Chương 7: Chapter 06: Old Tales

I observed the bearded man from behind the neatly cropped hedge fences as the sun beamed overhead. Mum was there with him in the garden, their hands clasped together as though they had known each other for a long time. Well, that had to be true if what Mum explained last night was to make sense. The man was still barefoot, just as when he arrived last evening, though he had lost much of his homeless bum look after finally getting a bath, healthy food, and a roof over his head.

However, his hardened presence was unmistakable. He was easily a towering figure of two metres, built like a boulder or an unmovable tree that had stood the test of a hundred ashen storms.

"You need to lose that blighted beard, Jinn," Mum told him as she stood up.

"Give me a moment, I'll bring the utensils. And no, I won't take no for an answer. You frightened Arilyn enough yesterday." He finally let go and lay back on the lush grass. A minute later, Mum returned with a box and a mirror.

"It's not exactly shaving equipment, but I guess we can make it work," she said, holding up a spoon whose edge soon turned razor-sharp under her power. I had no idea all this time she could shape metal without any effort. The man, on the other hand, gave no indication of surprise.

"Now, sit back and let me do my magic."

"Hey, Arilyn," the familiar voice of Eran echoed in my ears, followed by a pat on my shoulder. I spun around and shut my friend's mouth with my palm.

"Shh!"

"What are you doing?" Eran whispered, freeing his mouth.

"Nothing," I said with all the nonchalance a kid my age could muster, "just snooping around, sneaking here and there."

"Sneaking?" Eran followed my gaze.

"That's your home." My mother was shaving the copperish, wiry beard off the man's face with the spoon-turned-razor. From the sheer length of the beard and the unsuitable instrument, it was going to take some time.

"Who's that man?" Eran asked.

"My..." I paused, staring at the man, who was staring at my mum with heavy eyes.

"He's... my father."

"Your father?!" Before I could respond, my father perked up at his hitched voice and turned in our direction. The piercing look in his eyes felt like it could punch through any obstruction much less the little hedge. Thankfully, it only felt that way. There were spells or skills for that, but according to the books, they were hardly impressive. Even after mastery, one could barely make out vague figures.

"Pumpkin, what are you doing there?" Mum called.

"Is Eran with you?" To his credit, my friend turned his head and ran straight back the way he came. I did not believe he was old enough to understand that this was a family matter he could not interfere with. Eran was shy, and my father did have an unwelcoming exterior, to say the least. Just as I had been afraid to talk to him throughout the night, though my reason lies elsewhere. I knew there was nothing to fear, that this man had likely sacrificed years to save both Mum and me.

But I did not know him like I did Mum. I feared he wouldn't like me if I said anything unbidden. The trepidation was uncanny, and I couldn't help but imagine how much of it was due to my strained relationship with the father of my previous life. Regrettably, I remembered him as much as I did for this person before me. But the two were not the same person; I needed to remember that. As Mum called again, I dragged my body to the garden and presented myself before them.

Father looked up at me, but I kept my eyes trained on Mum. I had been doing that since last night.

"With everything unexpected, I forgot to congratulate you for solving the die," she said, ruffling my hair.

"Good job, Pumpkin." I grinned and recalled the new form the die had reshaped into. I had tinkered with it for hours last night, making little to no progress. As it turned out, the plight of meeting your father for the first time since birth was a great motivator.

"Can you teach me how to solve it?" I asked, even though I suspected it was impossible without the ability to wield essence. That was why she had given the die to Rose only when she had adequate control over her power.

"You've left me in a pickle, Pumpkin," Mum said.

"You were supposed to finish it sometime around your next birthday and be almost prepared for the next part of the study." Study? Of course, that's what it was. The runes were eerily close to the ones Mum engraved to make all the magical instruments. Since my birthday, I had been working diligently on the die. Now that I could not spend time on it anymore, it would leave a large gap in my schedule. I could fill it with something else. Something related to runes, perhaps.

"Since I finished it already, can't I move on to the next practice early?" I asked, my eyes widening in hope. Mum shook her head.

"Without essence, it's difficult to make any progress with runes."

"But I won't have essence for another 1645 days." Mum stared at me blankly, evidently never expected I had been counting days until my awakening. She turned to the man—to my father—who had been watching the whole exchange with equal parts attention and hesitation.

