On his way back to the Clan, Jules walked through the Noctharis town, his armor stained with dried blood, his shirt torn and red, his head dirty and his face streaked with dried tears.
As he walked between the members of the Leviathan Squad through the illuminated streets, he could sense their stares and hushed murmurs.
Amongst these murmurs were whispers born from observing Jules. Even Jules's guides noticed the weird air around him.
The Jules everyone knew of, the wimpy boy traumatized and scared of battle, was no more.
From what they heard, Jules had survived an assassination and brushed shoulders with death.
The majority of the people in the clan knew a thing or two about battle, and they knew death shaped people.
After surviving another assassination attempt, they couldn't help but wonder what Jules had been shaped into.
Jules kept an emotionless expression as he walked, busying himself with plans in his head.
Soon, he was led to the building where he stayed with his mother and sister.
Upon reaching his room, the five members of the Leviathan Squad remained stationed around the building.
As Jules sat on his bed, someone barged into the room.
A woman–looking younger than her age, with orange hair tied into a ponytail and bright golden eyes–ran to Jules, knelt, and hugged him.
This was Jules's mother, Cattleya.
"Dear?" she said, worried. The corner of her eyes had a trail of tears and her eyes looked puffy.
Hugging Jules tightly, she began to speak through her tears: "Are you okay? Is there any problem?"
Jules, who had always struggled with mother-son relationships, was stunned.
His lips curled down as he brought his hands around Cattleya and hugged her back.
"I'm fine… Mother. Everything you gave me really helped."
Cattleya cried, the sound of her wails sounding throughout the room.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," She kept on saying. "If only I had been better."
Jules listened to her, emotions he wasn't familiar with rising within him.
No—he was.
Recalling the memory induced by the Heart, he remembered feeling similar.
The warrior had wanted to see his family in the last moments of his life.
When Jules began to believe he might die, he too desired to see this woman—the longing to finally have a mother seeping in.
Jules, or rather Dan–all his life–had wanted to be acknowledged like this.
Jules clenched his fists behind his mother as he thought of the wretches who suppressed this woman along with him.
Then, he relaxed and said to her, "It's alright, ma. I'm fine, I assure you."
His mother relaxed, releasing slightly and looked at him.
She saw the warm smile Jules wore—and the loneliness hidden beneath it.
She brought her hand to his face, and said, "Whatever happens, I'm–no, we are here for you."
Now free to look around, Jules saw a short girl at the door. A girl that looked like the child version of his mother.
She stood with indifference, but the way her hand clenched her clothes, her restless legs, and the tears in her eyes only deepened Jules's understanding.
This young fourteen-year-old was Jules's sister, Julie, who died trying to save Jules and her mother in the novel.
Jules flashed Julie a smile before looking at his mother.
"Thank you. Please, I have a request."
His mother raised her brows a bit as she asked, "What's it?"
"Can I have a moment with Captain Freya? Alone?"
Tilting her head a bit, she acquiesced, knowing they had some talks together earlier. "Alright."
Hidden at the door, a sixteen-year-old girl with short blonde hair and blue eyes, came out.
"I-I will go call the captain." Jules's childhood friend said, staring at the floor after making subtle contact with Jules.
Julie added with her childish voice, "I'll follow."
As they left, Cattleya also stood up, cleaning her tears. "I should give you time to rest before you meet her."
Jules nodded with a smile.
Cattleya lingered a bit before leaving. She had thoughts as she left Jules.
She couldn't help but wonder what exactly Jules faced for him to change like this…
Jules, who had only grown worse at pretending to be the original, sighed as he prepared to bathe.
After changing into a shirt and free trousers, he heard a knock.
Was she waiting for me to finish? he mused. That's... kinda creepy.
"Come in."
Opening the door, a woman donning a shirt fitted at her waist and tight trousers walked in.
Resting her back on a wall, Freya, white-haired and dark blue-eyed, scrutinized Jules's state.
"I see you obtained the Artifact…and in a state that doesn't make me see your mother's wrath."
Jules smiled and walked to the table, pulling out Warforged, approximately 100 cm in length, from his bag.
From the end of the room he stood, he extended the black blade across the room, pointing it at Freya.
Looking at it, Freya stated, "I have not seen or heard anything like this. It should be from long ago. I should improve your prowess."
"I believe so too," Jules said as he retracted the sword and sat near his table. "It actually has skills of its own that I'm yet to grasp."
Freya furrowed her brows. "You shouldn't tell people things about yourself and your items."
Jules shrugged. "I know, I know."
Sighing, Freya explained, "Things are worse than expected. If not for you, the situation would have become even worse. At least we have a level of control in the situation now."
In a disdainful tone, she added, "Mark and Joel were secretly moved to a chamber in my Squad base, but since they're the only ones that 'died,' they should know something is up."
Wearing a thoughtful look, Jules chimed in, "We should start preparing our next move. We can't give them time to breathe."
Freya smiled as she complimented, "The plan earlier was actually impressive; I was surprised you did that on your own despite lacking experience."
If we count experiencing fictional experiences, I'm quite experienced. Jules joked inwardly.
"Maybe the Evanavas are born for battle," he replied with a smile.
Freya chuckled, "When your father saw my growth and your elder sister's growth, he said something similar."
Jules tilted his head, "How interesting."
"Anyways, what do you suggest we do next?" Freya asked with an anticipative look.
But when Jules did explain, her face changed to an unsatisfied smile.
"With what strength do you want to carry this out?"
Sitting on his chair, Jules replied, spreading his arms, "With this."
Multiple blue magic circles popped up in the room one by one, until they almost filled all corners.
Freya…felt a weight press against her chest.