Chapter 4 - Departure [2] - The Cardinal Sky

"This place is ridiculously huge…" I said out loud.

In front of me was a building that extended beyond the sky, all of which belonged to my father.

…You know, I wasn't that rich of a person in my past life, so this much was a shock.

I focused on doing what I wanted to do instead of going for a high-paying job. It was rough at first, but conditions became bearable as time passed by.

Flash forward to today, it was nauseating when I was offered luxuries like it was toilet paper when these ‘luxuries’ could be my entire monthly wage.

It took a long time to get used to it… all it took was giving up common sense when it comes to money.

Now that I’m running away, I think I need it back sooner or later.

"Lord Kuro? What brings you here?" A voice I seemed to recall resounded from a speaker.

Entering my father’s workplace, I was greeted by an accountant who looked too flashy to be one.

"I'm… I’m here to visit my father." I replied, trying to figure out who she was.

"Understood. Right this way, Lord Kuro." The accountant stood up from her counter and guided me to the elevator.

It didn’t take too long for us to garner attention. The only male heir of the Historia family, appearing in person to greet their father. It would invoke tons of rumors, that’s for sure.

‘It’s a surprise how such a massive place still has so many people going around even until today.’

Gael Historia is currently one of the nation’s leaders, but before that, he used to operate a guild during the war against monsters.

Although the world is steadying towards peace, he picked trustworthy allies and created his own personal henchmen for those who remained.

Admiring their loyalty toward my father, I set these thoughts aside and stepped into the elevator with the accountant.

—Ding!

The elevator door closed, and we rapidly ascended. As expected of an advanced civilization, incomparable with Earth, it didn’t feel like we were going up at all.

Hmm… hmm? Wait, hold on… looking a bit closely, this accountant does look familiar to me now.

Red-orange hair, teardrop earrings, glasses that ‘act’ as her disguise, and a mole below her orange eyes…

These avant-garde details were a glaring hint I somehow failed to notice.

I felt stupid when I wrote this novel myself. I didn’t even remember what they looked like.

‘Ah… now I remember.’

The woman who guided me to Gael’s office is his personal assistant and the one who recommended the protagonist to be trained under him.

Her name is Scarlett Penelope, a specialist in wielding fire magic, or more specifically, the infamous Explosion Magic Art.

Scarlett’s alias during the war was the Ashen Witch, a formidable warmonger who led the frontlines.

Before anyone is gonna ask, the reason why this world has a diverse hair color system is purely because of, you guessed it right—the magic attribute you chose or were born with.

Magic is diverse in many forms; it all depends on your desired form of magic.

Some are easy to learn, some are impossible to learn.

However, when deciding what magic you'll specialize in, you cannot turn back.

Yes, you can still use different elements of magic even if you specialized in a field, but not as efficiently as before.

The moment you decide on what Magic Art you favor, a ritual must be done, supervised by professionals to strengthen the mana core in exchange for the other path lines to close.

This wasn't the only reason why this practice was developed.

Unable to do the following before the age of 6 results in severe consequences. They will be unable to wield magic, permanently.

Studies showed that it's impossible to use magic if the ritual is neglected. Further research into such matters is considered taboo due to glaring issues.

This practice was reinforced as a necessary act centuries ago after the first world war against monsters ended.

It was at this moment when people gradually lost their mana core's stability, which was stored in their hearts.

In truth, the ritual was the true culprit, a flawed and malicious method to dwindle the numbers of magicians, closing mana pathways as well as the pathlines that support regenerating mana.

Generations after generations, the mana core would be closed off bit by bit, making it impossible to fully open all of them without forcing the other pathlines to close.

…Now, how come I used a diverse amount of magic at the start despite this strict restriction on magic?

Usually, people would find themselves losing their magic capability if they didn't do the ritual around the age of 6.

I was found in the rubble alongside my mother at the age of 7.

So I'm devoid of magic. A failure of the Historia family, to be exact. That's how people perceived me.

It’s the main reason why I'm regarded as weak by many, even my family thinks so.

Of course, despite the mana core being permanently inaccessible at this point, it's still passively accumulating mana.