"Well, you do have some essence," she said slowly, as though measuring every word, "and with your Gift you may be able to make some good progress in runes. I guess I can oblige you with some lessons on artificing." Elected, I swiftly hugged her. Perhaps it was not the most optimal path to tread on, as there was no guarantee of me awakening as an Enchanter. The essence paths could be hereditary, but that did not mean I'd inherit the essence of enchantment from Mum.

After all, she had not inherited the essence of Transformation—the very essence of the Shapers—from her parents.

"Mum, you said I have essence?"

"Only a little of it," Mum affirmed.

"How else do you think you can focus on studying for several hours and run around without breaking a sweat?"

"Because of my attributes?" I asked.

"Don't tell me, attributes require essence too." She nodded.

"Then, wouldn't it mean that if I have a great source of essence, I won't tire for days?"

"If only it worked that way," Mum said, smiling. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Aren't attributes a complex form of essence?" the man interjected, finally finding something to express his view on.

"You're not wrong," Mum said, "but that doesn't explain the complexity at play." She returned to me.

"Think of attributes as a skill with a preset essence usage. The more points you have in it, the greater its effect will be, as the expenditure of essence." That left me so much to dwell upon. If the attribute Focus only lets me focus on something by spending essence, doesn't that mean I'm already using essence unknowingly? So, if I could awaken a new attribute that enables me to wield essence more freely, would not that solve the problem? I posed the question to Mum. She exchanged a look with Father and grinned.

"Clever, isn't he? I wonder who shall take credit for that." Obviously, it should be her, and her alone, but I could be biased.

"Your thinking is not wrong," she said, "though tragically unrealistic. It's nigh impossible to wield essence without a proper Essence Seed and binding to the Aetheric Plane." I knew the Essence Seed to be the most important mystical organ for an Awakened. As the name suggested, it served as the reservoir for all their essence. It was also what defined an Awakened. Only by forming an Essence Seed could one truly awaken their latent abilities and gifts.

Now, I had a gift since birth, but since I did not have an awakened Essence Seed to boot, I could hardly use that gift. Sadly, I would have to wait until my awakening ceremony to form my essence seed.

"What does the binding thing mean?" Mum was about to explain, dumbing it down for a child to understand, when Father piped up:"You can help him to form an Essence Seed already, can't you?" He bobbed his head.

"As for the Aether roots, that can—""Hush, you." Mum chided, sneaking a measuring glance in my direction.

"You haven't even been back for a full day, and you're already putting rash ideas in his head." The man scratched his cheek. Mum turned back to me. Noting the expectation shining in my eyes, she exhaled softly.

"There are reasons why children awaken after a certain age, Pumpkin." She paused, noting the disappointment on my face.

"But that doesn't mean you cannot train wielding essence."

"Really?" I asked expectantly.

"You remembered you asked your Aunt Emi to teach you back then, but she said you are not prepared?" I nodded.

"Well, you're ready now." She tousled my hair.

"I warn you, though. It's not going to be easy." I acted as though I had not heard that last part.

"When can we begin?" Before she could answer, her eyes darted to the fence, sensing a couple of people creeping towards our compound. It was Eran, trailing closely behind his father, whose eyes shifted immediately to my father as they entered the yard. Dalin Stonecutter was a tall man with a protruding belly. Despite the full beard thicker than my father's, he gave a more affable feeling. I had rarely interacted with my friend's father, but I knew him to be a hardworking, honest farmer.

He was among the few people of the town who had ascended to Noble Class without being born into one. The Spell had granted him the title, Stonecutter, for his accomplishment. And now that man was looking at my father like how a commoner looked up to a Heroic Knight. From Mum's explanations, I pieced together that the Path was divided into different classes, starting from the lowest, Common class, all the way to the Legendary and Mythic ranks.

The Noble class was the second stage, where one could receive a noble title if one did not already have one. Third was the Prestigious class, which I suspected was the minimum requirement for a title like Magus or Knight. That meant Aunt Emi was definitely at Prestigious Class, and I strongly suspected Mum was too. I had once asked her outright, but she had merely smiled and dismissed the question.

