Eliana reclined on her beach bed, dark glasses shading her eyes, a bikini catching the sun. She pushed her glasses down slightly when she noticed Valerius, his body locked in place by Eryndor’s will.

  “Eryndor, what are you doing?” Valerius snarled, straining against invisible bonds. “Let me go!”

  Eryndor calmly folded his newspaper, set it aside, and rose to his feet. His shadow fell over Valerius as he approached.

  “I will not,” he said coolly. He stopped just in front of him, looking down with unflinching authority. “If you do not compose yourself, I shall not release you.”

  Valerius growled, glaring. “But look at her! That guy’s all over Ziraiah!”

  “Yes,” Eryndor replied evenly. “I am well apprised. And listen with precision, Valerius—I shall not permit you to reprise your prior indiscretions. Ziraiah has consciously elected to allocate her time to that fellow. It was her prerogative, and as yet he has committed no tangible harm.”

  His eyes sharpened. “Mother may not be present to administer discipline… but I am. Should you so much as lay a hand upon that fellow—” Eryndor inclined forward, lowering his gaze until emerald met emerald, his breath cold as tempered iron. “—you will answer directly to me.”

  From their lounge chairs, Eliana and Maloi watched intently. Maloi shifted uncomfortably. “They look like they’re about to fight.”

  Eliana’s brow furrowed. “They’d better not. There are too many people here.”

  Eryndor’s voice grew harder. “Am I understood, Valerius?”

  Valerius glared back, unyielding. “What makes you think I can’t break free from this?”

  Eryndor smirked, still bent close. “Oh? Are you challenging me?”

  Then—his aura erupted.

  A wave of raw mana blasted across the beach. Sand tore from the ground. Parasols ripped from the earth and tumbled down the shoreline. People screamed and scattered, shielding their eyes from the gale.

  Alvin’s eyes bulged in disbelief. His heart hammered as the crushing presence pressed against him. What… what is this? Is this Eryndor’s mana? That’s impossible. How can one man have so much…?

  Out in the surf, Ziraiah froze. “Oh no…”

  Beside her, David’s face drained of color. “My god… is that Eryndor? That mana—it's overwhelming.”

  David stumbled back, his chest heaving. He’d fought in duels, fought beasts. But never—never anything like this. “Did… did someone offend him? Who—who is that?”

  Ziraiah rolled her eyes, though tension knotted her jaw. “That’s… my other brother.”

  Steven blinked, stunned. “You have another brother?”

  Valerius stood locked in the center of the storm, unflinching beneath the crushing weight. His emerald eyes burned defiantly.

  On the shore, Victoria and Sierra could only stare, their mouths open. They had never once seen Eryndor release his mana. Ziraiah had warned them of his strength—but warnings were pale shadows compared to reality.

  The non-Gifted fled in panic, unable to sense the mana directly but terrified by the wind and pressure.

  Eryndor’s gaze sharpened. “It appears that even after three years, your obstinacy endures as your most conspicuous and unyielding trait.”

  Valerius spat through clenched teeth. “How can you just sit there and watch?”

  “Because Ziraiah is entitled to her own volition,” Eryndor replied coldly. “We, as her elder brothers, are tasked to guide her—not to devolve into impediments she must struggle to surmount. She is well aware there are boundaries she must not transgress.”

  Valerius’s muscles twitched, cracks forming in the invisible hold. An arm broke free. Then a leg.

  Eryndor’s smirk hardened into steel. “Do not delude yourself into believing I am incapable of disciplining you. Your physical might may have outstripped mine, yet there exist innumerable methods by which I can subjugate you. Compose yourself, Valerius.”

  From beneath his parasol, Pungence sat up, placed his legs on the sand, forearms resting on his thighs. His deep voice cut through the roaring wind.

  “That’s enough. Conceal your mana, Eryndor. You’re making the people uncomfortable.”

  Around him, Andrea’s gaze flicked sharply, while Ria’s eyes widened. “He already has that much mana… I seriously have no words.”

  On Zeliona’s chest, little Zelion began to cry, his tiny body trembling under the storm.

  Eryndor blinked. His eyes softened as he straightened, pulling back the crushing wave of mana. The air stilled, umbrellas toppled in the sand. He looked around at the shaken beachgoers and gave a curt bow of his head.

  “My apologies.”

  Andrea turned sharply toward Zeliona, alarm rising in her voice. “He’s crying… did he really sense it?”

  Ria’s face paled. “That can’t be. He’s just two years old.”

