Novel Asheva: A Summoner's Tale - [A Monster Tamer Progression LitRPG]

Blurb:
A curse for some, a blessing for others, such is the truth of eternity.

Ewan is left all alone to deal with his tragedy when his father passes away. Scarred, bruised, and smeared in cynicism, he loses all hope and only lives for the promise to his Pa. But before his all-important eighteenth birthday, he finds new information on the Ashevas that makes him dream again. Because its path promises him an eternal life. And of its ever-growing branches, Ewan embraces the Severynth—the Summoner.

Yet the road ahead is full of thorns, and he is not the only one with ambitions. Join Ewan in the world of high fantasy as he calculates his steps and threads through setbacks, the first of which is getting an Astylind. After all, what is a summoner without his beasts…

Genre: Action, Adventure, Fantasy, Romance, LitRPG, Xianxia

Tags: High Fantasy, Magic, Anti Hero, Male Lead, Slice of Life, Progression.

Posting it on Royal Road and Scribble Hub [40 early access chapters on Patreon]
Note: Members are charged on the day they join Patreon, and then monthly on that same date. For example, if you join on the 10th, you'll be charged on that day, and then monthly on the 10th.

P.S: The genres and the tags have most of the information you might need about the novel, please check them out. But other than that, there are still some details that tags don't show, so I'll add them here.

--Narration style is third person limited with minor POV changes to explore the plot [Change is marked by the character's name].

--Story will have status panel, but they'll start after some chapters.

--Protagonist is native to the fantasy world, this book is not a transmigration, reincarnation, isekai, etc. story.

--Pet beasts are a major part of this book.

--Romance will be OTP type [One true pairing] [No Harem].

--Protagonist will be a Beast Summoner/Tamer and pure Spellcaster type [Elementalist].

--There will be character growth and change, the book will have a realistic tone and approach.

--This will be a slow paced story, things will develop little by little, with a good amount of details.

P.P.S: The book cover is from Wong40k.

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Table of Contents:
Chapter-1.1 Eleventh Birthday
Chapter-1.2 The Dead and The Living
Chapter-2 Borrow
Chapter-3 Astylinds’ Home: We Care
Chapter-4 Customer
Chapter-5 Sedation
Chapter-6 Still Alive
Chapter-7 Pa
Chapter-8 Plan
Chapter-9 First Astylind
Chapter-10 Gift
Chapter-11 Inheritance
Chapter-12 Awakening
Chapter-13 Growth
Chapter-14 Elementalist—The Path of Anima
Chapter-15 Pride
Chapter-16 Starting Line
Chapter-17 Dekoth
Chapter-18 Observation
Chapter-19 Hub Stratum
Chapter-20 Ember
Chapter-21 Dumb Indeed
Chapter-22 Transaction
Chapter-23 Toast
Chapter-24 New Instincts
Chapter-25 Blood
Chapter-26 Change of Plans
Chapter-27 Tower of Failures
Chapter-28 Modification
Chapter-29 2nd Awakening
Chapter-30.1 Havanna [Part-I]
Chapter-30.2 Havanna [Part-II]
Chapter-31 Water Jay
Chapter-32 Blood Potion
Chapter-33 Heal
Chapter-34 Birthday
Chapter-35 Frosthelm Festival
Chapter-36 Blood Rein
Chapter-37 Rest
Chapter-38 Soul
Chapter-39 Gore [Part I]
Chapter-40 Gore [Part II]
Chapter-41 Ruined Birthday
Chapter-42 Ryvia
Chapter-43 Spells
Chapter-44 Boom
Chapter-45 Commotion
Chapter-46 Report
Chapter-47 Stalling [Part-I]
Chapter-48 Stalling [Part-II]
Chapter-49 Agreement
Chapter-50 Vow
Chapter-51 Outskirts
Chapter-52 Hypocrite
Chapter-53 Game
Chapter-54 First Hunt
Chapter-55 Twin-Tailed Scorpions
Chapter-56 Brewed-Awakening
Chapter-57 Revenge
Chapter-58 Poison Test
Chapter-59 Bees
Chapter-60 Burden
Chapter-61 Tickets
Chapter-62 Wolves
Chapter-63 Bloodlust
Chapter-64 Yurn
Chapter-65 4th Awakening
Chapter-66 Noble Rite
Chapter-67 Elemental
Chapter-68 Escalate
Chapter-69 Fire Wolf
Chapter-70 Yurnawa [Part-I]
Chapter-71 Yurnawa [Part-II]
Chapter-72 Haze
Chapter-73 Headless Giant
Chapter-74 The Fog
Chapter-75 Coincidence
Chapter-76 May
Chapter-77 Tears of Blood
Chapter-78 Sindra
Chapter-79 Bridge
Chapter-80 Trade [Part-I]
Chapter-81 Trade [Part-II]
Chapter-82 Luck Roulette
Chapter-83 Luck
Chapter-84 Ocean

 

Spoiler: Chapter-1.1 Eleventh Birthday

Chapter-1.1 Eleventh Birthday

[Ewan]

They finally fixed the streetlights, but some still flickered—those greedy asses must’ve skipped a few to cut costs. Ewan raced Nana home, his small steps zipping past the shadows and the lights, swerving through the alleys that departed their school and led to their residential area, his schoolbag slapping against his back as the last flutter of the warmth in the wind smacked him. When he glanced back at the final turn, Nana was panting by the eatery they passed, mouthing him to stop. But he didn’t, and he dashed away with a smirk, leaving her in the dust; today’s last piece of the roasted duck leg was his now.

Yet his run halted, and his shoes scraped the asphalt when he reached his front door. The aroma of the smoky roast wafted from his home, not Aunt Ella’s kitchen—Nana’s home that brushed his fences. He tiptoed to thumb the biometric scanner and pushed the gate an inch when the lock clicked open, sniffing and peeking. The squarish lounge beyond had trapped the smell of the spices and smoke in, the ducks had indeed died and were roasted in his house… His Pa was cooking…

He gulped and backed off, but Nana slapped his back, fuming, her sweaty long chestnut hair sticking to her forehead.

“I told you to stop,” she said, her nostrils flared, and her eyes breathing fire.

Ewan covered her mouth in a hurry and gestured a ‘shh’ in panic. “Pa is cooking today,” he said. “I need to run. Hide me.”

“My tooth hurts,” Nana said in a muffled voice, then pulled his hand down. “My tooth hurts, I think it’s loose,” she whispered, stroking her right cheek. And Ewan’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he stared at her, grinning, the dread of his Pa’s food leaving him for a minute.

“Let me pull it out,” he said, inching closer. And she backed off.

“No! Last time you yanked it, it really hurt, I bled for hours,” she said, covering her mouth and shaking her head.

“You barely bled for an hour, don’t be a baby,” Ewan said, pushing her hand down. “I promise I’ll be gentle this time.”

“Where were you two till now?” The gate of his house creaked open, and his Pa towered over him, glaring at them.

“Shit.” Ewan blurted out and pushed Nana forward, taking a step back behind her. Yet, there was no spoon in his Pa’s hand, no flour whitened his raven hair, no spices streaked his face, and he didn’t don his battle costume—his apron with the funny rabbit face—he was just in his casuals with the ripped pocket. He might not be cooking today…and Ewan almost heaved a sigh of relief.

“We were practicing for the annual festival, uncle. School had us marching for hours,” Nana said. “Ewan had to lead his class, but he puked on the coach’s shoes.” She tittered.

“They made us drink bland milk right before the march, Pa,” Ewan said in annoyance, staring daggers at Nana from the corner of his eyes—that tooth, he would yank it out today for sure, as hard as he could. “It was watery, and it stank. I don’t know how she stomached it; she must’ve vomited too when no was watching her.”

“I didn’t!” She protested with a wrinkled nose.

“Authen, let the kids in already, stop hogging the door,” Aunt Ella said, pushing his Pa to the side, and Ewan beamed. It was indeed Aunt Ella cooking the promised roasted duck, just she did so in their house. “Food is almost ready, go change and wash up,” she said to the two kids with a gentle smile, then turned to his Pa. “Keith should be here soon, let’s prepare the plates.”

“Hmm.” His Pa hummed a nod. “I need to talk to you two about something, let’s have a drink tonight,” his Pa said and walked into the grassy yard beyond the lounge with Aunt Ella where they cooked on the portable stove, while Nana dragged Ewan into the house, away from the tantalizing aroma of the duck that made him drool.

…..

“I’m a grown up now, I don’t need this,” Ewan said, throwing the bib away, grumbling on his stilted tall chair where his toes barely grazed the wooden floor. His focus was on the three roasted ducks sitting in the middle of the dining table on the sharing platter, glazed and steaming, and he homed in on their legs—two of the six were his today for he won the race.

“Grown up, my ass. How old are you? Wear it properly,” his Pa said, clicking his tongue, and shoving the bib back into Ewan’s collar.

“I’m nine already,” Ewan whined.

“You’re eight,” his Pa replied.

“Just wait a few months,” Ewan mumbled as Aunt Ella placed the leg pieces on his plate with the side of garlic bread and thick brown gravy and some salad, then he looked at his Pa. “Did you stretch your t-shirt, Pa? It’s really loose,” he said. The charcoal-colored t-shirt his Pa wore today dangled from his shoulders, fluttering on his sunken chest when the crawling ceiling fan sent him a breeze, and the arms hung loose on his bony biceps. Had he lost weight recently? Ewan wondered.

“I need more nutrients,” his Pa said, nibbling on the duck breast. “Let me eat your leg piece.”

“No!” Ewan said, pulling his plate in. “It’s mine.” He eyed Nana who winced with each bite of the meat across the table, glaring at him. The tooth had been pulled, and she had bled; he took his revenge for her tattling, albeit with reddened scratches on his arms. “I won the race.”

“Forget it,” his Pa said, then flashed his usual mischievous smile with the curled lips. “I love me some breasts anyway.” And he laughed.

“Me too.” Uncle Keith chuckled with him.

“Authen! Keith!” Aunt Ella admonished.

“What, I’m talking about the duck,” his Pa murmured.

“Sleep here tonight, you two,” Uncle Keith said, clearing his throat, looking at Ewan and Nana, barely taking a bite of the food. “We won't be home tonight, so look after each other.”

“I won't sleep with him, dad,” Nana whined. “He hogs all the bed and kicks me.”

“You use me as your pillow and drool on me, I won't sleep with you either.” Ewan fought back, ripping the moist pinkish meat off the duck leg with his teeth, the fat and the glaze making his mouth glisten.

And Aunt Ella slapped their heads in sync, planting their faces in the plates. “Eat properly, don’t make a ruckus,” she said. “And go to bed on time, I’ll beat your bums in the morning if I see the lights on when we come back.” She smiled but her eyes didn’t…

“Yes, aunty,” Ewan said, keeping his head down and focusing on the duck.

“My tooth hurts, mum…,” Nana grumbled and sniffed.

“It’s already out, how would it hurt,” Ewan muttered, then kept quiet as he peeked a glance at the quiet Aunt Ella.

The dinner ended in peace with the clatters of cutlery ringing on the table. And when the three adults tucked the two into bed and went away, when the serene night seeped into the late hours, Ewan and Nana wheezed away in a single blanket, snuggling together, their breaths mingling into a warm embrace…

….

His birthday came and passed, they all shared the cake, Nana fought him for the last slice, and the next year arrived. His Pa thinned by the month, and the ending of a year bared it visible. The three adults sighed a lot recently, and they always whispered among themselves, keeping quiet when he or Nana was around. Soon, when his tenth birthday knocked on the door, his scrawny Pa caught a severe cold, he hacked and hacked, and even coughed blood and vomited mangled pieces of flesh. There was nothing to worry about, his Pa consoled him, but he looked worse for wear with each passing day now.

He was just too tired, raising him alone—Ewan comforted his anxiety. When he got a bit older, he could share his Pa’s burden; he would rest while Ewan worked for their living. Everything would be alright. Yet, when he’d barely reached eleven, when he’d hardly cemented his resolve, his Pa sighed his last breath on his shoulder. Ewan lost him…

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Spoiler: Chapter-1.2 The Dead and The Living

Chapter-1.2 The Dead and The Living

The dead were gone forever, and only the living suffered for them.

He left his presence everywhere—the house of bricks was Ewan’s home because of him, because of his Pa. There were days of tears as there were days of laughter, his Pa marked every second of his life. Ewan lived in bliss, sheltered and protected. His embrace, his warmth, his jokes, his snores, he took them all for granted. Be it ten, twenty, or thirty years down the road, his Pa would still be with him, he believed. He would still wake up in the morning and find his Pa throwing away the burnt omelets in secret, serving the restaurant food as his own. He would still watch tv and find his Pa cracking perverted jokes. He would still have nightmares and find his Pa when he called for him. He would still find his Pa; he would still find him….
But life hit the brakes and shoved reality in his face—he was gone.

He would never see him again; he would never hear his voice. That old man left him all alone.

And the vultures came knocking on the door.

Ewan would turn eleven this year. Some said he was already half an adult, others replied he was still a little kid—wet behind the ears. They didn’t even bother to hide it from him and argued who would inherit his father’s wealth. But none of it mattered, he cared naught for what these mongrels thought or wanted. It had only been a day since his Pa died. They were still in the funeral hall, his father’s urn still sat warm on the head table, and the bastards already sang a different tune.

The big-bearded Uncle Jon who gave him shoulder rides, the sweet-perfumed Aunt Zelda who often brought him and Nana chocolates, the older cousin Juston—the earring cousin—who covered for him when his Pa fumed; they now wanted his blood. They weren’t alone, the others waited their turn.

