Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 273: Delightful Experiences

Eastiel, Oathran, and Arkai had actually discussed more things between themselves after Cecilia left.

They hadn’t had the chance to tell her yet, that they had all arrived back in this world at different points of time. From the Edengold’s war tent, where they had met Emra Mero... to this fake world.

Arkai had arrived the same morning as Cecilia. The first day of the new semester. He had woken in his dorm room, dressed in his uniform, and walked to the female dorm area.

Oathran and Eastiel’s returns had been different.

Oathran had arrived the day after his dorm sexual encounter with Cecilia... that tiptoeing night in the fabricated world that still lingered in his memory. He had woken in his dorm room, the morning light filtering through curtains, and a knock at his door.

Lazuardi had been standing there, his face unreadable.

"You’re suspended from attending classes until further notice."

The official reason was because he had beaten Arzhen Vasiliev to a pulp. That was true enough. The hallways still whispered about it, the students still flinched when he walked by.

But the subtler reason... well, the real reason was to protect him.

His disappearance from memory, even for just those few hours, had left its mark. Everyone remembered forgetting him. The blank space in their minds, the missing piece that had suddenly snapped back into place. His existence had become a question.

What was he? What had happened to him? What has happened to the world?

So they had put him into closed-door training. Which was, as it sounded, closed-door training. Though its purpose doubled as a way for Lazuardi, Jenggala, Serayu, and Baswara to monitor him. To check whether he was actually stable. In power. In existence.

What if his ’chosen one’ power rampaged for whatever reason? What if he disappeared again? What if they lost their memory of him again?

"No!" Baswara had snapped at him when he protested, his voice cracking. "You stay here. Think of what you did wrong. Think carefully, Oathran Alicei."

Oathran had been deeply confused, until Baswara suddenly hugged him, his old arms trembling, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him.

"Because you did nothing wrong." The words were fierce. "Nothing wrong. None at all. Just stay. Stay here for a while."

Everyone was scared and traumatized.

So, he was locked in a room where no one could reach him. Where no one could take him away.

Of course, Oathran had negotiated. He had promised he wouldn’t leave Baswara’s house, and asked to return to his normal room. He had asked for magical theories to study, to pass the time while everyone calmed themselves.

And he had learned. Devoured knowledge the real world didn’t have, or wasn’t advanced enough to have. Well, his own body in this world did remember this world’s basic teachings and all, and by extension, knowledge etched into his own brain... but he wanted more.

Even for a dragon who had lived four hundred years, it was revolutionary.

The gods who had created this world for Cecilia... such an incredible world. Such detail.

Fascinating.

So this could be a world where he existed. Where he could be himself. Where he didn’t need to die, or sacrifice himself.

A world where everyone he loved wouldn’t need to be sad.

When the semester started, Oathran was finally allowed to return to school. He had reunited with his brothers and Cecilia.

Like him, Eastiel had entered this world at a vastly different point in time.

The day after his school corridor sexual encounter with Cecilia, the one that still made his ears burn when he thought about it, which was often, he had received a notification. His family’s magic initiation would begin, and he must participate. Without fail.

Elias, his younger brother, was called back with him. They traveled south together, to the sun-baked lands where the Edengold Family had ruled for generations. To their family’s residence. To their home.

And then—Eastiel saw his father.

The man who had died in the real world. Who had left too early, who had left him too early, who had been a ghost haunting every decision Eastiel had made since—

Eliam Edengold stood in the main hall, tall and golden, his straight long blonde hair catching the light, his smile warm and alive.

Eastiel froze.

The world stopped. The sounds of the household, servants moving, Elias chattering beside him, the distant clash of training in the courtyards, all of it faded to nothing. There was only his father. Alive.

He didn’t think about the looks on everyone’s faces when he leapt.

Didn’t care about the raised eyebrows, the surprised laughter that followed. He crossed the room in three strides and threw his arms around Eliam Edengold, holding him hard, pressing his face into his father’s shoulder like he was a child again.

"Father!"

In the real world, Eliam had been young when he suffered his war injury. A wound that had never fully healed, that had sapped his strength, that had made him less than he should have been. But even then, even broken, he had been a lion everyone feared. Respected. Loved.