The good thing about this is that you are healthier than an average person since it helps circulate your body more efficiently.

Think of a closed mana core as an extra immunity system that supports the body. The bad news is that they could achieve better results if they followed the ritual in the end.

So yeah, I guess using magic in this nation is held by strict constraints by every means.

A high-risk, high-reward method.

Of course, other nations in this world operate differently, but they are too different to mention today.

In this country, everyone is capable of using magic, thankfully. It is called the nation of magic after all.

The only issue was if they aren't able to do the ritual at the age of 6, then it’s game over.

—But there's a certain loophole around it.

Why do I know? I'm the author after all.

It was pretty easy to forcefully open it… I think.

All it took was a direct confrontation against a magic blast from a rune I bought back then with my pocket money.

It was… expensive. One low-level magic rune costs me my whole savings for a year.

Even so, low-level runes still had tenfold the mana a child would have, so it was more than enough.

The method was injecting myself with enough magic power while my mana core went berserk— for the ceremonial ritual, they stabilize it rather than whatever this is.

This is because something blocks the pathlines from traveling across the body.

It’s hard to explain it in words, but imagine a black, sticky mucus clogging the blood flow due to a ritual that has accumulated over centuries onto their descendants.

The only TRUE way to remove the mucus was to overflow it with magic. It’s like getting rid of mud inside a hose with a strong water current.

This would force the blockage of the pathlines to open, perfectly stabilizing the mana core.

No one has ever thought of this unless you’re suicidal due to how stupid this sounds, especially when I was 6 years old.

…Fortunately, death wasn’t the outcome, but extreme pain would follow during the process.

In the novel, I wrote, “He felt so much pain it’s as if his heart was gonna explode multiple times over.” When the protagonist experienced this at the same age as me.

That over-exaggeration indeed came to life, and I was… uh, hospitalized for a month.

I could’ve just asked someone to inject their mana into me. But at the same time, I lived with my mother alone back then.

I didn’t have the connections to meet someone with mana and asking my mother was a no-go because I was born clueless about my bloodline.

I didn’t even know I was related to the Historia family in the first place.

In summary, the mana core turns unstable at the age of 6.

With support, you can use one magic under a certain field.

Without support, you’re unable to wield magic.

The effectiveness of the ritual increases the specified magic’s effectiveness by 70%, but the potential decreases by a certain amount.

Another variable is forcefully opening the mana core's pathlines until the brink of death.

This method allows the user to learn every Magic Art but start slower than others. It works, but it was an experience I never want to go through ever again.

—Ding!

‘Ah, looks like we’re already here.’ I snapped back to reality and made myself look better by tidying my clothes.

We made it to the last floor of the building, and clouds were already hovering below us.

This floor had an insanely massive workspace coated in gold to showcase his massive wealth, making the office look too overbearing.

The glass ceiling allows you to see the stars, illuminating the office. Furniture and objects were displayed on shelves, each telling a story remembered by only him.

And lastly, a lone table stood out at the far end, revealing a man who stood out like a sore thumb in this already appealing place.

It was the desk of my father, Gael Historia, who was waiting for me this whole time.

“Then, if you may excuse me, I wish you best regards, Lord Kuro.” Scarlett lowered her head and stayed in the elevator.

“Alright, thanks for the help.” I smiled and waved my hand.

For some reason, my response surprised her. But before she took a closer look at my face, the elevator closed before she could do so.

‘Haaah… this is my only chance.' I took a deep breath and resolved myself for a bit.

Each step into his office felt like stepping into a monster’s lair.

I walked past the office the size of a tennis court to meet my father, who was doing paperwork.

—Scribble Scribble…

“…” Gael remained silent; his pen was the only thing I could hear in this unbearable silence.

'Hmm…?' I looked at him for a few more seconds.

‘…Is it me, or does he not know that someone is here?’ My eyes twitched a little bit.

Is he acting clueless? Or am I just invisible or something…?

Before I made a fool of myself, I bit the bullet and introduced myself.

“Greetings, Father. It’s me, your son, Kuro Historia.” I spoke first.