  But then—wind stirred around the child. A faint glow shimmered, light blooming softly against Zelion’s tiny frame.

  Every head turned toward him.

  Juval rose slowly from his beach bed, his gaze locked on the glowing infant in Zeliona’s arms. Around him, Pungence, Eliana, and Maloi stood as well, each transfixed by the sight. Even Sultan — “Mr. Baby” — wandered closer, his ever-mocking grin fading into stunned disbelief.

  Zelion’s small body shone with radiant light. Vitalis surged visibly into him, streams of energy flowing from the air itself into his tiny frame.

  Ziraiah’s jaw dropped. “No way…”

  Eryndor stepped forward, his emerald eyes narrowing in rare astonishment. Others followed, drawn toward the child as if by instinct.

  Pungence glanced at Eryndor, then back at the boy. His brow furrowed deeply.

  Eliana whispered, “Did Eryndor’s mana… trigger his core’s awakening?”

  Pungence’s voice was grim. “It can’t be. He’s too young.”

  Andrea folded her arms, her tone sharp. “You’re seeing it with your own eyes, Pungence.”

  Beside Eryndor, Valerius leaned in with his usual bluntness. “Wow. A glowing baby.”

  Isabela and Juvian had stopped their water fight, standing shoulder to shoulder, both staring at the sight with wide eyes.

  Then Juval broke into laughter, pride bursting from his chest. He swept Zelion up into his arms, raising him high for all to see. His voice thundered across the beach.

  “My son has awakened! He is a Gifted One!”

  Ria placed a hand over her heart. “Awakened at one year old… you must be very proud, Your Highness.”

  Pungence threw back his head and laughed loud enough for the sea itself to hear. “Haaaahahahaha! What a boy you have, Juval! The youngest in history to awaken.” His gaze flicked toward Eryndor knowingly. “Though… I believe you had something to do with this.”

  Ziraiah shook her head, half in awe, half in disbelief. “A miracle baby…”

  Ria’s eyes widened as she sensed deeper. “No. Not just Vitalis. He absorbed Eryndor’s mana as well.”

  Everyone turned in shock.

  “…What?” they said in unison.

  Everyone — except Valerius. He frowned and nudged Eryndor. “Uhh… is that a big deal?”

  Eryndor’s eyes gleamed with rare intensity. “Indeed. He did not merely absorb my mana… his body is actively transmuting the Vitalis even now—refining it into a mana uniquely his own, yet inextricably interwoven with mine. Such a phenomenon has never been chronicled. What an extraordinary child.”

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  Valerius scratched the back of his neck. “…Hmmm. Still don’t really know much about mana.”

  Ziraiah shot him a look. “That’s why you should go to school, Val. Not everyone has Vitalis cores. And the ones who do don’t awaken until they’re at least ten or eleven. Once awakened, you absorb Vitalis and consciously refine it into mana. But little Zelion here? He’s doing it naturally, without even realizing. How would he? He can barely speak. He’ll go down in Yilheim’s records as the youngest ever to awaken.”

  The glow slowly faded from Zelion’s tiny frame. Juval lowered him gently back into Zeliona’s arms, her face glowing with quiet pride.

  “This,” Juval declared, “is cause for celebration.”

  Valerius shifted his gaze onto a young man standing close to Ziraiah, sand clinging to his legs. Ziraiah’s hair was still wet, her smile unguarded, and it made Valerius’s jaw tighten like stone.

  “Who the hell is that?”

  Ziraiah crossed her arms without missing a beat. “None of your business, Val.”

  Valerius turned on her. “What do you mean, none of my business? I’m supposed to know who that is!”

  “Says who?” she shot back.

  Before Valerius could answer, the young man approached, extending a hand politely. “Hello. I heard you’re Ziraiah’s brother. I’m David.”

  Valerius glanced at the hand, then at David, then back at the hand. His expression was unreadable.

  In that moment, a voice pressed directly into his mind.

  You had best not shatter his hand, Eryndor warned, his thought slicing through like tempered iron.

  Valerius’s thoughts churned. Even if I wanted to… could I really hold his hand without crushing it? I can’t even hold a glass without breaking it. One wrong flex and…

  His jaw tightened. Fine. I’ll just extend my hand. He can do the shaking.

  Slowly, Valerius lifted his arm. His fingers uncurled stiffly, every motion deliberate, restrained. He offered his hand forward — open, steady, but with no grip of his own.

  “Hello,” he said flatly, his voice low.