Then there was Fabled Class, where one's feats, prestige, and power grew beyond the mortal realm and were immortalised in fables. Fabled Class additionally sported a long lifespan, basically adding a couple of mortal lifespans to the awakened. Regrettably, not even one in ten thousand made it into Fabled class in their lifetime. Ruminating on that, I could not help but glance at my father. Last night, they had explained that he was trapped in a Rift in order to help Mum and I escape.

As far as I understood, Rifts were like bubbles of pocket dimensions, teeming with monsters and extraordinary elements. Infrequently, these rifts would form, plaguing the surrounding areas with demons and alien ambiences. It takes a full team of trained expeditionaries to expunge one such blighted phenomenon from the spine of the realm. And to be trapped within a rift... One likely required to be of the Fabled Class to survive.

"Master Jinn," Dalin Stonecutter said with great deference.

"When Eran told me about Arilyn's father, I thought... I never see you again." My father stood up, his pupil contracting at the man. As a look of recognition flashed across his face, Eran's Da stepped forward and dropped to one knee, his right fist clutched to his chest in a military salute.

"I can never repay you for what you've done for me," he said, "But allow me to show my gratitude." Well, that was a bit... dramatic. It stunned Eran. His father was a respectable man among the people, with a properly designated title that he had earned on his own merit. What could my father have done for him to show such deference?

"Please stand up," Father said, his eyes flickering to Mum, clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing. The man obeyed before turning his gaze to his son.

"Eran, do you remember the story I told you about when I was a soldier?" The boy nodded.

"You remember Master Jinn, the man who saved my life? This is him." Understanding finally dawned on Eran, but being a child of merely four winters, he was lost on what to say or do. Before he stammered a greeting, Mum said, "Shall we go inside to discuss the rest?" Although she phrased it as a request, she had already begun pacing towards the house. The others had no choice but to follow. As the men talked, Mum prepared a light lunch for us, despite all of Uncle Dalin's protests.

From what I heard, Dalin Stonecutter could be called Father's apprentice. Despite never acknowledging it in a proper ceremony as his tradition would have it, Father had taught him swordmanship in one of the toughest time of his life. Still, Uncle Dalin was too reverent of Father. Apprentice or not, they were about the same age.

"So your da is a knight?" Eran whispered to me, his eyes wide with expectation.

"He's not," I replied without thinking. Wait, was he? I corrected, "I don't know."

"I'm not a knight," my father said, hearing us. Eran's eagerness dropped. Honestly, I felt a tad bit let down too, though it was within my expectations. Father seemed to read our disappointment and found something else to appease us.

"But I can go toe-to-toe with a knight." It might seem like a boost to palicate us, but I could briefly recall the night. Of his stalwart figure standing before a massive suncursed creature to protect Mum and I. For so long, I had assumed him dead. Mum never clarified what had happened, probably thinking the same. For him to suddenly show up unbidden was a shock to both Mum and I, albeit it turning out to be a delightful one so far as I got to know him.

They recounted the events of a decade ago when Eran's father was a common soldier in the legion. In the very first year of his service, Uncle Dalin's whole squadron had been assigned to deal with the aftermath of a Rift. The higher-ranking fighters were already handled most of the trouble, but they had failed to account for the Rift disestabilizing, releasing hundreds of monsters at once.

"Many people died that day," the former Decurion said.

"Good soldiers and common folk alike. Many more would have fallen if not for Master Jinn's timely intervention. He saved my life, along with a thousand others, and fought until reinforcements arrived."

"I was merely doing my part," my father said.

"Those with talent owe it to the world in one form or another, and fighting monsters is the only thing I'm not awful at." Uncle Dalin bowed his head, perhaps embarrassed that he was not using his talent to good use, having left the legion a few years ago.

"You have done your part, Dalin," Mum interjected.

"And you are still adding to society with all the wheat and oats you grow. Unironically, that's more than what I contributed in the last few years." Now he was completely flustered. And here I believed a grown man could not be embarrassed by compliments.

"I'm glad to see you earned a title for yourself," Father said.

"Stonecutter certainly has a ring to it, doesn't it?"

"And a history, too," Mum hummed.

"I got it fairly early, all thanks to your teaching, Master Jinn." Uncle Dalin patted his son's head.

"But after Eran was born, I did not think much before leaving behind all the bloodshed and trouble, to settle on the land I was awarded."

"I wish," Father exhaled wistfully, "I could be in your shoes. Unfortunately, the Lord does not allow me to put down my sword yet."