"Oh, my beautiful boy! You look so handsome!"

Atticus stood before a full-sized mirror, staring at his reflection. He was dressed in a white robe painted with red flames and adorned with multiple ornaments.

His mother had taught him how to manipulate the elements to form flesh, as all of them could. Atticus had been reluctant, actually liking the menace his burning appearance invoked in others, but after a lengthy discussion about how crude and ugly he looked, he had eventually relented.

Now his skin was porcelain-like, filled with life and vigor. His white hair was neatly combed, and his beard had been erased beneath his mother’s glare. He looked like the sort of person supermodels on Earth would pray to resemble.

As he stared at himself, for once, Atticus couldn’t help but appreciate his appearance.

"So... what do you think?"

Ilyshkara stared at him expectantly. He’d insisted on dressing himself, but after hearing about his ’plans,’ which involved wearing a single robe and a pair of sandals he genuinely believed looked good, his mother had gone silent.

Then she had dragged him away while muttering several words that indirectly called him stupid.

His current remarkable appearance was the result of her dedication.

Atticus smiled.

"I look good."

"Heh! See? What did I tell you?"

She immediately turned toward the Arbiter.

"Look at him. Doesn’t he look adorable?"

"R-right!"

The Arbiter stiffened and looked at him. Their eyes met, and her face instantly scrunched up, as though the words themselves had offended her. Her personality was still very much present.

"He looks perfect, Master! Absolutely perfect."

"Hehe..."

It was a beautiful moment, but Atticus could barely pay attention. After their talk yesterday, his mind had become entirely consumed by something else.

He’d left what remained of his family in the Middle Planes to avoid getting distracted, only to find himself facing an even worse situation here.

Bourn.

What was he supposed to do about him?

His father’s elder brother’s son. His cousin. It was basically another Caldor. His family.

But what was he supposed to do when it was his family standing between him and his goals? Should he hold back? Should he kill?

He didn’t know.

The sharp glint in his mother’s eyes, despite her smile, told him she knew exactly what he was going through.

But she wasn’t going to help him. After all, Ilyshkara wanted him to surrender the fragments. To her, this situation was ideal. To Atticus, not so much.

The click of the door pulled him from his thoughts. He turned and saw his father standing there.

"Son. Come."

Attimax wore a green robe embroidered with countless sigils signifying growth. His towering frame and broad shoulders made him seem less like a man and more like a weapon waiting to be drawn.

Atticus approached him.

"Your hand."

As Atticus stretched out his arm, he frowned while Attimax fastened an ancient-looking watch around his wrist.

"My father gave this to me when I first became a star." His fingers lingered briefly on the watch. "Now it’s yours."

Attimax placed both hands on his shoulders and held his gaze.

"I’m glad you’re home."

Atticus blinked. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected something like this from Attimax at all.

"...Thanks, Dad."

"Alright, that’s enough. If the two of you get any more emotional, I’m leaving."

Ilyshkara cleared her throat loudly, glaring at Attimax like a predator whose prey had just wandered into someone else’s territory.

Attimax merely looked at her and smiled.

"You look beautiful."

Ilyshkara froze. Then, to Atticus’ utter disbelief, a faint flush crept onto her face.

"Oh..." She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and looked away. "You can’t just say things like that without warning."

Atticus stared. This was the same woman who had spent the last few days insulting both him and Attimax with alarming creativity. Yet a single compliment had reduced her to this.

Ilyshkara seemed to notice his look. She immediately coughed into her fist and turned toward the door.

"We’ll be late. Let’s go."

Atticus exchanged a glance with Attimax. They both shrugged at the exact same time before following behind.

The Arbiter stared at both of them, bewildered.

"...It’s actually unsettling."

...

Today was the grand banquet organized by his parents to introduce him to the world. From every vestige of Rion Sanctum, the heads of countless influential houses were in attendance and had come to see the famed son of God of Man return.

"God of Man, Attimax Ravenstein. Supreme Elemental Arbiter, Ilyshkara Ravenstein. Crown Prince of Man, Atticus Ravenstein."

Atticus walked into the banquet hall with his father and mother at either side. Soft golden lights. Classical music. Droves upon droves of eyes fixed upon him. People he’d never met before. People he probably wouldn’t ever care about. Strangers judged him.

Each of them stars. Their gazes swept over him openly, carrying the weight of countless eons and unimaginable power. They stared without hesitation, without restraint, at the son of Attimax Ravenstein.

At the Prince of Man; Atticus Ravenstein.

Yet their eyes did nothing to break his stride. His movements seemed to fall naturally into rhythm with those of his parents. Every step was taken as one. Together they advanced like a moving mountain. Unshaken. Absolute.

The hall found itself drawn into the sight. Conversations quieted. Eyes lingered. People watched as the three figures crossed the banquet floor, unable to look away.

Soon, after a mixture of curt nods and warm greetings, Attimax and Ilyshkara left him to converse with the various leaders. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

For someone of his standing, it was important that he appear independent if he wished to garner respect. Ilyshkara had drilled their politics into him.

It wasn’t long before people began approaching him.

"Prince of Man. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard great things about your exploits..."

Atticus was many things, unfortunately, a talker was not one of them. He answered every question bluntly, with concise responses, then simply stared without asking any questions of his own. The result was that most conversations died almost immediately, much to Atticus’ delight.

While a few stubborn lords lingered, fewer and fewer people approached him as word spread throughout the hall.

Though Ilyshkara was engaged in several conversations at once, part of her attention remained fixed on her son.

She couldn’t help but sigh. Atticus was definitely his father’s son. After all, she could still remember the painstaking effort she’d had to put into getting Attimax where he was today.

’That’s right... where is he?’

Her eyes wandered across the hall and halted on the sight of her freakishly tall husband leaning against a wall, arms folded across his chest. The cold, intimidating aura surrounding him had carved out an empty circle in the crowd. Not a single lord seemed willing to approach.

’This man...!’

Ilyshkara gritted her teeth.

"...Is something wrong, my lady?"

She immediately smoothed her expression and smiled.

"No, it’s nothing."

But her gaze kept drifting back toward Attimax, and, to her growing irritation, Atticus. He had somehow ended up doing the exact same thing, standing against a wall with a similarly unapproachable expression.

They truly were father and son.