  David clasped it with a firm shake, doing all the movement himself. Valerius’s hand remained still, his green eyes fixed unblinkingly on David’s face, offering no strength, no pressure — just the cold edge of his presence.

  Valerius’s eyes flicked sharply at his brother before David releasing his hand. “…Hello.”

  David smiled faintly. “And you are…?”

  Valerius’s voice was curt. “Do you need to know that?”

  Ziraiah’s voice slid into his mind this time, softer but edged. Be nice, Val.

  He glared at her, his patience fraying.

  Then Eryndor’s thought pressed into him once more, calm and deliberate. If you endure his presence, I shall instruct you in the technique I devised for holding glass and other fragile objects with greater celerity.

  Valerius froze. His eyes narrowed at Eryndor — then shifted back to David.

  “…I am Lerius,” he said at last.

  Eryndor placed a steady hand on Valerius’s shoulder. His emerald eyes softened.

  “You have acquitted yourself admirably. Now you may rejoin us.”

  In an instant, Valerius’s travel-worn clothes shimmered and vanished. A pair of simple beach shorts appeared in their place. His chest and shoulders were bare, his frame gleaming in the sunlight.

  Valerius glanced down, tugging at the fabric. “Magic is really handy.”

  “Certainly,” Eryndor replied smoothly. He reclined back on his beach chair, folding open his newspaper once more. “Now, compose yourself. Go and take a swim—indulge in this world for a moment. You do still recall how to swim, do you not?”

  Valerius brushed Eryndor’s hand off his shoulder with a scoff. “Of course I do.”

  He lingered a moment, standing at the foot of his brother’s chair.

  “You say I should swim, yet here you are—reading.”

  Eryndor didn’t look up. “Is that to be construed as a problem?”

  Valerius smirked. “…No. No problem at all.”

  Then, in a sudden blur, he seized Eryndor’s ankle and hurled him toward the sea.

  The crowd gasped—only to see Eryndor stop effortlessly in mid-air, suspended above the waves. His newspaper fluttered in the wind, but his body did not touch the water.

  “Dang…” Valerius muttered, shading his eyes with his hand.

  Eryndor hovered there for a heartbeat before gliding calmly back to shore. He settled once more onto his beach chair, smoothing the paper open again.

  “Tell me, Valerius—when will you finally transcend childishness?”

  Valerius only chuckled and waded into the surf. He dived beneath the waves, letting the sea close over his head.

  At first, there was only the soft rush of currents and the glitter of darting fish. Then—movement. A flash of green, a flick of a tail.

  Valerius’s eyes narrowed. The body was sleek, scaled, the shimmer of a mermaid’s tail vanishing into the deep. He broke the surface, blinking, and saw a pale head of flowing white hair drifting nearby—so human, so hauntingly beautiful.

  He dived again.

  This time, the tail gleamed emerald under the fractured light, her movements fluid, otherworldly. For a moment, their gazes locked through the water. Her face was mesmerizing—delicate, ethereal, yet sharp with challenge.

  Then she turned—and vanished into the depths.

  Valerius grinned, his blood quickening. “So fast…”

  He pushed forward, arms slicing through the water. Each stroke hurled him forward with shockwaves, his speed breaking the sound barrier beneath the waves. Sonic booms rippled through the sea as he pursued her.

  Deeper. Faster. The water around him became a blur.

  But the mermaid was faster still. Her body twisted, fins catching currents like wings. She glanced back, her eyes widening as she saw him gaining. Impossible, she thought. How can an Aurellian swim like this? If he thinks he can outpace me in my domain… he is mistaken.

  She surged ahead, her speed climbing—Mach 500… Mach 800… Mach 1000.

  Valerius strained, every fiber of his body driving him forward. The water boiling around him.But at last, the pressure bore down on him, the drag too great. His speed plateaued—Mach 800, no more.

  He stopped. The mermaid disappeared into the abyss ahead.

  The sea was silent.

  He glanced around. No light. No bottom. He was thousands of kilometers from the shore, 2000 km deep beneath the surface. A crushing weight pressed on every inch of his skin—yet his body easily endured it without falter.

  Closing his eyes, he stretched his senses outward.

  Though the abyss was black, he felt the ocean around him. The faint ripple of fish moving through the water. The outlines of predators lurking in the dark. The vibration of the deep currents, whispering secrets in the silence.

  Valerius smirked faintly.

  …Looks like I’m really slow in water. But to think… mermaids exist here.

  He floated in the vast dark, his green eyes glowing faintly like lanterns in the abyss.

  ---

  To Be Continued...