Zephyrion thought he’d heard wrong.

"...What?"

"You heard me." Garrick glanced at Lumi. "You can’t see it, but there’s a whole mess of runes coming out of her throat. They’re doing something to her and causing this shit."

Zephyrion was speechless. An heir? Of all the things in the world, it was the last thing he expected.

Mostly because, to become an heir, one first had to find and bond with an inheritance. In all their years together, no such thing had ever happened.

He glanced at her. Her throat...

Was it related to her past?

In that case, why was it happening now?

Garrick seemed to read his thoughts and nodded knowingly.

"There are some inheritances that need their host to hit certain requirements before they wake up. Honestly, who the hell knows? The old monsters that make these things aren’t exactly fond of leaving instructions behind. Did she advance recently?"

Zephyrion fell silent. Lumi had recently advanced to Mark Five, a remarkable achievement considering how long ago she had begun training. He could still remember her hopping around excitedly as she announced it.

Garrick’s theory made sense.

What if whatever had been placed in her throat had been waiting all along for her to reach Mark Five? His eyes widened and he turned toward Garrick.

"What changes is it making to her?"

"No clue." Garrick shrugged. "Whatever it is, it seems focused around her throat."

Garrick appeared to notice Zephyrion’s concern and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"But honestly, I wouldn’t lose sleep over it. Sure, crazy old bastards leave inheritances behind, but they usually do it because they want a successor. Hard to pass down your legacy if you kill the poor idiot inheriting it, right? You get what I mean?"

Zephyrion understood. At the end of the day, they wanted someone to carry on their legacy so they wouldn’t be forgotten. In that case, Lumi was probably undergoing a process that would fully turn her into an heir.

But behind the gentle tone and easy smile, Garrick was simply trying to make him feel better. Zephyrion had spent far too long in the outside world to believe any of that bullshit.

They searched for people to inherit their legacies, yes. But they were also prideful and notoriously selective. Most of them, when their heirs failed to meet their standards, abandoned them without hesitation.

Unfortunately, there was usually no way to sever the bond. Which often ended with the host’s death.

If Lumi failed to meet this old monster’s expectations, Zephyrion could only expect the worst. And there was nothing he could do about it.

Zephyrion gave Garrick an absentminded nod, prompting a helpless smile from the man.

Lumi began stirring in his arms.

After thanking his uncle, he headed back to the mansion. By the time they arrived, Lumi had already woken up. She blinked up at him, looking thoroughly confused.

He set her down and explained everything that had happened, along with what Garrick had discovered. By the end, Lumi somehow looked even more confused than he had.

She walked over to a mirror, panicked, and touched her throat. Then she opened her mouth as wide as possible, apparently attempting to peer down it.

Zephyrion ignored her antics.

"Can you remember anything about..." He pointed at his throat. "That."

Unlike himself, he was trying to be careful. She had been eight years old when she awakened and lost her voice. He could only imagine what horrors she had endured.

Yet contrary to his expectations, Lumi merely shrugged. She began signing quickly, describing everything with alarming clarity.

Apparently, she had been held down by several adults while molten liquid metal was poured down her throat. She had passed out almost immediately from the pain. Anything that happened afterward was unknown.

By the time she finished, Zephyrion realized the real reason he had been so careful. Partly, it was because of her.

But it was also because of himself.

His vision swam for a moment. Rage surged through him with enough force to leave his hands trembling.

Lumi noticed immediately and panicked, signing frantically as she asked whether she had done something wrong.

Zephyrion exhaled slowly through his nose and forced the anger back down.

He shook his head.

"My fingers were stiff. I cracked them."

Lumi stared at him, unconvinced. But Zephyrion’s face had already settled back into its usual cold mask.

Eventually, she let it go. She came to sit beside him, looking dejected. Zephyrion felt the urge to embrace her. He crushed it.

Instead, he spoke in an unusually soft tone.

"It’ll be fine. Inheritors look for people to carry on their legacy, not people to kill. This is ultimately a good thing, to be honest. When it’s over, you’ll probably end up stronger because of it." He paused briefly. "That’s what you wanted, right?"

Zephyrion felt disgusted with himself. He was basically repeating everything Garrick had said. Repeating the lies.

Then Lumi’s eyes lit up almost instantly. She signed that he had a point. A moment later, she was already back on her feet, smiling as though the conversation had never happened.

Zephyrion felt everything else fade the moment he saw that smile.