More respected than feared.

Eastiel was more talented than his father. Everyone knew it. He was stronger, faster, greater in every measurable way. But Eliam had been great too. Greater than his peers, greater than his enemies, greater than the war that had tried to break him.

Arkai had been right, at the funeral, when he had said Eliam was a much better king than August had ever been.

Standing in his father’s arms, Eastiel made a decision.

He would make their military stronger.

He knew this world was just a fabrication. A construct built by gods for their own amusement, or perhaps for some purpose he couldn’t fathom.

But it was also a world where his father was alive. Where he could see him, talk to him, fight beside him. Where he could prevent the injury that had crippled him in the real world.

So he threw himself into the initiation. And then he threw himself into the military. He trained them until they broke, and then he trained them more. He pushed them past their limits, past their pain, past everything they thought they were capable of.

He would make them strong enough to protect his father. To protect his family. To protect this world, even if it wasn’t real.

Oh, he also got Cecilia’s SOS, the frantic message about needing money for the teleportation gates, and sent it without hesitation. Though he was too busy to go back to the Athenaeum himself. He wondered, sometimes, which brother’s turn it was for whatever scenario was playing out.

He just couldn’t wait to spend more time with Eliam. And Harriet. And Elias.

Especially Eliam.

When the Magic Conference was announced, the one that would take place over Winter Break, Eastiel had hoped to attend. But Harriet sent him south instead. A mission to collect artifacts and medicinal herbs, important for the family, necessary.

He went.

Of course he went. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

It was an important mission. And besides, he could go with Eliam. He would kill that opportunity.

They traveled together, father and son. They talked. They laughed. They existed in the same space, breathing the same air, sharing the same moments.

Eastiel was happy.

Too happy.

But also sad.

Too sad.

Because this was just a fake world. A beautiful, detailed, perfect fake world, where his father was alive and well, where his mother smiled at him over breakfast, where his brother looked up to him with something that wasn’t grief.

But it wasn’t real.

None of it was real.

But hey—a win was a win.

"Uuuuh, Father." Eastiel spoke first, breaking the ice as the six of them stood in that ruined training ground. His voice was carefully casual, deliberately light. "Don’t worry about it. We’re just sparring."

"SPARRING WHAT?" Eliam’s voice cracked. "WHERE?" He threw his hands up, gesturing wildly at the smoking craters, the cracked stone, the lingering arcs of lightning still dancing across what remained of the training ground’s walls. "YOU JUST REVOLUTIONALIZED MAGIC, MY SON!" His golden eyes were wild. "I DIDN’T KNOW YOU COULD DO THAT? "

"SOUND MAGIC WHAT?" August’s hand clamped down on Arkai’s shoulder, his fingers digging in, his face a mask of shock and something that might have been pride if it weren’t so utterly horrified. "WHEN DID YOU LEARN IT? HOW? AREN’T WE FORCE MAGES?"

Arkai’s jaw worked. "Father—"

"SOUND MAGIC IS A UNIQUE AFFINITY!" August’s voice rose. "IT’S NOT IN OUR MAGIC BLOODLINE!"

"I—"

"HOW?"

Well, they just combined what their affinity was in the real world and this world’s magic, so...

Baswara had both hands on Oathran’s face, squishing his cheeks together, his old eyes enormous. His beard trembled. His voice was a hoarse whisper, almost reverent.

"How did you do that?" His fingers pressed harder. "How did you do that?"

Oathran’s voice came out muffled. "Professor—"

"MULTIPLE ELEMENTAL MANIPULATION!" Baswara’s voice cracked. "PRECISION CASTING! TERRAIN MANIPULATION! MIST FORMATION??? FLAME PILLARS! YOU WERE FLYING! YOU WERE CONTROLLING THE AIR DENSITY! THE HUMIDITY! THE—THE—" He ran out of words, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Professor, I can explain—"

"HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!"

In the center of the chaos, Eastiel, Oathran, and Arkai exchanged glances. Their fathers were losing their minds.

This was going to be a long night.