They said it was for his Pa’s legacy, that they would secure it for him until he came of age, and they needed his blood for it.
Ewan didn’t bother with the narrative they played, be it for his Pa’s legacy or whatnot, he only wanted his father back. But they could never fulfill his wish…not that they cared for it either. So, he let them do whatever they wanted.

And the inconspicuous corner of the funeral hall gathered a crowd. One after another, they drew his blood and left him pale, bruised, and hurting. His bloodshot eyes had puffed; tears rolled down his cheeks. He sniffed and wiped his snot with his sleeves, the cuts they made stung and purpled as seconds passed. Some offered him a glass of water when he choked but treated him as foul air when they got what they wanted.

He wanted to sleep, but they didn’t let him. Once he slept, it wouldn’t hurt anymore, the suffocation was smothering him. His chest hurt, his head ached, his face was feverish, and he gasped for air. Yet, no one gave him the room to breathe.

Finally, only three people remained around him.

“Kid, what’s the problem? Just mark these,” The middle-aged man said, pacifying his irritated wife. Ewan would rather they took his blood, but instead they wanted him to sign some papers.
He curled up and buried his head in his knees. The house they lived in, a small account, and another separate account for his school fees, his Pa repeatedly admonished him to not give away anything related to these three. They were the crutches for his future, he often said, a future Ewan didn’t wish to live for, but the promise forced him to, no matter how much it hurt.

“We’re talking to you.” His wife slapped him across the face. His ear rang and his temple ached as he fell to his side, thudding his head on the floor, and he curled tighter. He didn’t budge no matter how much they yelled at him or hit him.

“HEY!!!” A woman yelled from afar. That was Aunt Ella’s voice, Ewan peeked from between his arms and saw her hurrying towards them with Uncle Keith and Nana. Were they here for Pa’s inheritance too? He didn’t want any of it anymore, they should just take it away, he sniffed and hid his new tears behind his arms as they drenched his sleeves.

Aunt Ella dove for him, kneeling on the cemented floor as her knees scraped, while Uncle Keith pushed the fuming couple away from Ewan, Nana standing on the side with her bear-shaped schoolbag, sobbing away with her hiccups.

“I’m sorry, we’re late,” Aunt Ella said, squeezing Ewan into a hug, stroking his head. “Cry, let it all out.”

Her words broke the dam, and Ewan bawled in her arms, clutching her clothes, his semi-dried blood staining her.

…….

[Keith]

“How is he?” Keith asked as Ella exited Ewan’s room, closing the door as quietly as she could, avoiding the creak of the hinge. The dimness of the evening seeped into the house with only the dull bisque light from the wall bulb struggling against it. The lasting cries of the dogs on the street were the only source of sound today, even the returning birds stayed silent as if in mourning—the whole neighborhood had gone eerily mute.

“He cried himself to sleep,” she said, slumping beside Keith on the sofa in the hall, the ivory fur crumpling under her with a muffled squeak. “He was pale white; those bastards took so much of his blood.”

“Shh, you’ll wake him up,” he said.

“It’s pissing me off, he’s just a kid and they all ganged up on him. What was Thea doing? How could she let them treat her own son like this?”

“Authen’s death might’ve hit her too hard, she’s probably not in any condition to think about anything else,” Keith said.

“Still, he’s her son,” Ella said then buried her face in her palms and grunted. “Authen trusted us with him, and we couldn’t even stay beside him when his father died, when he needed us the most.”

“No one can foresee these things to the tee, even Authen predicted his time of death wrong.”

Ella sighed. “He should’ve just given up his hub access, why did he have to be so stubborn.”

“It’s not so easy, that’s his life’s work… and it was probably a lesson for Ewan,” Keith said.

“What lesson, he just saw one of the ugliest natures of human today, it probably scarred him for life. Will he ever trust anyone like this?”

“Because of that, he’ll live much longer. And I think Authen even gave us a wrong prediction of his death, so we couldn’t shelter Ewan.”

Ella shook her head. “You guys are too cruel…. To his own son, how could he…”

“Don’t hate him too much. He was just a desperate man who had to choose his son’s survivability over protecting his innocence.”

“Why did it have to be this way…” Ella muttered and leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. “Keith, are we really leaving?” she asked. “He shouldn’t be alone right now; we need to stay with him.”

“We can delay for a few months at best, but we must leave. We can't avoid the conclave,” Keith said, taking out an ashen-gray mask from his tear-shaped pendant, stroking its contours. “We promised Authen to keep him safe, this is the best way to do so. Nana is already a target, if we stay with Ewan for long, he’ll become one too.”

“We also promised to take care of him,” Ella said. “He’s just a child.”

“His staying alive is more important, Ella,” Keith said. “When push comes to shove, we’ll have to fight back. Ewan or Nana, I’m only capable of protecting one of them. Must you force me to make that choice.”

“…I just feel helpless,” Ella said, leaning on Keith, resting her head on his shoulder.

“We are helpless.” Keith sighed. And the darkness of the night engulfed the house.

……

[Ewan]

Ewan spent his days in a haze. Most of the time, he stayed curled up in his bed and slept. Aunt Ella and Uncle Keith took care of him, but he remained broken. Nana tried to cheer him up, bring some light to his eyes, but he couldn’t gather his pieces. His shattered self and his dead eyes only sent them away in dejection, day after day.
And after two months, or was it three, they stopped coming. The stray wind brought the news that they moved away in a hurry, and it worsened his condition.

The once lively house was now a haunted mansion. The lights never came on anymore, the grass in the yards grew untended, the white blossom tree in the backyard bloomed and withered then bloomed again.

If only he could stay in bed forever, never to wake up again. His thoughts often wandered in that direction. He had nothing to live for, no one to call family. No one cared whether he lived or died. Staying awake only hurt him.

Yet, he couldn’t die….

His Pa told him to live, he couldn’t disappoint him. And so, he struggled to survive. He learned how to cook, feeding on enough just to live. He opened the shop attached to the house and earned his living by bathing and grooming the Astylinds. He went back to school, covered the syllabus he missed, and threw himself into the books. Day after day, he trudged through life. No aims, no dreams, he waited for the day he would die.

Seven years….

Maturity came not with age but with responsibility, even the weight of his own survival was an apt trigger—the seasons changed, he changed, but he still had much to grow.

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Spoiler: Chapter-2 Borrow

Chapter-2 Borrow

[Slate]

Ozryn, Ayres’ Castle.

“Just let them be, they won’t learn,” Thea said, knitting an unending white muffler that piled up on the red carpet. The brown leather office chair squealed as she rocked back and forth. “Every single one of them is a blood sucking leech, using the façade of revenge…”

“Yes ma’am,” Slate said, bowing a forty-five degree; several strands of his black hair fell over his thick-rimmed glasses.

“No, forget that.” She clicked her tongue and stopped knitting. “They really need to stop acting out like this, he already has nothing left anymore.”

“Yes ma’am.” He bowed again.

She threw the knitting needles on the office desk in front of her and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t care about him, I really don’t…but I can't just sit around and do nothing,” she muttered. Her leg bounced up and down, her pointy heels tapped on the floor, she fidgeted.

“Ma’am, did Ms. Lumen not come today?”

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me.” Her jitters dimmed, her legs slowed down, and she leaned all the way back with a deep breath. “Where’s my mother, has she arrived yet?” The chair uttered another despairing groan.

Must change the chair today, Slate narrowed his eyes and made a mental note.

Her fingers drummed on the armrest as she swirled the chair around and gazed at the entrancing view outside the enforced glass walls. This building reached for the sky, the tallest in their colony, Ozryn, and their floor topped all. It still couldn’t surpass the ‘walls’, but inside, they had no contenders. Yet, the glorious days with Authen were long gone. The market value of ‘Ayres Castle’ plunged since the day he died, they barely stood operable now, in the colony and the hub stratum, and they all blamed Ewan for it. They hoisted the hypocritical flag of revenge for Thea’s father, but greed was all they had to offer…

“Sunbird has already docked, ma’am. But she took Sir Leaf with her to meet some friends, they should be here by dusk.”

“Hmm.” She hummed a nod, spun the chair back, and faced him, tucking the stray black hair behind her ear. “Forget it, just let them do whatever they want, they’re just venting on him anyway,” she said. “Tell them to show some restraint though, they harm a hair on him again, and I’ll raze their business to the ground.”

“Yes ma’am.” Slate bowed again and remained there for a while.

“You can go now.” She picked up the needles again and knitted while rocking back and forth, the chair creaking beneath.

He waited for her to flip again, but she didn’t this time. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and went out with another bow, loosening his tie when he was out. That lazy bitch Lumen was testing of his patience, he needed to have a good talk with her; after all, her serenity potions were vital for Thea.

…..

[Ewan]

Obria, First Institute.

Ewan slumped on his desk and gazed at the gloomy Barrentide sky from the third-floor window. Birds soared off in a ‘V’ formation, chilly gusts swayed the withered trees and blew the dead auburn leaves away—the cloudy weather resonated with his mood when the wind met his sigh. He was at a loss on what to do.

Mr. Worth continued the lecture at the podium, unshaven today yet still perky as ever, but nothing reached his ears. His mind was on his Sols, or a lack thereof. Business was down this month. He only earned some pocket-change from the regular customers, that too came out of pity no doubt, and he was already out. He didn’t have enough to even eat lunch or dinner tonight. He always skipped breakfast; his stomach had long stopped growling for the morning grub. But today, it just didn’t shut up. His last meal was that half a sandwich from four days ago—cold cucumbers and lettuce against the salted slab of yellowed cheese squeezed between two stale slices of bread—and today’s afternoon passed without food too. Luckily the desk wasn’t the shared type, else the grumbling complaints would’ve pricked him by now.

The capacious mansion that was his house, the pricey furniture that adorned the place, the chunky fence that defended his premise along with the biometric setup—they all screamed riches, yet the ‘owner’ verged on starvation. All because that old man locked his inheritance behind his eighteenth birthday and tied his hands, he couldn’t touch anything inside without the deed, not even the decorative piece of fruit bowl on the table…
He sighed again and closed his eyes. He imagined the bench as his bed and sprawled, at least he could preserve some energy that way. His dire situation kept him awake last night. Now, his dry eyes stung, the dark circles deepened, and the disorientation hammered him.

A piece of chalk came flying and smacked his head as he was about to doze off into the dream world.

“The value of constants can change in different worlds as several Ashevas have proven it. You’ll have to adjust your spells with that in mind. All Starons have their advantage.” Mr. Worth eyed Ewan while continuing, “We humans aren’t any different. Our body isn’t fit to control Anima by nature, we can't become Ashevas naturally like many other Starons. There have been rare cases of newborns with natural affinity, even their bodies get attuned to the element since they contact the Anima in their fetal stage, but they’re the exceptions not the rules. For most of us, that isn’t a possibility. We’re good at adapting though, and that’s why we could stand at the top. Wisdom rules all, remember that.”

He gave him a few seconds’ glare then turned around and resumed the half-finished equation on the blackboard.
Ewan rubbed his head, where the chalk hit, and patted the white powder off. He couldn’t even sleep in peace. Even with his seat in the last row, in the corner by the window, the wordy toad could still spot him sleeping. The bastard got some good eyes, Ewan groaned. If he didn’t fix his Sols problem soon, he wouldn’t live for long anyway, discipline in class was the least of his problems.

The alleyway that brushed the back of their school building and headed towards his residential area was a good place to ‘borrow’ Sols from someone…his hollowed stomach drove his brain to think of a solution as he peeked at the desolate entrance of the alley through the window. But could he borrow anything? He was skin and bones after all, the muscles and the fat had all burnt away to keep him alive on rainy days. Not to mention his coming of age was soon, a black mark on his record could prove devastating to his situation—he could lose access to his inheritance, many were eager to see that happen…

At least the water was free; he took out the frosted plastic bottle from his bag and filled his stomach with the chilled water, consoling its growl for now. Before long, however, it would rumble again.

…..

The long clangs of the bell ended the last period, and Ms. Ridgell clicked her tongue at the barely finished formula of the Aenon solution on the blackboard. Her being the obsessive but still a kind ma’am, she looked at the haggard students and closed her register, bidding them farewell for the day. The students yawned and stretched their bodies—Ewan did too, and his joints popped. The garbled chatters, the clicking bag clamps, and the scraping chairs took over the class as the swarm walked out in batches of two and three. Ewan went out when the crowd dwindled, slinging his bag over his right shoulder, shaky on his feet.

The corridor stretched endlessly before him, and the bottom of the stairs was an eternity away, each step challenged his wobbly self. The juniors had the bottom floors while the seniors sat at the third and fourth, he grumbled at the unfairness of the world as he walked down, the railing taking his side against the stairs and supporting his descent. The young ones had the energy to walk several flights of stairs in the morning, he was already too old for this, and his stomach growled again.

When he reached the ground floor and exited the building, to the plaza, the time of the decision dawned. The alleyway was on his left, beyond the football field. Junk cluttered the bleak path, the carpet of dead leaves made it dismal, even the light dimmed past its entrance; it was the perfect place to ‘borrow’ from someone. Anyone who walked in was either a prey, a predator, or someone who looked to get frisky with his girl. Someone would borrow and the others would lend, the transaction never ended in this alley.
And before his rationale could even finalize his decision, his legs took him towards the infamous passage. If he couldn’t borrow himself, he could help others borrow, the light bulb flashed over his head—the threat of Mr. Zane making rounds always worked. The sound of his cane grating against the paved floor terrified the alley dwellers, for he used it more than his words.