For the next few minutes, Lumi paced around the room with a toothy grin, flexing her arms and proudly declaring that one day she would become a superwoman who crushed all their enemies and protected him.

Eventually, she exhausted herself and fell asleep not long afterward.

Zephyrion lay on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while her soft snores drifted through the room, strangely melodic to his ears.

That night, he didn’t sleep.

...

"This will be our last meeting."

The words brought about two very different reactions.

Zephyrion remained indifferent. Ingrid’s eyes widened slightly.

Several more weeks had passed, and they had made significant progress with Titan Armor. The armor had fully fused with their bodies, and the number of properties they had added was considerable. More than that, they had even managed to create a few Titan Forms.

"Last meeting, fath—" Ingrid caught herself. "Lord Calderalth?" She frowned. "How? We’re not done yet."

Kastor’s face remained expressionless.

"The academy begins next week. There’s no helping it."

"Ah..."

Ingrid’s fingers curled slightly before she silently nodded. Zephyrion could sense her dissatisfaction, yet he couldn’t understand it. Why would she care whether they trained with him or not? This man did not deserve such regard.

He inclined his head respectfully and spoke in a monotone voice.

"I understand, Lord Calderalth."

The longer he spent around Kastor, the harder it became to think of him as his father. His title was the only thing that would leave Zephyrion’s mouth.

Unfortunately, neither of them noticed the trace of sadness that passed through Kastor’s gaze. By the time they raised their heads, it was gone.

"We will take our leave now."

"But." They froze as Kastor continued.

"The training is not over. Once every two weeks, you will contact me from the academy. Report your progress and ask any questions you may have."

"Yes!" Ingrid answered almost immediately before coughing into her fist. "I mean... understood, Lord Calderalth."

Meanwhile, Zephyrion searched Kastor’s face. Why? It made no sense. They had already learned everything he could teach them. The rest depended on their own skill, imagination, and talent.

Yet Kastor’s face revealed nothing. Zephyrion frowned and bowed his head alongside Ingrid.

"Yes, Lord Calderalth."

As they left, Zephyrion tried not to let his irritation show. The thought of having to see his father regularly, especially when he gained nothing from it, rubbed him the wrong way.

It made it seem as though they actually had a father-son relationship.

They didn’t.

’Wait... this could be useful.’

After calming himself, he began considering the advantages. Their continued meetings would give him more opportunities to interact with Kastor. It had always been difficult to determine what went through the man’s head.

This might be his chance to change that.

Slowly, Zephyrion felt his irritation fade. By the time they stepped outside, the pale silver moon had risen high overhead.

Ingrid seemed to have already shaken off her earlier mood. She turned toward him.

"So... I guess this is it, huh? Last meeting."

"...It is."

She stared at him for a moment. For an instant, Zephyrion thought he caught a trace of sadness in her eyes.

"Well..." Ingrid cleared her throat. "If you ever get stuck during training, or you’re confused about something, don’t hesitate to ask me."

She paused before speaking more quietly.

"You’ve got my signal, right?"

Signal was the term used for communication relics. Each relic possessed a unique signal. By knowing it, people could connect and communicate with one another.

Zephyrion shook his head.

"I don’t."

"Oh." Ingrid immediately straightened. "Then you’ll need it."

She formed a metal plate and scribbled a series of runes across its surface before handing it to him.

"It doesn’t have to be about Titan Armor either. If you need help with something, you can call. Only if you want to, of course." She flicked her hair back. "I’ll probably be too busy to answer anyway. But call anyway."

Zephyrion stared at the plate, then at Ingrid, then back at the plate. Finally, he nodded.

"...Alright."

"Good. Good."

Ingrid nodded as well, still staring at him. A small smile slowly began forming on her face, then she seemed to realize it. The smile vanished instantly.

She cleared her throat, shooting him a glare that practically demanded he forget he had seen anything. Zephyrion wisely chose to remain silent.

"Well then..." She turned as though to leave when Zephyrion suddenly spoke.

"I have a question."

"Hm? What?"

"Fat—Lord Calderalth said we should call him from the academy."

Ingrid stiffened. Zephyrion caught it, but continued.

"The both of us. Why?"

"Ah..." Ingrid waved a hand. "Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing."

"...What does that mean?"

"It means don’t worry about it."

Before he could ask another question, she turned and hurried away. Zephyrion watched her retreating figure, his frown deepening with every passing second.

Then, he sighed.

Somehow, he didn’t hate this.