion inside him.
He picked up a piece of meat, the heat still lingering in its tender fibers. As he bit into it, the flavor burst across his tongue—smoky, slightly sweet, with a sharp kick of wild spice.
His eyes widened. "This is amazing."
His mother smiled, reaching across the table to gently ruffle his hair. Her fingers lingered a little too long, and Lucas sensed something beneath the gesture—something unspoken.
"I'm glad you like it," she whispered, her voice almost lost in the crackle of the fire. "As long as you're safe… as long as you're happy… that's all I want."
Lucas swallowed hard, not just the food but the emotion threatening to rise in his throat. He wanted to say something. To tell her how much she meant to him. That he remembered the sacrifices. The nights she stayed awake just to keep him warm. That he knew—deep down—he didn't have much time left here.
But instead, he just nodded, forcing another smile. "Thanks, Mom."
They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds the clink of cutlery and the soft pop of embers in the hearth. It was a simple moment. But one Lucas wanted to burn into his memory.
Because in the back of his mind, one truth refused to fade.
This peace won't last forever.
He looked up at her, her eyes crinkled in warmth as she watched him eat.