The cake couldn’t all be Ewan’s, but he could still get a slice, that was enough for him to survive for now. If he still couldn’t, if his luck was just that bad, then he had to knock on Nana’s door shamelessly. Even if she didn’t care for him anymore, she might feed him something, minding their years of relationship. He was her fiancé after all, even if only in name now. But…was she eating properly herself…

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Spoiler: Chapter-3 Astylinds’ Home: We Care

Chapter-3 Astylinds’ Home: We Care

Residential Area, Zone-A.

The bluish neon of the signboard flickered and lit up when Ewan completed the biometric scan and flipped the switch on. “Astylinds’ Home: We Care”, the shop stood out like a nail in the otherwise mundane residential block, the ringing chime by the door cracking its quiet. Today too, the lounge of the shop remained desolate; the counter desk and the monitor had even gathered days’ worth of dust. Paint chipped off the ivory walls, a creamish hue tinted the rug that once boasted a vibrant white, dots of black ruined the aged artistic ceiling, and another thick but rusted metal door stood by the counter’s side—it was the view that greeted Ewan’s arrival each day, and its bleakness elicited his helpless sigh every time.

What a breath of fresh air would it be if the customers’ line curved from the corner of the alley for his shop too; he envied those shops whose business boomed from an ‘unintentional promotion’. Where were those mouthy angels who would proliferate the goodness of his shop… Alas, his shop only provided cleaning and grooming services for the Astylinds. He took care of them for his customers and charged them by days and levels. It was all he could do for now, given his lack of capital, and such a niche business model assured a small customer pool.

Only the Severynths who lived a casual lifestyle visited such shop’s doorstep. They didn’t prefer bloodshed and couldn’t care less about advancing. They also didn’t join the expeditions or became hunters. Those who did though, they took care of their own Astylinds—he had never even met one. Thus, the total share of the market remained humble, and Ewan had to struggle to dip his finger in the already crowded jar.

The spacious courtyard beyond the metal door allayed his mood a bit, covered in ankle-length grass dancing in the waves of wind, synced yet so different. Some patches withered brown, some still struggling lush. Several rusted metal cages with shiny spots dug into the soil by the edges. A curved pathway paved in smooth rocks sliced the yard in half. And on the other side and across the yard rested his house. A mansion, some might call it, and its existence anchored his confidence in life, at least he had a good roof over his head.

Tall thick metal fences covered this whole area—including his shop, the large middle courtyard, his house, the side lawns, and the backyard. The only entrance to this place was his shop’s door, and its robust and sturdy alloy made any break-in a nigh impossibility.
Yet, with all the security, he had little any would want to steal, unless old electronics was the trend in the black market these days…

The hall of his home with the same ivory walls but wooden flooring welcomed him with a cold embrace, the draught carrying the stink from the stagnant and overfilled sink of the kitchen to the right—the clogged mess and the dirty dishes were long overdue. But his current state still couldn’t muster the strength to deal with it as he hastened towards the stove and put the kettle on with fresh drinking water, chugging a mouthful to alleviate his hunger pang while the water boiled.

The single sol he ‘borrowed’ from the near naked couple in the desolate alleyway only afforded him three packets of noodles, it would last him three days. The rising trend of the prices had yet to plateau, and each time the news wrote something on the issue, his heart skipped a beat for he expected the worst. Today, the sol bought him three packets; tomorrow, it might not be enough for even one…

He lumbered across to the other side of the hall and collapsed on the long fluffy white sofa. His eyes struggled with the heavy eyelids, and his vision blurred. The hazy reflection on the tv even made the plastic fruit bowl on the table look appetizing. The shiny apple, the plump grapes, the ripe banana…his stomach growled in greed, and he almost drooled, struggling to hold on to his sanity.
If only the plants his Pa potted in the corners were edible…
Someone in his class once gossiped that our stomach could digest the book pages, he glanced at the filled bookcase by the window whose edges barely cleared the back of the sofa but still held back from experimenting. He had three days of respite now; his business just might recover enough for him to survive.

And he only had to subsist for a month or so anyway. If lady luck agreed with him, it could be even shorter. Be it the ancient sages, the Cerades, or the new summoners, the Severynths, both major paths of Asheva had the same beginning—the awakening of the soul. Though random, most Starons awakened their souls a few months before their eighteenth birthday—Ewan’s was in a few months. He had no one to celebrate it with, but many would gather for the carnival, for the Frosthelm festival claimed the date on the calendar.

He could awaken any day now; the thought slightly brightened his drab mood. Once he crossed that line and contracted an Astylind, he wouldn’t be a mortal anymore, he would graduate from being a Kyron. The newfound strength from the feedback would widen his means to earn, not to mention his need for food would go down too. But above all, he could finally become a Severynth.

The kettle whistled in the kitchen and broke him away from his lethargic excitement—the water had boiled, he had to put in the noodles now.

….

His room, the largest of the four on the ground floor, lay across the hall and towards the backyard; a stairway with polished wooden railing curved over them and reached for the first floor. The lack of regular visits staled everything beyond the stairs, and now only the balcony remained fresh—when he timed it right, he could even ‘observe’ some beautiful girls who lived in this neighborhood from up there. The evening was such an opportune time, but he reigned in the bastardly want for now and headed for his room to eat, switching on his computer while gobbling his first mouthful of cheap but moreish noodles. Whatever they added to make it so good…

The pre- and post-symptoms of the awakening stayed the same on the colony’s intranet, yet he read them again and sniffed his body. There came no sickening sweet smell though, not even a hint of it that could make him gladly misread his situation—as always, he just smelled of his charcoal-based shower gel. Everyone said the smell would linger for days, but he still worried about missing it…
Little disappointed and finally feeling the weight of food in his stomach, he visited the forum that flooded his history and read those olden rumors again. The forum was dying but those rumors still gathered traffic—they talked of gaining eternity on the path of Asheva. Some claimed a slightly longer and healthier lifespan while others mentioned surpassing the age of the moons.

No confirmation or denial existed on the network, even his teachers refused to comment on it and brushed it off. But even if it was false news, it dazzled Ewan. Because he chanced upon this information, he dreamed again—a dream of eternity.
If he had to die one day anyway, it didn’t matter whether it was now or eighty years later. He slogged for his Pa’s promise, but years would wear it thin; one day, his thread would snap. Such thoughts often crossed his mind back then. But this single piece of news filled him with hope and made him yearn for a future, it dragged him out of the ditch.

Today or tomorrow, he would awaken for sure, his Pa already confirmed it. Even if the aptitude of his awakened soul were to be subpar, he would still be happy. Because unlike those who couldn’t awaken at all, he could at least begin his journey as an Asheva, on the path of Severynth—the humble path that made their plane, Airadia, the overlord of its star system.

Ewan slurped his lukewarm noodles again and went on to the semi-official site for Severynths—it bore the mark of an ‘O’ wearing a gray beret, the insignia of Obria’s defense force, but the officials hadn’t confirmed their involvement. Nonetheless, it was the go-to place for anything Asheva related. And today, the countdown for the release of the newer database of <Identify> and a newer version of <Contract> would hit zero—one was the crux of Ashevas while the other sparked the Severynth path.

Before he could see the timer hit single digits though, his doorbell clanged.

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Spoiler: Chapter-4 Customer

Chapter-4 Customer

The bell rang when he wasn’t expecting anyone—it must be a customer. Ewan bolted out, tossing the almost empty bowl onto the dining table, and rushed for the shop, his worn-down slippers hanging by a thread.

A girl stared at his neon signboard when he opened the door, at least a head shorter than him, even with her stabbing stilettos.

“Are you open?” she turned to him and asked. The black hair grazed her neck, her loose white top barely hung from her shoulders, exposing the cyan straps of her inner wear, and the blue hot pants dug up a bit too much.

“Of course, please come in,” Ewan said with a smile. “What can I do for you today?”

“How do you charge?” she asked, looking around the empty shop with a frown, then came to the counter. She had about leaned on the table but stopped and backed off when she saw the collected dust.

“It’s on a per level and per day basis,” Ewan said. “I’m really sorry about the dust, the cleaner is on a long break.” He took out a rug from behind the counter and scrubbed the table clean, wiping the monitor too.

“Do you take special orders?” she asked.

“May I have more details, ma’am?”

“I have a Fire Monkey,” she said, lingering on the words. “She may or may not be with child.”

“Ma’am, we’re neither equipped nor have the license for such services,” Ewan said with a helpless smile. “It’s better for her and the baby if you take her to a proper care center.”

“She’s only Level-1, you don’t need to worry too much,” she said. “And I’ll pay you double your rate.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, we really can't accept this order,” Ewan said.

“Three times your rate,” she said, and the lounge quietened.

The cons outweighed the pros with the unusually raised price, but the desperation of survival and the dread of starvation blurred his sense of wariness against the risk. “Four times, and you bear the penalty if we’re found out,” he said.

“Six times. I’ll pay the fine if it comes to that, but I also won't sign a waiver,” she said, a hint of smirk tugging at her lips.

Sirens blared in Ewan’s head, and a sense of familiarity struck him. Each of her counters inched towards trapping him at the end, and the final one hammered the nail. Only one group of people wanted such results; traveling such a long distance from Ozryn, they’d really worked hard over the years…

“Make it seven times and you have a deal,” Ewan said, throwing caution to the wind just this once. Even if they didn’t trap him, he would have a hard time surviving these months. But if he prevailed and came out alive on the other end, he would at least be fifteen Sols richer after deducting the expenses. The overall cost would still be much cheaper than the care center, so she should accept it—it was a win-win for both sides.

And indeed, she shook his hand and paid him twenty-one Sols for three days of care and medical charges. His heart couldn’t rest beating when he finalized her non-official receipt with her name, glancing at his new balance of Sols, and as he took out the wristband for her Astylind, she opened her Dekoth in the courtyard—the soul vortex.

A stench of sulfur assaulted Ewan, and a torrid breath caressed his face when he approached her. His lips dried, his eyes itched, and his parched throat stung when he gulped.
Soon, about a two feet tall monkey plodded out, and the grass beneath it browned, some strands even scorched black. She donned the coral-colored fur with a bulging stomach, her lanky limbs hung about, a long but droopy tail twitched behind her, and a blob of orange fire danced on her forehead.

When Necia, the customer, gave the go-ahead, Ewan checked the docile Fire Monkey—her pulse, her pupils, her breathing, the color of her nails, and even her skin and fur condition. He went through all her vitals and confirmed her condition, and only when he overruled the possibility of any tampering, not that it was likely, did he fasten the wristband on her bony arm and led her to one of the cages on the side.

“You’re keeping her in a cage?” Necia asked with a scowl.

“I can't let her loose, ma’am, she won't listen to my commands properly when you’re not here,” Ewan said, locking the cage door. “Please don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her. If she feels like coming out, I’ll let her out too.”

“Make sure you do,” Necia said. And after a small barrage of random questions of concern from her, Ewan saw her out of the main door and bid her farewell with a smile.

Because the waiver didn’t chain this deal, there were several possible repercussions that could follow an unfortunate outcome. If a mishap happened during the monkey’s labor and she died, Necia could hold him responsible, and he was certain to lose that case. But if the monkey raged and damaged his property, or worse yet… A lungful of breath cleared his head and he let the thought subside for now. It was better to let this matter end peacefully. The customer would get her Astylind back, safe and sound, and he would remain rich.

Astylinds were strong and possessed a fast recovery rate. Even the weakest of them surpassed average humans in everything but wisdom. But childbirth still posed a risk to them, even more so than humans in many cases. The stronger they were, the harder it was for them to give birth to their next generation. Thus, he needed to prepare to achieve a favorable result.

He’d consistently ranked first in his biology class, and by a good margin; he knew the theories by heart. He could do it, he cheered himself up. Once he made sure the monkey rested well in the cage, he locked his shop and went out for supplies in his casuals, shoving his phone in his pocket.

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Spoiler: Chapter-5 Sedation

Chapter-5 Sedation

“Say no to the Severynths! Take down the walls!!” The protestors lined up on the roadside and yelled their slogans while raising their banners and distributing flyers; Ewan had already refused dozens of solicitors along the way.

It’s getting worse…

The news reported several cases of violence against even the bystanders and the general citizens lately, things looked grim. They opposed the Severynths, and they opposed the perimeter wall—the giant ring that made their colony and kept them safe. And this was when they had just suffered frequent raids from the Astylinds a few months back.
The constant blaring alarms, the high alert warnings, the flashing red lights, the agitated movement of the defense force ‘War Dogs’, and the faint noises of battles trickling in from the outskirts for days shook the peace of Obria to its core. If they hadn’t had the walls or the Severynths against that kind of raid…

Ewan shook his head and rode the tram to the market area; he had more important matters at hand. The higher-ups could worry about the peace of the colony, he had his own peace to worry about.

….

A few hours later, Ewan returned home four Sols shorter and his stomach rumbling, lugging a carry bag full of medical and food supplies and slinging a secondhand fire-hazard suit from his shoulder—it had seen a lot of years, the holes and the tears proved its hardships. But he could only afford this, else he would lose what he just earned, and the venture would be meaningless.

First things first, he put the medical supplies on the kitchen counter and rushed for the bathroom—eating after four days of fasting gave him minor diarrhea.
Once he relieved the rush and came out, he slumped on the sofa with the tools to fix the suit; it was his life-saving measure after all. Normal threads he had at home wouldn’t work, he bought it for an Astylind’s fire, the temperature would be beyond their limits. But he didn’t have the official threads and couldn’t find or afford a set either. So, after rummaging through his old stuff and grinding his mind, the stapler pins stood out. An hour of struggle marred his hands with cuts and nicks, but he finally stapled each hole and tear, triple checking for any leak; he wasn’t good at it, but the suit would do for one use.