—Scribble… Zzzt!

“…Hmm.” He stopped writing and placed his pen on the table.

'…Gulp.' I swallowed my saliva. What stood before me was one of the strongest humans on this planet.

The Iron Titan. One Man Army. The descendant of Garden the Great, and the one who stood beside the Hero of Demiurge until the end.

He was someone worthy of the current title, “The Strongest of the Nation”. The one who lived to tell the tales against the war with monsters.

If my sisters were extremely beautiful, then the genes definitely came from him.

Gael has gray hair, yellow eyes, a muscular build and a scar passing through his left cheek to his right cheek.

“Kuro.” He simply called me by my name, a voice intimidating enough to startle me.

—Vooom…!

"What the…! Kgh...!" I grunted in pain.

The mana pressure alone made me want to run away as far as possible. If I were to do so now… my chances of leaving this suffocating place would be zero.

I didn’t write it off as obvious, but deep down, Gael truly loves his daughters at heart.

So, what about me? That… I don’t know. My existence itself is a variable anyway, someone who isn’t supposed to exist.

Questions kept piling up the more I lived my life as Kuro Historia, and were never answered. It was so frustrating that it felt like peeling my skin with my bloodied nails, wishing for everything to stop.

“Yes… Father.” I said, showing no weakness to the pressure he emitted by biting my lips to stay conscious.

…

A moment of silence again passed by. His yellow eyes this time were focused on me, evaluating my very soul.

"…"

After a few minutes have passed. Gael’s peerless pressure subsided, and he uttered something beyond my expectations.

"…So you already figured out the truth.” His tone of voice this time wasn’t intimidating, but a glimmer of sadness.

…

…Huh, what?

“What?” My inner thoughts blurred out.

“I understand… Tonight, I will come home for dinner.” He ended the conversation, stood up, put on his coat, and headed to the elevator.

“W-Wait! I have something else to say besides that-”

“What is it?” Gael cut me off and stopped walking.

I almost yelped from sheer intimidation, but I held it in and kept quiet to not cause any more problems.

“…If it’s something important, then tell me what it is during dinner.”

“O-Oh… yes, father.” I nodded my head.

Did he just… leave…? Just like that? What the hell does he mean by the truth?

After I shaved years off my lifespan. I stood there in the same spot, frozen in front of the table Gael worked on.

All my resolve was distinguished in an instant, just like that.

‘Ahaha… haha… I-It’s fine, I still have time during dinner.’ I coped by thinking I succeeded.

For now, at least, I still have a few hours.

Damn.

=======

“It seems that I can no longer hide the truth from them.” The man pondered inside the elevator.

Gael, the head of the Historia family, has an immeasurable amount of responsibilities that one could not even imagine.

It is only today that he set those responsibilities aside and focused on a more important matter.

And that is family.

“I have no choice but to reveal it during dinner.” He closed his eyes, deep in thought.

Even if he was burdened by many responsibilities. Gael makes time for his children at least once a week.

If he can’t even make time for his children, then he doesn’t deserve to be called a father.

“Kuro.” He muttered his name.

He began to think about his only son in the family, Kuro.

Even he thinks that Kuro is a mysterious person.

He never tried to understand Kuro, who deliberately showed themselves as weak. Unbefitting of the name Historia.

But after further consideration, it was inevitable.

When he found him alongside his mother, he no longer held a mana core, making him a normal person compared to his siblings. Gael could understand if Kuro had seething jealousy towards his sisters.

But he didn’t even have an ounce of envy in his face, as if it was something else entirely different.

“…Hmm.”

—Ding!

The elevator opened, and he prepared to go outside.

“Lord Historia, where are you planning to go?” Scarlett asked Gael while she was at the reception.

“To celebrate my daughters' graduation.” He set his thoughts aside and decided to visit his daughters on such a special day.

“Understood. Have a nice trip, Lord Historia.” She nodded her head and went back to her post.

Gael went outside the building, and a limo was already waiting for him.

“Where do you wish to go, Lord Historia?”

“To my daughters.”

“Understood, sir.”

The driver opened the car door for him and accepted his gesture.