That took care of the protection, now he had to work on completing the job. He leaned back on the sofa, grunted a tired exhale, and recalled the books he had on the topic and what more he needed. The elective classes he chose included a general lecture on anatomy; Astylinds and Starons both sat in the middle of the list. Though it didn’t have any practical lessons, the slideshows were vivid enough for him to grasp the vital points, and Mr. Baryt was responsive enough to quench all his asks. Nevertheless, he still needed to refresh his memory. And so, he mustered the energy and scoured the brimming bookcase sitting by the window.

…

…

…

The chirping crickets broke him away from the books when the moons came out, and his stomach growled as the secondary reminder. He was hungry, and so must be the monkey. When he switched the lights on and checked on her with a bowl of porridge and sautéed vegetables, as the crickets hushed from his presence, the Fire Monkey lay listless in her cage. She neither responded to the change in lighting, nor did she react to his footsteps; the creaking of the rusted cage gate couldn’t even elicit a twitch. His heart skipped a beat, and he rushed to check her, putting the tray on the side.

Luckily, the books confirmed the signs she showed—it was a process of self-sedation many Astylinds went through to conserve energy before labor. Ewan flumped on the grass beside the cage and rubbed his forehead, dreading the headache to come. The ones who self-sedated had a higher chance of rampaging during the delivery, the statistics wrote in bold words. Now he worried whether the fire suit he bought was enough to see him through the plight.

Alas, he couldn’t shirk. The only thing he could do now was to try his best and plan for the worst. Once he checked the monkey again, fed her the loose porridge without choking her, and made sure she rested well in the cage, he latched the door and went back to reading. Just this time, he picked up a hefty book of law with a brown hardcover—it had everything related to Obria’s legal system.

While reading, he also contacted Uncle Thain about the issue, the new idol song playing instead of the ring as always, and consulted him, though he had to suffer the scolding for the first ten minutes.

“Are you playing with your life!” The cracked voice from the phone pushed the speaker to its limits. “If you needed help, why didn’t you come to me?” Uncle Thain yelled.

“I can deal with it myself,” Ewan said, his voice dim, keeping the phone away from his ears.

“Is this how you deal with it? Risking your life for mere pocket change? Are you taking me as a joke?”

“It’s all under control, you don’t have to worry.” Ewan tried to allay the heat.

“Would you call me if it was under control! Huh!!”

….

When the intensity of the conversation simmered down, Ewan finally worded his concern on the matter and asked for advice, though he stayed adamant on handling everything himself. Favors had long lost his trust, he neither wanted to owe nor wanted to be owed anymore. Even if it was Uncle Thain on the other end, he didn’t have the capacity to cross that bridge. There was only one who could still make him walk over, but she had already shut him out…

Uncle Thain listed several solutions that Ewan wrote down for hours, from the worst-case scenarios to the most favorable ones. They talked of each outcome, the best way of handling them, and the repercussions in case everything went wrong. And by the time they ended the call, the counter on the phone showed four hours and fifty minutes. The night still had many more hours to go though, and he had to use the time as best as he could, so Ewan went over the list once more and switched back to the anatomy books.

The sky purpled then grayed, and the morning quietly bled through the night, only the tweets of the rising birds announced its presence. As Ewan stretched, groaned, and rubbed his weary eyes on the sofa, and as the sun cleared the fences of his yard, he got a call from his school—it was bad news.

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Spoiler: Chapter-6 Still Alive

Chapter-6 Still Alive

First Institute, Fourth Floor, Admin Office.

Ewan stood shell-shocked in place with a boy and a girl, both in school uniform like him. The boy had his hands in his pocket, his eyelids drooped, and he leaned back on one foot, playing with a piece of paper on the floor. While the girl hung her head down and clutched her skirt, her tears puddling at her feet, her shoulders trembling.

“Today will be the last day. If you guys don’t clear your due fees by the evening, you won't be getting any Astylind. Do you understand?” the young female staff said, sitting in her cubicle while her monitor displayed the three students’ details.

“I understand, can I go now?” the boy asked, then strode away when he got the nod.

“Ma’am, it must be a mistake. My fee is transferred from a separate account, I have no control over it. And there’s money in it, I’ve checked recently,” Ewan said, his heart sinking.

“Clear it up from your side then. We haven’t received the fee yet,” the female staff said.

“Ma’am, my dad said he’ll pay it within a week,” the girl said, sniffing, as Ewan staggered out of the office, stumbling on the printer’s wire, and called Uncle Thain with numb and cold fingers. The face in the tinted window of the corridor was bloodless, he looked aghast. Even the cheerful and upbeat idol song for the ring couldn’t cheer him up, for he was about to lose his future, his dream.

“Hello, uncle. Can you check my account? The school fees one,” he said when the call connected.

“What happened? Did we miss something last night? Are you alright?” Uncle Thain said, and the sound of clicking keys echoed in the background with some muffled white noise.

“No, I’m not.” His voice shook. “Please check it quickly.” Ewan stood by the large window in the corridor, feeling the caress of the cold wind on his face, but it could give him no respite.

“Just a second,” he said. “…Your account’s been blocked.” And the typing sound sped up with hammering strokes.

Ewan closed his eyes and exhaled a powerless breath.

“I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I should’ve noticed this sooner,” Uncle Thain said.

“What’s the issue? Can you fix it?” Ewan asked, rubbing his forehead.

“There seems to be some kind of complaint registered against it. It shouldn’t be a problem; I can clear it up soon.”

“How long? Can you do it today?”

“It will at least take a few days if not a week, I won't be able to speed up the process from my end,” Uncle Thain said. “What happened? Is the school giving you any trouble?”

Ewan clutched his phone and looked down the window. Students gathered in the plaza; some sat and chatted on the grass, some rushed for their class, while some jogged the morning laps. Gusts of wind blew from time to time, it took the fallen leaves on a short journey, lifting the girls’ skirts on its way. But none of it could distract him. His mind was in a jumbled mess, he looked bleak, and his eyes dimmed.

If I jump from here, everything will end, I can rest then…

The thoughts he fought off for years crept up to him once again. Only his dream of becoming an Asheva, a Severynth, had kept him going, but even that was now slipping away from his hands.

“Ewan? Hello? Ewan, are you there?” Uncle Thain yelled on the other side. “Did you hear me? Do you want me to come forward and handle everything?”

I don’t want it to end. I’m so close now.

Ewan clenched his fists and took a deep breath; the cold air chilled his chest. He was still alive; he still breathed. And till his last breath, he wanted to live with all he had. If all the doors closed for him, he would rip another path open and move ahead—in the pitch dark, a speck of hope lit up. If he played his cards right…

“No, uncle, I’ll handle it.” The height that Uncle Thain was at, a single hum from him could solve all his problems, but Ewan still wanted to do it himself. “I’ll call you back after a while.” He cut the call without waiting for a reply and went back into the office. The girl stood there with her head down, struggling to explain her situation, hoping for sympathy, the puddle of her tears larger than before, while the rest of the staff minded their own business.

“Ma’am, my account has some problem, the fee won't be transferred today. Is it possible if I delay it a bit? There used to be a late fine system, right? Can’t I get the Astylind later after I pay that?” Ewan asked, cutting the girl’s plea short.

“No, the headmaster has given strict orders this time. There will be no exceptions.”

“Please, ma’am,” he said. “This is my future we’re talking about.”

“No, sorry.” She shook her head.

“Okay then, I quit. Can you give me the withdrawal receipt?” The school lost all authority over him when they made this decision, and so, his voice regained its dominance, and his tensed shoulders loosened—a weight was off him. Both his mind and body lightened.

“What?” The female staff gaped at him, and the girl and the staff members around also stared; his drastic decision finally got their attention.

“What’s the problem?” A tall man in a brown checkered suit and frameless spectacles walked up to them with a steaming cup of cocoa—an overly sweet cup of cocoa, no doubt. He was Ewan’s teacher, Mr. Baryt, the famous sweet tooth. He taught them basic biology, Starons’ and Astylinds’ anatomy, and their different mutations.

“There’s no problem, sir. Ma’am, can you hurry up please? I have a shop to look after.” Ewan said.

“Are you sure?” the female staff asked.

“Ewan, don’t be stupid. With your grades, you can easily get a good job even if you don’t get an Astylind. Don’t make rash decisions on an impulse,” Mr. Baryt said.

“I’m not, sir, thank you.” Ewan smiled at him then urged the female staff once more. The other staff members shook their heads; even Mr. Baryt stopped persuading him and went away with a sigh, sipping his sweet cocoa.

A few minutes later, the female staff printed out the receipt and handed it over to him after he signed a withdrawal form—he had now quit the school, it was official. He gave the receipt one look, and after confirming everything was in order, he swaggered away, skipping over the wire he tripped on before.

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Spoiler: Chapter-7 Pa

Chapter-7 Pa

“Uncle, I’ll send you my withdrawal receipt. Can you close the fees account and transfer the money into my daily account?” On the way back home, Ewan called Uncle Thain again.

“Huh! You quit?”

“Yeah, I didn’t see the need to attend anymore.”

Uncle Thain broke into a guffaw on his reply, Ewan had to keep the phone away from his ears again—laughing or scolding, this man was loud. A few moments later, his deep breath caused heavy white noise on the call.

“Okay, but you can only get the deposit they’ll refund for now. The rest you’ll get on your birthday with your inheritance. And you’ll also get a new audio from your father soon.”

Ewan’s steps came to a screeching halt; his shoes scraped the asphalt.

He even predicted this…

“I always thought you resembled your mother, how you rubbed your forehead when stressed. But you are your father’s son after all, reckless and stubborn.”

Ewan didn’t reply, the thought of getting a new audio file from his Pa clogged his head.

“I’ll hang up now, I’ll contact you once it’s done,” Uncle Thain said. Ewan replied with a mindless ‘hmm’ this time and hung up.

….

Back in his home, he slumped on the computer chair with a bowl of fried rice, bouncing his leg up and down from excitement; he was going to get another audio file from his Pa soon. After biting a spoonful of rice, he couldn’t control himself anymore, and played the first audio file he ever got to pass time.

“…It’s been a year. How have you been? Did you celebrate your birthday? Is it too soon?” It was a heavy voice with some buzz in the background.

“It’s been seven years Pa…,” Ewan murmured.

“Are you eating well? Don’t eat junk just because I’m not there. You’re a big boy now, you should be responsible for your own health.”

A bright smile sneaked up on Ewan’s face and he ate another mouthful of the fried rice he cooked at home when he heard those familiar words. They held little meaning when his Pa was alive, they even annoyed him at times…

“How’s school? You’re not ditching classes, are you? You can still learn many things there. It’s not the right time to quit.”

He knew...

But the situation was different now. The reason he quit today was because he had nothing left to learn there, at least nothing he couldn’t learn by himself. Only the promise of an Astylind made him wear that uniform each morning and bow his head to that authority. With that reason gone, he had no qualms about quitting.

His Pa hushed for a while, then sighed. “I’m sorry I let you go through all that. If I could live, I would’ve kept you safe and protected. But you’re on your own now. You’ll have to face everything by yourself. I know you have a hard life ahead of you. But…I don’t have any choice. I don’t have much time left…Forgive me, Ewan.”
Years ago, Ewan hugged his knees on the same chair and bawled his heart out when he heard his Pa, but all that remained now was a peaceful smile with a hint of remembrance, and the grain of rice stuck on his cheek.

His Pa sniffed and cleared his throat. “Also, manage your Sols well, don’t waste it on things you don’t need,” he said. “I don’t have much to tell you now. I thought of many things to talk about, but my mind’s going blank right now. I just hope you can live well. Celebrate your birthday, do what you want to do. Follow your dreams, even if I’m not with you, you’ll forever have my support.”

The audio cut, and the loop took it to the beginning again. Ewan calmed down with a deep breath and leaned back on his chair with his eyes closed, putting the bowl aside. The smile never left his face, his Pa’s voice had always soothed him. All the anxiety, fear, and doubts about his future went away. He gained the confidence to move ahead, for his Pa supported him, he had always supported him.

The notification bell rang, dimming the replaying audio, and Ewan snapped his eyes open—the new file came. He clicked the mail from Uncle Thain and saved the file before typing in the usual password, the addition of his Pa and his birth dates, and played it.

“You’re almost eighteen now, you’ve really grown up. You must’ve reached six feet by now.”

His Pa chuckled and Ewan flared his nose; he was still five-ten, but his growth spurt hadn’t stopped yet. Once he received the deposit, he would drink more milk and eat more meat; he could also hang from the railing, it would for sure give him a centimeter or two.

“And if you haven’t already, you should awaken your soul about three months prior to your birthday, you’ll soon be an Asheva. As an Ayres, your aptitude will never be below average, we’ve always made sure of that. Since the time of our progenitor, the Ayres family has been a Cerade family, every generation has had the capacity to become a Cerade. I was the same, and you won't be any different.”
He continued. “Don’t think of becoming a Cerade though, its path is crude and forever remained in the prototype state, unlike Severynth’s. Your soul aptitude might not give you as big of an advantage as a Severynth as it could as a Cerade, but it will still put you ahead of the crowd. By my estimate, you’ll have enough soul essence for at least three Astylinds when you awaken.”

The small smile on Ewan’s face had now turned into a foolish grin, from ear to ear. Hearing new words from his Pa and hearing about his ‘awesome’ talent, the fireworks went ablaze in his heart.

“You’ve left the school at this time, so I’m presuming they didn’t let you receive the Astylind after all. Don’t blame your mother for it, she will never mean you any harm, but she can't control them. It was my fault she walked away; things were complicated back then. And now that I’m gone, she’ll put all that anger on you, and others will take advantage of that. Just give her some time, she’ll come around. Also, you’ll receive something in a few days, it’s my gift to you. Happy birthday, Ewan.” He finished the sentence in a soft and gentle voice. The seeker touched the rightmost end and looped back, and Ewan sat in silence, relishing the words his father left him once more.

Yet, a roar rumbled in the courtyard and broke him away from his trance—the Fire Monkey had gone into labor.

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Spoiler: Chapter-8 Plan

Chapter-8 Plan

Ewan rushed for the courtyard, stubbing his pinky toe on the dining table, and screamed as he rocketed out the door. The monkey was already in labor, lying in a pool of watery blood, her stomach wriggling around. She growled, the end of it escaping as a feeble groan, and her eyes regained clarity—her state of self-sedation was over, she would rampage now.

Once he confirmed her situation from a safe distance, as embers sparked around her, Ewan bolted back into the house and ran out with the supplies, zipping the fire suit and clasping the belt. Given his situation with the school and the Astylind, he cooked a plan for the monkey, and it was now time to enact.

The natural delivery without any complications required no external touch for the most part, so Ewan watched her from the side, stepping back until his presence didn’t stress the monkey. The storm of fire raged around her, scorching the grass, reddening the cage, and roasting Ewan—his sweat steamed and turned the insides of the suit into a sauna. The sweltering breaths cracked his lips, parched his throat, and singed his chest, but he still stood inside the tempest of fire.

Her vulva had already stretched and swollen and had become flabby; the mucus oozed out and pooled under her. And within the next hour, as the monkey roared with another wave of rioting fire, her second layer of bag burst open. When Ewan came back from replenishing fluid and bent down to level with her, even with the distorted vision, a small head crowned from the vaginal gap to meet his gaze.

With minutes of struggle, with her tortured screams echoing in the yard, and some tongues of fire licking the height of the fence, an ugly and wrinkled baby monkey plopped out with a gush of slimy mucus. It lay silent in the cage, as Ewan’s heart was in his mouth, and then twitched and cried. He finally heaved a sigh of relief and slumped down on the scorched earth, the excessive heat scalding his butt. The weary female monkey too let go of the cage with a groan, her hands dropping by her side, and her eyes closed, the barely moving chest proving her life.

Ewan looked at the yard around —the fire still burned whatever remained in the area—and prepared to move on to the next part of his plan. Luckily, his line of work had long numbed his neighbors for any kind of disturbance in his place…
Before he could take out the knife though, the female monkey’s stomach squirmed again. And as she moaned in pain and heaved, another baby crowned from the gap. Ewan cursed out loud and dashed for the cage, grabbing the supplies. He sought theories for all sorts of problems he could face, but her having twins wasn’t one of them—he wasn’t a professional after all. Nevertheless, it didn’t change what he had to do, instead the appearance of the second baby might even bolster his plan.

No fire came out of her, she didn’t have the strength to even growl at him anymore, but she still strived to push the baby. And his job was to help her. Once he wrapped the first tiny monkey in a soft towel and put it aside safely, minding the fire flickering on his forehead, he moved to confirm the female monkey’s condition. Her vulva had dried from the hours of raging fire, so he wetted it with soap water, checked the crowning again and the position of the baby monkey, and helped her in pushing whenever she tried, keeping his hands away when she rested. When she made good progress, he switched to the other side—she pushed, and he pulled.

Drops of sweat seeped into his eyes, but he couldn’t scratch the itch; his breath burned his chest, but he couldn’t rest for a heave of cold fresh air—his headache hammered him in waves, and his sense of time blurred. Soon, when he counted minutes, but the arc of the sun showed over an hour, the second baby monkey flopped out into his hand and howled to mark its birth.

Its thin and lanky limbs, its emaciated chest, and the bony frame without a hint of meat on it contrasted its older sibling in every way possible. Not only that but even the blob of fire burning on its forehead flickered between blue and orange, dying into an ember then raging beyond its size. And once its breath stabilized and it cried, the fire stayed orange too, with not a hint of blue remaining.

Mutation…

Ewan couldn’t confirm what kind it was right now, but it didn’t matter—a mutation almost always overshadowed the norm. And he set his eyes on this little one for his plan, the plan he would now eventuate, the plan that would hurt a lot…

The rampage of the fire had calmed down as the female monkey flaked out, but its remnants still came to his waist, scorching the earth till not a hint of moisture remained in that area of the yard. But this amount of damage was far from enough, it would hardly give him any leverage against the customer. At best, she would pay for it; at worst, she would refuse to acknowledge… He needed to do much worse, a level of damage she couldn’t ignore even if she wanted to, a level of damage that their colony marked as a punishable crime.

….

With a bucket of iced water on his side, the tongues of fire reaching for him but failing short, he sliced the left sleeve of the fire suit and yanked it off, exposing his hand. His teeth grinded when he clenched his jaws, his chest tightened when he took a deep breath, and as he steeled his mind and intentions, he plunged his hand into the searing fire.

He bellowed, his roar rumbling in the yard, as a life-ending pain assaulted him, yet he didn’t pull back. Waves of agony invaded him as his hand sizzled and wafted a foul stench—of burnt skin, singed hair, and charred meat. His face flushed and reddened, his back shivered, and he growled; the torment almost knocked him out cold. He grabbed the blade of the knife, bit his tongue, slapped his face, and when he finally couldn’t bear it anymore, he took the hand back and dipped it into the iced water—it fizzled for a second then smoked. Ewan kneeled and panted before the fire, drenched in sweat, his mind barely holding on. His hand was blood-red, covered in blisters, some parts charred black; even a twitch of his fingers overwhelmed him with agony.

When Uncle Thain would find out, he would get another scolding… Ewan chuckled, still heaving and sweating bullets, soaking his collars and shoulders, and drenching his hair. If Nana found out, she might worry too…or perhaps not… He turned to look towards her house, towards her balcony, and his eyes met hers, she was crying…

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Spoiler: Chapter-9 First Astylind

Chapter-9 First Astylind

The fire had died, the smoke dissipated, the temperature came down, and only the cracked blackened earth proved the earlier rampage. The scars that the monkey left on his yard would take weeks if not months to heal. Nonetheless, it was far from the price he was willing to pay if it meant his plan would succeed.

“How long do I have to wait?” Necia asked, tapping her foot with her arms crossed, her frown deepening.

“Just a few minutes, he’s on his way,” Ewan said, adjusting the gauze around his wounds, tightening the knot with his bite.

“Why do we need him anyway? Just give me the babies, and I’ll be on my way,” she said, her nostrils flaring.

“Look at the damage, ma’am,” Ewan said. “Do you think just that many Sols are enough to pay for it?”

“That’s on you, you accepted the job knowing the risks,” she said.

“That was before your monkey hurt him,” Uncle Thain walked in from the main gate and said, pushing his black-framed glasses up, his sleeve bag rubbing against the edge of his navy suit. “Since bodily harm was done by an Astylind, it’s now an issue of criminal proceeding.”

“That’s bullshit! He kept her in the cage, she couldn’t have hurt him unless he asked for it himself,” Necia said.

“This is Ms. Necia, and this is Mr. Thain Cesar, my lawyer.” Regardless of her outburst, Ewan still introduced the two to each other.

“Ma’am, the job you paid him for didn’t just include keeping her in the cage, did it?” Uncle Thain said. “He not only helped your monkey through the tough labor, but also kept her alive in the process.”

“Fine.” She scowled. “Ten Sols, I won't pay more than that.”

“Do you think Sols can solve this problem, ma’am?” Uncle Thain asked. “His burn is from Fire-Anima. The treatment is already troublesome, but the pain is so much worse, you should know that. And regardless, he still helped your monkey survive, and even took good care of the newborns.”

“Twenty,” she said. “I won't complain about how he treated my Astylind, and you’ll forget about this matter.”

Uncle Thain chuckled. “You don’t seem to understand. Sols can't compensate his damage, you need to relinquish your claim on the newborns and give them to him, and then we’ll forget this ever occurred. There’ll be no need to get the L.E.A involved.”

“No fucking way!” She shrieked. “Call the black suits, brown suits, I don’t give a shit. I’ll see how you get away with stealing from me.”

“Ma’am, when it comes to Astylinds hurting the citizens of Obria, those black suits go haywire. They don’t listen to reason in that situation, and regardless of how the injury occurred, no matter who was at fault, they would always charge the owner of the Astylind,” Uncle Thain said. “Worst case scenario, you’ll be locked up, and your monkey will be put down. Do you wish to try your luck at that? Given the tension in our colony right now, do you think you’ll survive against the public outrage?”

“If you get involved in a situation like that, do you think your shop will survive? Will anyone ever trust you with his Astylind?” Necia said.

“That’s why the waiver exists, ma’am, which you so earnestly refused to sign. It prevents you from asking for compensation, and it prevents him from registering any complaints, it’s a win-win for both sides, but you didn’t sign it…,” Uncle Thain said. “And I could even argue before an enforcer that the reason you didn’t sign the waiver is that you didn’t want to leave a record. Maybe the source of your Astylind is problematic.”

“Horseshit! Do you think your lies will work? You don’t have any proof to back your claims,” she said, squinting, clenching her fists.

She’s got a foul mouth…

Ewan kept the words in.

“I’m just speculating, there’s no claim here,” Uncle Thain said, smiling. “It can easily be solved once you confirm your source.”

“I don’t intend to open the shop after this, so you don’t need to mind its reputation,” Ewan added from the side. “Please continue.”

“That puts my worries to rest then,” Uncle Thain said and took out his phone that had an ostentatious idol’s sticker on its back, its edges peeling a little. “Now I don’t need to mind the backlash, let’s put the issue in the public court. I’ll contact the L.E.A, they’ll take over and you won't need to deal with us.”

“Wait!” Necia yelled. “Just wait, calling the enforcers would do neither of us any good. I might get a charge, but he won't get away scot-free either, what he did here was illegal. Let’s compromise, I’ll give up one of the babies.”

“Fine,” Ewan said. “I’ll take the scrawny one.”

Necia frowned. “No, you can have the healthier one,” she said.

“Alright, as you wish,” he said, easing his attitude to confuse her more.

“No, wait…” She interrupted him as he reached for the baby monkeys.

“Can you decide already?” Ewan grumbled. “Which one do you want?”

“It’s getting late, so let me decide for you guys.” Uncle Thain interfered, and the baby monkeys hovered from their makeshift cradle and floated to him.

“Ryvia…” Necia murmured, gulping with her widened eyes wavering, and backed off a step.

“Ewan, they were hers to begin with, so be a gentleman and take a loss here,” Uncle Thain said and gently dropped the bony baby monkey in Ewan’s intact palm. “Ms. Necia, I hope this will end here. I’m being nice as long as the damage remains under my tolerance limit. If you try to cross that limit, if you test my patience, I’ll stop behaving. Do you understand me?” At the end of his words, the other baby monkey fell onto Necia’s palms, and she bobbed her head and signed the papers before scuttling away.

“If you let me suppress her from the get-go, this would’ve gone much faster,” Uncle Thain said when Necia’s back faded away from the main gate, keeping the stack of papers in his bag.

“Then you would succeed, not me,” Ewan said, caressing the baby monkey, the younger brother of the twins, with a content and a tender smile. He hugged Ewan’s finger with his bony limbs, his pink skin holding a tint of red, his long tail brushing against his wrist, and a tiny blob of orange fire flickering on the forehead—it warmed Ewan’s touch but didn’t burn him.

“Was this worth it?” Uncle Thain asked. “You know Authen wouldn’t leave you hanging, you should get some Astylinds soon. And if he did, I would’ve gotten you any that you wanted from outside. Was hurting yourself to this extent for a mere Astylind worth it?”

“It was,” Ewan said. “And not just for an Astylind, it was for the threat of criminal charges. With that hanging over their heads, they would at least back off for a while, I can spend my days in peace now.”

Uncle Thain sighed. “I’m not sure whether I should scold you or…”

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Spoiler: Chapter-10 Gift

Chapter-10 Gift

Mornings went by and Ewan took care of the baby monkey while living his days. The loss of his left hand troubled him, but it also eased the pace of his life. The already cumbersome task that it hindered the most though was feeding the monkey. He was far too small, smaller than Ewan’s palm, the normal sized milk bottles for babies couldn’t work—not even the syringes survived his feed as the little menace chewed and ripped its beak.
And so, Ewan had to buy a special tiny bottle for Astylinds online. It was a fast delivery, but it cost him one Sol, almost bleeding his heart. Even though his account balance now weighed several Sols heavier, he still couldn’t afford to splurge, not even on the food he liked to eat, for he had no source of income anymore.

Luckily, Uncle Thain called this morning and informed him about the status of the transaction, that the withdrawal refund from the school would reflect in his account by sundown.

….

The doorbell clanged when he’d just fed the monkey and sprawled on the chair in his room, resting the hurt arm on his chest. Since the shop had shut down, and the board outside mentioned it in bold letters, it couldn’t be any potential customer. So, it was either someone asking for address or someone messing around—he dragged himself up and trudged for the gate. His Pa did say he would receive a gift in a few days, so it could be that too…the thought breathed some life in his steps, and he almost trotted over.

“Mr. Ayres?” the delivery guy asked when Ewan opened the door.

“Yeah,” Ewan said, his eyes sparking.

“Please sign here, and your fingerprint.”

Ewan took the panel and did as told. After confirming his identity, the delivery guy took a small package out of his bag, the outer cover scraped around the edges, and handed it to him.

“Can I get a glass of—” Ewan slammed the door, locked it, and scuttled back to his room while eyeing the packet from all sides.

The baby monkey napped on his bed, his tiny chest with some new fur rising and falling peacefully. Without disturbing him, Ewan tore the package and took out a metallic cube from inside. It also had a note stuck on it, ‘Drop your blood,’ it wrote. It was his Pa’s writing; he recognized the dropping tail of ‘D’ his Pa liked to extend.

Ewan sliced his finger on a gleaming edge of the cube and let his blood smear its surface. The red blob dispersed into fine lines on the metal surface, thinning by the second. And when the cube absorbed all the blood he gave, the box clicked open and its top slid aside, baring the black key that rested on the velvet bed inside. Its grooves ran different from the usual electronic keys, it resembled runes more than simple notches.

He picked it up, mulling over where to use it. There wasn’t any locked room in the house, no special place that it could open either. But as seconds went by, as he looked around the room and hall, the key warmed and chilled his touch—it heated up when he brought it to the sliding door that led to the backyard and cooled down when he walked away.
This back area was smaller than the middle courtyard but bigger than the average garden. It had a dirty pond to the left and an overgrown white blossom tree rooted by its side. Its crown towered above the fence; fallen white petals covered the grass below. There was also a shed to the right; attached to the corner of the house but its entrance was from the backyard.

Ewan shifted towards the shed, and the key heated up. The battered shed that only held a faint resemblance of its past sparked a hint of nostalgia as he looked around. It was steps away from where he lived yet it had been years since he stepped foot in it.

The shed door clicked as he neared; it opened on its own. Ewan gulped, not minding his flinch from the click. All these events spooked him a little, but this was his Pa’s setup. So, he went in.

The inside lay bare. Except for a dusty floor, browned leaves, glass shards from the cracked window, and withered branches, it had nothing, but the key almost scalded his skin in here. He took one step in, and the key shot out of his hand and into the right wall, fitting in a hole. Ewan stood where he was and gaped as a new door carved into the wall, its contours and edges matching the style of his mansion—this wall connected the house to this shed.

He took a deep breath and opened it, and a dark stairway greeted him with a musty stench. The tubes on the ceiling flickered and lit up one by one, lighting the path down. He followed the only path available, and soon, a huge basement ballooned before him, dazzling him with its harsh milky lighting—he shaded his eyes and squinted. Its white metal walls bounced the light off and blazed the place; it was too bright.
The total area it covered was huge, beyond the boundary of his house. It covered most of his neighbors too.

The whole basement was empty except for the large table at the center and a control panel in one corner. Ewan surveyed the whole place when the radiance didn’t sting his eyes, gaping, and heaving. His house sat on something this huge…his Pa really knew how to surprise him.

After a few minutes, when he digested it all, he moved to the table—there were a few items on it.

A black full finger claw-ring with a sharp and pointy tip, it could fit his index finger; an old audio player; two old booklets with rough black hardcovers; a human-head sized blue egg covered in runes; a fist-sized ivory egg also covered in runes; and a dried walnut like seed.

Everything on the table tickled Ewan’s curiosity, but he reigned it in and played the audio player first—it was an old design, with no function to connect to any network, wired or otherwise.

“Ewan, this’ll be the last time you hear from me.” After a bit of static, the audio played.

His chest twinged as he heard his Pa.

“You’ve grown up, you need to find your own path now. I’m already a past, I can't be in your future. Remember, you’ll only have yourself to rely on, and Nana too if you wish to honor the old promise. Forget it if you don’t, it’s better to end the cycle of bitterness with my generation. Base your future with her on trust and care, not benefits and interest, let that end with me…”

Her sobbing image on the balcony flashed before him, and he sighed, sitting by the table with his back against its leg, his head resting on the wood—the audio played on the table.

“What I’ll tell you, keep it in mind, but destroy all evidence of it. Destroy this tape and the player, never let anyone else know about it. Please Ewan, be careful with this one.”

Ewan sat in silence; his eyes closed.

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Spoiler: Chapter-11 Inheritance

Chapter-11 Inheritance

“The wealth I left behind, everything you lost, none of it matters, not even Sunbird. All that you see on this table; this is my true inheritance I left for you. This is our family’s true inheritance,” he said. “I have confidence in my setup. But in case I failed and you’re not Ewan, I hope you take what’s here and let my son go. You only need a drop of his blood to activate the artifact, you won't need him for anything beyond that. This is my plea; I hope you comply. If you harm him in any way though, you may come to live a life worse than death, I’ll make sure of that.”

Ewan chuckled. “It’s me, Pa.”

The audio remained quiet for a moment then resumed. “But I hope my plans succeeded and you’re Ewan. I’ll continue assuming that.”

“The two booklets contain the spell circuits, <Contract> and <Identify>. Don’t use the ones available for free out there, those are garbage. Even the ones you pay for can't compare to our family’s spell circuits. Our ancestors, generation after generation, researched and created them. Our <Contract> spell circuit boasts a hundred percent success rate, while our <Identify> has a database that all our ancestors enriched with their knowledge.”

As far as Ewan’s memory went, their family was no more. His maternal relatives were a dime a dozen, they’d even crowded that roomy funeral hall. But he had no paternal relatives left. His father mentioned his grandpa and grandma sometimes, that they died when he was mere a teen. But that was about it. Beyond the bits of fond memories he recounted, Ewan knew nothing about them.

“I’ve left you three Astylinds, the two eggs and the seed. With your aptitude, you should have enough soul essence to contract them all at once, I’m confident. They’re in a suspended state, so you’ll need a lot of blood to awaken them.”

The tape went silent again for a few seconds. “They don’t need your blood, anyone’s will work.” He almost sounded flustered.

“The seed and the blue egg are descendants of my own Astylinds, they’re my gift to you. While the white egg is handed down in our family, it’s a special Astylind. On Airadia, and maybe even in the whole universe, only our family has it now, our forefathers made sure of that. You’ll get a memory inheritance if you initiate the contract process with it, so I won't go into details. But I’ll warn you, this Astylind is a double-edged sword. Our ancestors prospered because of it, and they died because of it. Even if it didn’t have anything to do with their deaths, it still played a role in it.”

He heaved a deep sigh and continued, “I hope you skip it, don’t contract it. But I’ll leave the final decision to you. Whatever you choose, I’ll support you. If you do decide to contract it, use your spirit not the spell.”

“Aside from the Astylinds, I’ve left you a special spell circuit inside the claw-ring. My father, your grandpa, envisioned the idea and created the framework. And I completed it and used it to build myself up. The details you’ll find in its book. It’s my finest creation, I know you’ll be proud. Haha.”

The tape continued. “As for the claw-ring, it’s also a legacy handed down in our family. It’s a storage artifact. I’ve sealed up most of its space so you can use it too. Once your soul is strong enough, you can push the seal back. You can also increase its size using other storage artifacts and materials.”

“That will be all. I leave everything up to you now. I hope it helps you with whatever you want to do. One last thing. Whatever happens in the future, always remember that you are and will forever be my son. It’s a fact that no one can change. No matter what you do, what you become, that won't change.”

After a bit of silence, he resumed, “I had the DNA test done to confirm that. HAHAHA!”

Ewan laughed, his eyes getting misty. Even in the face of death, his father never lost his perverted sense of humor.

….

The well-timed jest ended the audio, and Ewan sat with his head down and his eyes closed. Once he half-digested everything, he stood up and pocketed the player. His Pa asked him to destroy the tape and the player, but he didn’t want to do it. His Pa’s voice was his crutch, and he wasn’t ready to give it up. He knew the risks he was taking, but he didn’t want to relent on this. Once he became a Severynth, he could keep this player and the rest of the audio in the claw-ring, only death could separate it from him at that point. And once he died, he wouldn’t care about someone finding out the secret anyway.

For the other items on the table, he left the claw-ring and the Astylinds as they were and grabbed the books before heading out—he couldn’t use them before his soul awakened, they were safer here. Now, he needed to practice the new spell circuits.
Once back in the shed, he closed the door and took out the key. Without it, the door seams vanished. The wall smoothened with not a gap in sight, except for the hole for the key.

…

…

…

Hours went by as evening approached.

The chores of the house eluded him with the genuine excuse of his arm, so he just fed the baby monkey and practiced drawing the spell circuits on his notebook for the day. He’d practiced the ones on the public site before, but these two were far more complex. And by sundown, the continuous practice hammered him with a brain-splitting headache. So, he stopped and went up to the balcony with the baby monkey in his arm.

He sat there, relaxed, his legs stretched on the recliner. His left hand surged with waves of pain, but he learned to ignore it.

Gentle wind caressed his face, his neck, his shoulders. The baby monkey hugged his finger and looked at him with his black beady eyes, his large nostrils steaming from time to time. The tiny blob of orange fire on his forehead flickered with the wind, but it flamed stronger than ever. With the nutrients in, his limbs now looked stronger. He still couldn’t compare to his sibling, but he carried a healthier tone.

I should name him…

Ewan looked down at the baby monkey.

“Orange?” He glanced at his fire and named him such. “Yeah, you’ll be Orange from now on.” Ewan beamed and finalized the monkey’s name. The baby monkey, now named Orange, released two childish hoots, and buried his face in Ewan’s palm, drooling all over his hand.

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Spoiler: Chapter-12 Awakening

Chapter-12 Awakening

Next morning, the first thing Ewan did was stock up on food, lots of food. He received the refund late last night, around fifty Sols, and it bolstered his balance a fair bit. Its addition to the previous number was enough for quite some time now. And if he was frugal with it, it could last him till his birthday.

The delivery of the groceries came quick, the bulging paper bags barely holding their contents. It had been a few weeks since he ate a proper meal, so he stored the items in the refrigerator and picked out a rack of lamb to cook. Since he could only use one hand, he went slow. The seasoned and spiced meat browned on all sides with time and patience, then a block of compound butter with some onions and garlic cloves elevated its flavor—he basted it, struggling with one hand, till it reached the apt temperature.

Once it had rested enough, he took it to the dining table in the kitchen and enjoyed it. Orange sat on the table with his milk bottle, eyeing the piping hot rack of meat.

“You can't eat this, drink your milk.” Ewan grabbed the bone and ripped a bite with his teeth. The meat was tender and moist, it almost melted in his mouth. He savored the flavor with his eyes closed, bite by bite he ate, relishing every bit of it.

Once he finished it, he left the plate and the dishes in the already full sink and washed his hand and mouth. One day, he would clean it up, he promised himself, one day for sure...

….

The sun peaked for the day, and he continued practicing drawing the spell circuits. Because he practiced the public ones before, he made good progress with his family’s. Orange sat on the table, cackling at him from time to time. Sometimes he rolled around in front of Ewan, sometimes he jumped on the notebook and played with his pen.

He never had any pets, so this new situation weirded him out. Nevertheless, the smile he bore now was wider and brighter than before. He always liked to be alone, but that was because he didn’t like meeting or socializing with other people. Orange was different, however. His mind was a clean sheet; Ewan didn’t need to be on guard against him.

His Pa told him once that Severynths mostly treated their Astylinds in two ways. One kind treated them as pure tools, they didn’t hesitate in sacrificing their Astylinds if the situation called for it, though the impact of it on their path would be steep. While the other kind treated them as family—Ewan moved towards the second path.

Once his hands ached and eyes blurred from practicing, he took Orange with him to the second-floor balcony. Sprawling on the recliner, he closed his eyes and took a breather. Aside from deciding whether to contract the special Astylind or not, he also had to think about the path he would take as a Severynth.

Elemental runes would form in Severynths’ soul space based on the element of their contracted Astylinds. If Ewan made a contract with Orange, a fire-element rune would form in his soul space.
Unlike Astylinds and other Starons, Humans couldn’t manipulate Anima by default. Even the best of the talents faced resistance in their bodies once they controlled the Anima. And resistance from one element was bad enough, if they used different elements, their Anima would also clash against each other; the friction produced would reduce the efficiency and the final effect of the spells—this was why many Severynths majored in only one element even when they contracted Astylinds of different elements.

Mr. Worth once mentioned, off the record, that Ashevas used certain physique modification techniques to overcome the resistance. The techniques he talked about were for single elements, he knew nothing about the method to overcome the friction of multiple elements.

After Ewan contracted every Astylind his father prepared for him, he would form multiple elemental runes in his soul space as well. And so, without any alternative, he also had to choose one element to major in from those elements.

He looked down at Orange and met his glossy eyes.

Fire?

The fire element didn’t fit well with his intentions. He always planned to become a supporting spellcaster to his Astylinds, and the offensive nature of the fire element didn’t match his plan.
Since his exposure to the Severynth path, he gave his combat style a lot of thought. In his class, many of his classmates aspired to be a vanguard, Ewan preferred the opposite.

They had their Astylinds to take charge of the front line, becoming a vanguard themselves would instead hamper their ability to command the team. Severynths were after all the conductors—they directed the Astylinds with their thoughts and controlled the battlefield. Their presence sang the loudest when they remained in the back, at least the traditional method dictated so.

As his mind took him on a tour, Orange snored on his chest. He grabbed Ewan’s t-shirt with his tiny palms and drooled all over him, the wet patches from his saliva spreading away. The warm sun made Ewan drowsy too, so he closed his eyes and let go of all his worries. He preferred these relaxing days, when the growls of his stomach didn’t remind him of his crisis, and the weight on his chest promised him certainty.

And with a smile on his face, he napped on the recliner.

“I hope I awaken soon…,” he murmured.

……

Steaming slabs of meat surrounded him, salivating aroma of spices tingled his nose. There were different types of meat, from his favorite cut to his least liked, even the premium Astylind meat lined before him. He could never afford them with the money he had, but here they were, enticing him with their flavorsome smell. He couldn’t resist anymore, and so, he grabbed the tastiest looking meat that he could reach and bit into it.

And he retched, almost vomiting everything out. It was sickening sweet, far too much, it even numbed his tongue.

The aroma of all the meat now turned into a sugary fragrance. One meat hooted at him, then another hooted twice. One by one, all the meat around him hooted like Orange.

Orange?

The thought jolted him awake, rattling the recliner’s legs, as he grabbed the railing for balance. The blood-red sun had verged on the horizon, the afterglow still lingering after its departure. And the two moons, violet and silver, were already up and ready to spend the night with the Airadians.

His drool dripped down the side of his mouth while Orange lay on his chest and called him out in his childish voice. His nose twitched, the sugary smell from his dream followed him out. It was sickening sweet around him, as if someone threw kilos of powdered sugar on him.

Sweet?

He jerked up, catching Orange with his right hand. This was it, his soul awakened.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

 

Spoiler: Chapter-13 Growth

Chapter-13 Growth

A few deep breaths calmed him down, though the same led the syrupy fragrance to tingle his nose and sweeten his throat. Though he was almost sure of it, he now needed to confirm whether his soul actually awakened or not. And if it did, he needed to finish the further initiation procedures as soon as he could. After all, the longer he waited, the lower his chances would be, though the decline counted in months and years...

He closed his eyes and traced the <Identify> spell circuit in his mind—the one from the public site. He still wasn’t proficient enough with his family’s spells, he couldn’t use them for now. And because he only needed it to open his soul space, the old spell sufficed.

His hands had learned this spell circuit for many years, even the new versions they released only changed a small part, the database, and he digested them after a few hours of practice at max. Yet, practicing on paper and tracing it in his mind was different. Whenever he tried to do it before, the further he went, the more the earlier parts of the spell circuit blurred out; he couldn’t create any effect with it. But now, every stroke, every line, every curve he traced, remained vivid. This proved, beyond a shred of doubt, that his soul awakened.

But the fact didn’t distract him, he didn’t let it. And he marched ahead, bit by bit, his effort shaped the circuit. Going slow but steady, Ewan finally finished it. And with his final touch, a shockwave blasted from the circuit—it hammered his head as it gouged a space in his mind. His nose bled but a smile tugged on his face, he succeeded.

This space was his soul space. It was dark, there was nothing there. But this was his base, the beginning of his life as a Severynth, an Asheva.

Because he used the spell on himself, his details popped up in front of him; only for his eyes to see.

Status: Malnourished | Injured

Step-0: Soul Awakening [1st Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Astylinds: 0 [Potential: 4]

Equipment: Common Clothes.

The intangible screen amazed him, his hand phased through it when he touched it. But it was there, he could see it.

It took him a while to calm his thumping heart down. A plethora of ideas shuffled through his mind, but he first had to do the important stuff. He ran down the stairs with Orange stuffed inside his sweatshirt pocket and went to the backyard. He had tied the key to his neck like a pendant with a black thread, and when he neared the shed, it heated up. He took it off and repeated the same process.

Down in the basement, he wore the black claw-ring on his right index finger. It was a bit loose, but he could fix that later with some adjustments—hammer and heat would work wonders.

With its sharp tip, he pricked his left index finger that came out of the bandages and smeared his blood on the length of the claw-ring. The red stayed on the black surface for a second, then the metal sucked it in. A memory imprint popped into his mind as soon as the claw-ring booted—his Pa had left the imprint. It explained everything there was to know about the artifact. How to use it, how to break the seals, how to increase the size inside, everything. The claw-ring also adjusted its curve to fit Ewan’s finger while he went through the imprint.

A few moments later, he finished sorting through all the information. For now, he only needed to know how to use the artifact, the rest would come in use later.

He used his ‘spirit’ and scanned inside. The space was about two meters cube in volume with churning gray fog enveloping it from all sides. It had three black-hardcover books, one white-hardcover book, one reddish-hardcover book, a bulging pouch, a sheathed dagger, and a silver metal dishware. He left them all in the claw-ring for now.

After glancing at the three Astylinds on the table, he left the basement. He needed to practice the two necessary spell circuits; he could go through the inventory after he mastered them.

….

A week went by, the sickening sweet smell around Ewan eased by the day. The sixth day after the awakening, he couldn’t smell anything anymore.

The last seven days, he did nothing but practice the spell circuits. He didn’t even spare any time for his hygiene these days. And only today when he took a bath, he noticed his changed body in the foggy mirror. The sick skin-and-bones physique was a memory of the past, he was now much healthier in comparison. The muscles covered his bare ribs, his limbs were sturdier, his skin was rosy, and his eyes glistened.

The Ewan in the mirror was almost a stranger to him. The shiny wet raven hair falling to his forehead, the muscles curving on his shoulders, the shape of his arm’s muscles—he became a fan of himself. The only black mark in all this was his bandaged hand. If not for that, he would look perfect right now.

And the narcissist in him reared his head in his full glory with a wide grin.

While admiring himself, he noticed the height he had reached in the mirror, and his heart bloomed with expectation. He raced out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his navel and measured his height at the marks he made on the wall. He finally stood at sixth mark, at six feet; it was even a little over…

Orange, who jumped around on the keyboard, stared at him and hooted after seeing his foolish smile. After seven days, he had also grown. He was now the size of Ewan’s palm.

“Let’s go out today, let’s go for a treat.”

Orange frolicked around and cackled while Ewan changed his clothes.

….

The sky had darkened, and the streetlamps lit their way when they returned home after a sumptuous meal in a restaurant.

“Whaf can I fo? You can’f eaf anyfhing yef.” Orange hooked his mouth by the side and bit his earlobe, growling with childish throat. In the restaurant, while he ate a filling meal, Orange could only drink milk by the side, glaring at him. Even the bouncy sisters that came to pamper him couldn’t elicit a hoot. And thus, Ewan suffered from his attacks all the way back. Why did it feel like he was a helpless father of a child now…

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

 

Spoiler: Chapter-14 Elementalist—The Path of Anima

Chapter-14 Elementalist—The Path of Anima

A few days later.

Ewan heaved a huge sigh of relief when he finished the final stroke of the spell circuit on the notebook. Mistakes riddled the pages along the way, but he finally did it. He was now proficient enough to cast his family’s spells. And so, without further ado, he traced the new <Identify> spell in his soul space. His aim was Orange, who played with the pen before him.

He went slow with steady curves, and soon, he got the results.

[Astylind Name: Fire Monkey (Mutant)]

[Astylind Level: Level-0]

[Astylind Grade: Grade-D]

[Anima Affinity: Fire]

[Gender: Male]

[Description: Natives of Airadia. They are blessed with decent fire-element affinity (Recipient) but lack the skills to make use of it.]

[Grade-Exalt Requirements: Astylind Core (Fire), Blood-Firos Leaves, Fire Coral, Volcanic Rock.]

[Remark 1: Can be trained as a vanguard but require more attention with the elemental skills.]

[Remark 2: They look cool, can make them your mascot.]

[Remark 3: I agree with the second remark.]

Those remarks…. He didn’t know what to comment on that. On the bright side, at least his forefathers were fun people…
Once he read through the important details, especially the upgrade requirements, he closed the screen with a smug smile on his face.

Knowledge and information were important resources in any field. They could give him an edge over his enemies or friends. Thus, he was ecstatic to see the detailed description his family’s spell provided—the public spell paled in comparison with its limited information. It only gave him Orange’s species name, his level, his grade, his affinity, and his gender. There was no description, let alone any grade upgrade requirements and remarks. It didn’t even mention anything about his mutation.

After Orange, his thought led him to wonder about his own details with the new spell. Last time he saw his data was when he opened his soul space, and that was using the public spell. His family’s spell provided much more data, so he wondered if he could see more details in his status screen. So, he traced the spell circuit in his soul space again and aimed at himself. In the end, he made no mistakes and succeeded.

Status: Injured | Nutrient Deficient

Step-0 [1st Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 0.8

Spirit: 1.3

Anima: 0

Astylinds: 0 [Potential: 4]

Equipment: Common Clothes.

Storage: Three black-hardcover books; white-hardcover book; red-hardcover book; Pouch; dagger; silver metal dishware.

Novas: ??
Sol: 61

Ewan expected more data, but this was beyond anything he imagined. No one had ever mentioned numerical stats like that before, neither the fellow students nor the teachers in the school hinted at them. The spell even displayed the Sols he had in his account. And the ‘Storage’ part—the spell used his memory to display these details. If not, it wouldn’t have given those items in the claw-ring such vague terms.

But what was ‘Novas’…
He still had too much to learn about the new world he had entered after all. As a newbie, he was eager but didn’t fret. Because of his Pa, his beginning was already miles ahead of many others, he only needed to take one step at a time.

….

Now that he had practiced the spells, he checked the items in the claw-ring. He could cast the <Contract> spell now, so he could contract Orange, but he waited. He had opened his soul space anyway; he wasn’t in any hurry.

He took out the bulging pouch and placed it on the table—it was the size of his head. When he stretched its mouth open, the pile of glazed stones gleamed in the diffused sunlight. White, red, brown, there were stones of three different colors in the pouch, and of random sizes.

Anima Crystals?

He took out one white stone and used the <Identify> spell again.

[Item Name: Anima Crystal (Ice)]

[Item Description: Concentrated Ice-Anima in crystal form.]

[Remark: Money!!!]

Ewan’s lips twitched at the remark, but he tried to ignore it this time.

They were indeed Anima Crystals. His Pa never showed one to him, but his teacher once brought a rice grain sized crystal to show to the class. It was orange, he recalled, it was of the fire element.

Anima recovery and currency; these were their two main uses. Ewan understood the recovery part, but he never fathomed the currency one. They came in all different sizes, so how did Starons determine their exact value… Perhaps by weight…he shook his head and moved on.

He kept the pouch in the claw-ring again and took out the dagger. After unsheathing the wooden scabbard, the naked dagger bared itself. The straight black blade stretched to a width of three fingers, albeit of an emaciated man—it mirrored his face and a groove ran on its spine.

[Item Name: Obsidian Dagger]

[Item Description: Dagger made of obsidian ore.]

[Remark 1: Will retain the edge forever. Unless the blade breaks, it will never become dull.]

[Remark 2: It will kill.]

Ewan fiddled around with it, he checked the edge on some simple items near him, and it sliced everything like butter. And once he had his fill of fun, once the items around him were in pieces, he sheathed it and put it back in the space storage.

Next, he brought out one of the black-hardcover books—the thick spine filled his grip, and the velvet cover soothed his touch. Spell circuits filled the first few pages; their descriptions, their details, and the related runes verified it as a Spellbook. And it relieved Ewan, as he wanted to buy some basic spells but had no idea where to begin with.
He was a complete newbie and had no connection to any of the actual Asheva’s community. Even though his shop dealt with some Severynths, they only had one leg in that world, most only dipped a mere toe. When he asked some of his regulars about it, they also made guesses, none of which could survive a single round of scrutiny.

Even his teachers knew nothing of it, or at least they weren’t willing to tell them. Instead, they all encouraged the students to join the defense force, the War Dogs. That was the only known way for someone like him to contact the other Ashevas. Most students chose this route, but he wasn’t willing to do that. There were too many restrictions; he didn’t want those chains.

He flipped the pages and skimmed the spell details. But after going through some pages, he sped up and only checked the element of the spells. Once he reached the end, he snapped it shut with his heart racing. The spells in the book were of nine elements—Ice, Wind, Wood, Blood, Dark, Lightning, Earth, Water, and Mystic.

This imaged two scenarios: either the old man left him spells of different elements to increase his options to major in, or he wanted him to use all the spells. If the second scenario was true, then he must’ve left something to tackle the problem of resistance and friction—his Pa would do so for sure. Ewan gently put the book back in the storage, keeping it away and safe from the dagger, and brought out the red-hardcover book.

This wasn’t it; the book contained a spell called <Bloodlust>. It sounded intriguing, but its details could come later—the previous thought had his head occupied.

He put it back in the storage, again away from the blade, and brought out the white-hardcover book; it detailed a spell circuit named <Transmute>. This wasn’t it either, so he put it aside and brought out another book—it was one of the black-hardcover books.

There was a single sentence on its cover written in ‘Atarin’—the universal language used to bend the elements.

‘Eterien Sien Trian.’
‘Eight Steps to Permanence’, it translated to common tongue.

Its words provoked him, they hinted at what he dreamt of, but Ewan let it go for now, grunting a deep breath, and took out the last black-hardcover book. And finally, it had what he wanted to see, though not exactly in the way he imagined.

‘Elementalist—The Path of Anima’, the header wrote in bold letters. Its preface talked of a circuit, the envisioned idea, its limitation, and its result—a subtype of Severynth. And it all began with the modification of the body to accommodate the Anima.

-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------

 

Spoiler: Chapter-15 Pride

Chapter-15 Pride

Ewan took his time and read through all the details in the book, and it was fascinating to say the least. It pictured a different state of a Severynth, where the conductor became the vanguard and the Astylinds became the support. An ‘Elementalist’, as the book named it, was a subtype unique to the Ayres family. It took the path of Anima and pushed it to the extreme—it was the peak form of an elemental type spellcaster.

And it all began with the modifications, inside and out.

There were two main layers for the modification part that he had to repeat for each major step. First was the ‘Heart of Anima’, and what followed was the ‘Body of Anima’.

After completing the first layer, the ‘Heart of Anima’ would reduce the friction between the Anima of different elements. It would act as the foundation and would allow him to practice the second layer, ‘Body of Anima’. With the friction between the elements gone, the second layer would adjust his body to all the elements and reduce the resistance for each of them.

The completion of each cycle for each step would open the path to the parallel level of the ‘Elementalist’.

Once Ewan skimmed through all these details a few times—the modification part, the circuit setup, the choice of the mainstay element, the limitation of only one Astylind per element, etc., he closed the book and digested it all with his eyes shut. If he had to explain the book in simple words, it would be ‘money burner’. The resources needed to complete even one layer of modification was beyond the reach of a normal Obria citizen; the general market couldn’t even list most of them on a good day.

He took a deep breath with a heavy heart—it was better to put this aside for now, he could think about practicing it once he could buy those items. Thus, he kept it back in the claw-ring and brought out the other thick black-hardcover book; the sentence written on top of it had piqued his interest.

‘Eterien Sien Trian.’

Once he flipped the first page, the tiny lines of information contained inside overwhelmed him. This book was actually an amalgamation of his family’s experiences; it was a journal bundled with Potioneering details, including several recipes scattered through the steps. Even his Pa’s words were in it, Ewan recognized his curvy strokes and those lingering tails.

The first few pages detailed all the vital and minor information he needed to know about the starting line—the Step-0.

Nine awakenings, five innates.

‘Dekoth/Aokoth | Ryvia | Sindra/Grein | Bralek | Varos’

He read through them all.

Once he finished the first part, all that escaped him was a sigh of comfort. He was all on his own in this world, yet he didn’t feel alone anymore. Even in death, his family, his Pa, they were supporting their next generation. Bit by bit, a hint of pride for his name took root in his heart. His name was Ayres, that alone gave him a huge advantage.

He continued reading and skimmed the second part. Many details were beyond him, so he had no choice but to skip them.
Leaning on the table, he browsed what he could and gained some perception of the levels. Eight steps to permanence, the sentence stood true to its core. There were eight steps for Ashevas with the final step leading to perpetuity.

The increased lifespan per level, Ewan yearned to confirm that. Most of his will to live and survive came from his dream of a longer life. And the information in the book cemented that.

As a Severynth of the Soul-Awakening step, he was no different from the Kyrons—the mortals; his soul couldn’t tolerate the life-extending rite. But once he broke through to the next step, once he treaded the steps of the rite, his soul and body would strengthen enough to bear the burden of the last extension. And with the completion of the Step-1 rite, depending on his choice for the final section, his lifespan could soar up to over two hundred years…

….

Once he finished the book, he stretched his arms and legs, his joints popped, and lounged back on the chair. His eyes closed and a smile on his face, he took his time and savored the delight that came from knowing his dream could succeed.

He remained still for minutes; Orange sprawled on the table and Ewan also didn’t feel like moving right now. But there were two books he hadn’t read yet. So, he put the black book in his claw-ring and picked the red-hardcover book.

The spell <Bloodlust> was as its name suggested. It was of the blood element and used Blood-Anima. It worked by accumulating the aura of blood, or as some called it—aura of death. The more he killed, the more that aura would taint him. It was invisible and useless, it neither helped nor hindered; only those with special spells or skills could notice it. But this spell could make use of that idle resource.

Its use was in amplifying the overall physical prowess of the target. The more the aura of blood the caster had, the stronger the effect of the spell would be. The only side effect was the target would fall into a frenzy, lusting after blood and death—they had to kill.

Ewan found his Pa’s note on the page that detailed the side effect. ‘Don’t stop your Astylinds,’ he wrote. ‘They will obey you, but you’ll hurt them.’

The words threw him into a chaos of emotions. He thought about many things related to his awakening before, but killing someone wasn’t on his list. He’d suffered these last few years, but overall, he lived a sheltered and peaceful life. The sky-high walls protected them all, the laws kept the peace alive, and most acted civil.

Yet, the outside world followed the concept of survival of the fittest. Beyond the walls, there was no law, and once he stepped out, he would be on his own. No fairness, no sympathy—inside, the laws protected the weak; outside, they died a gruesome death.

The presence of such protection never dawned on him, but the spell showed him the reality. And if he wanted to advance on his journey, he had to go out; there was no other way.

When faced with such a situation though, could he kill or would he hesitate… He hoped he had the mental fortitude to do whatever necessary to survive. But regardless of what he thought or hoped, only time could give him his answer. And besides, the spell needed Blood-Anima, he had to contract an Astylind of the blood-element first to cast it. For now, he could only let the book collect dust.

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Spoiler: Chapter-16 Starting Line

Chapter-16 Starting Line


Ewan picked the final book with the white hardcover and flipped through it. His Pa mentioned a spell he created with his grandpa’s idea and framework; his expectations bubbled with those words.

But when he finished the introduction part of the book, his face soured.

He rubbed his forehead and took deep breaths, and double checked to confirm he’d read right. He went back and reread the introductions, and the same words, the same content, repeated. His heart raced, and his heaves parched his throat; it itched when he gulped, and his rushing blood rang his ears. His Pa and his grandpa had created an outrageous spell, and he had no idea how they did it. This was the work of two geniuses, but he couldn’t praise them, for they left the hot potato to him.

If he exercised caution with it though, it would be a huge help, he iterated in his head. Yes, he just needed to hide it well…

<Transmute>, a non-elemental spell like <Identify> and <Contract>; it required no Anima, and Ewan could use it with his ‘Spirit’ alone. But its enormous value lay in its effect.

The spell could create anything by guzzling other equivalent items. At worst, it could become a way to earn profits through selling an expensive item made from sacrificing cheaper items. And at best, it would give him unlimited access to rare finds…

Thinking of what might happen if someone knew of it, his heart skipped beats, and he sweated.

Erring on the side of caution, he shut the book tight. He first put the dozed off Orange to bed then hurried down to the basement. After he closed the door and confirmed the security of the place, checking the latch several times, he sat by the table. And with the book on his knees, he continued where he left off.

The main point of the spell was equivalency, quality and quantity wise. A piece of stone couldn’t create Crelith, no matter how many he used. There was a minimum requirement for the quality with respect to the desired item. If he fulfilled that, Ewan could use the quantity and get whatever item he wanted.

The sacrificed items would also bear the burden of the spell, so its ‘Spirit’ requirement was low. The ‘low’ mentioned in the book was from the standard of his grandpa and his Pa though, the minimum ‘Spirit’ needed far surpassed his current state. But it was only a matter of time. Till then, he could practice tracing the spell circuit; it was quite complex after all, much more than any he’d seen so far.

There was one unknown item left in his claw-ring—the metal dishware. But he left it alone for now. He received too much shock from the books already, it made him uneasy. Regardless of how precious the item was, he couldn’t pay any attention to it. He only wanted to gain some strength right now, he was naked without any ability to protect himself.

So, the next task was forming contracts with the Astylinds.

He only wanted to contract Orange before and leave the other three alone for now. His urgent need for money was over, but he didn’t have enough to sustain that many lives. He wanted to wait till his birthday and contract them once he received his inheritance. But the situation changed his decision. He didn’t want to wait; he couldn’t afford to wait. At most, he could become thrifty and stingy with his daily expenses—he wouldn’t eat out anymore.

…..

Late evening, in the hall.

Ewan sat cross-legged on the wooden floor and had Orange sit in front of him, and the Obsidian Dagger was out and ready in his bandaged hand. A few deep breaths eased the butterflies in his stomach, and he traced the <Contract> spell in his soul space—his strokes were snail-paced but steady as he aimed for perfection. His lines left no mistakes behind, they carried the essence of a textbook example, and once he reached the final part, he slit his right wrist with the dagger, wincing from the sharp pain. After one smooth strike, as the blade bit his skin and flesh, blood spluttered from his cut and streamed down to the floor, pooling into a blood-red puddle.

The only downside of his family’s <Contract> spell—it needed a lot of blood. For that hundred percent success rate though, to prevent the Astylind’s subconscious resistance, Ewan disregarded the negative.

His face paled and his back trembled—the blood was enough now. He gritted his teeth and finished the last stroke of the spell, and as soon as it took effect, the broken skin of his wound glued together, leaving a stain of red. The blood he shed on the floor hovered up, and all the droplets formed a vague shape of the <Contract> spell circuit in the air. And after flashing with a blood-tint, it turned into mist threads and cocooned Orange.

Rays of red sunlight poured in through the window as the hall became ghost quiet. Tiny dust particles floated in those pillars of light; the broken showerhead leaked in the bathroom; the intermittent fall of the droplets echoed in the hushed hall.
Ewan had his eyes closed while the blood mist enveloped Orange—both sides made no moves.

Seconds passed, and the blood cocoon thinned a little. At the same time, a thread of thought connected to his soul; it was faint but noticeable. There was no resistance, the cocoon thinned more, and the connection became stronger. Thread by thread, the blood cocoon dissolved.

The contract burned a part of his soul essence. And since nothing supported his soul, a sense of breathlessness and emptiness engulfed him. He gasped for air, struggled to sit straight, but the next instant, his spine tingled, and a comforting strength bubbled inside him. It nurtured him, nourished him; it washed away all the negative impact on his soul.

A feeble mind also connected to him, and it wasn’t just a mere thread of thought anymore—it was Orange in his entirety. The little monkey stared at him with his head tilted to the side. Ewan sensed his confusion but gave no explanation; he couldn’t understand anyway. He only relished his success for he finally contracted his first Astylind. Their connection was at its weakest right now, but it would strengthen over time.

His soul space went through some changes as well—an orange-colored rune shaped like an upside down ‘V’ appeared in it. It carried a metallic sheen and emanated the feeling of Flamecrest at its peak, those torrid and sweaty afternoons. After it formed, some warm orange particles manifested around him. He couldn’t see them but could only feel them up to a certain range. They drifted about in the hall; some entered his body, while most went to Orange. His new rune absorbed all that came to him and glowed with a gentle orange halo.

This was his Fire-Element Rune, it provided him with a Recipient-level affinity. And the particles around him were Fire-Anima, they proved his ability to cast fire spells. Though he only stood at the starting line, he was a proper Severynth from this moment on, he was one of the Ashevas—the Eternals.

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Spoiler: Chapter-17 Dekoth

Chapter-17 Dekoth

Status: Injured | Nutrient Deficient | Hypovolemia

Step-0 [1st Awakening]

Name: Ewan Ayres

Species: Human

Vitality: 0.8

Spirit: 1.3

Anima: [Fire – 0.1]

Astylinds: 1 [Potential: 3]

:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-0] [Grade-D]


Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; silver metal dishware.

Novas: ??
Sol: 61





Ewan checked his details as soon as he regained enough strength to cast <Identify>. There were several changes on the screen this time, his status even showed his three issues—his injured hand, his lack of healthy intake, and his recent loss of blood. The problem of nutrient deficiency would go away on its own now that he could afford proper food, but the other two required either external healing or time.

The next change was the increased Anima, it showed ‘0.1’ right now but it wasn’t the end; the increment hadn’t stopped. The data was the amount of Anima stored in the runes, and each rune’s upper limit was his maximum soul strength, which equaled the energy his soul produced—his ‘Spirit’. This meant he could store ‘1.3’ units of Fire-Anima in his rune right now.

His Astylind section also changed, it displayed a part of Orange’s data. Since he burned the soul essence for the contract, the ‘Potential’ decreased as well. And the final change was the updated name of the items he owned in the claw-ring. Most of the data had indeed come from his memories; Orange’s name in his status screen alone proved this.

Once he checked everything, Ewan closed the screen and heaved a sigh of relief. His shoulders slouched and his back bent; he was a bit faint, but a huge burden was off his mind. Now that he contracted Orange, he didn’t feel naked anymore. His strength hadn’t changed much, but a sense of security embraced him, as if he had a blanket over his naked body now, and it eased his taut nerves.

The relief didn’t change his plans though, he still wanted to contract the other three. The only problem was the method to wake them up from their suspended state. His Pa said they required a lot of blood. Ewan didn’t know how much was ‘a lot of blood’, but if his Pa said, ‘a lot’, it meant it was enough to kill him if he used his own—his Pa seldom exaggerated important matters. Even if he did it in parts with large intervals, losing that much blood wouldn’t do him any good, especially when his status already showed nutrient deficient and hypovolemia. And he didn’t want to wait too long to get better before contracting them.

There was no other way; he had to buy it. But Staron’s blood and Astylind’s blood were off the list. Even though he had a lot of Anima Crystals, he had no idea how to use them as currency. Most of all, he didn’t know where to use them as currency.

He planned to find a way to get in touch with the Severynth groups and communities one day. But for now, he could only let it go. And so, the only option he could go for was the regular beasts’ and animals’ blood. It should be available in the butcher’s shop, he reckoned. A minor issue was the amount, which he could solve by buying from different vendors. It could be ostentatious, but it had to do for now.

Before venturing out, Ewan put the dagger back in the storage and tried out the innate skill he learned after his first awakening as a Severynth, 'Dekoth—Soul Vortex’. He aimed at Orange and used the innate skill with much familiarity—it was the same as taking a deep breath. A black vortex formed at his palm and Orange dissolved into threads of orange mist.
Ewan closed his eyes and sensed the fire rune in his soul space, its inside had a world of fire—a complete void with nothing but roaring flames. Orange, with his childlike curiosity, cavorted around. He chased after one fire snake, then another passerby took his attention away.

This was the space inside the rune that acted as the contracted Astylinds’ home.

Ewan had been itching to use his innate skill since the day his soul awakened. Since he walked the path of Severynths though, he could only use it after he contracted his first pet. If not, his only other option was ‘Aokoth—Core Creation’; the skill Cerades used as their foundation.

The lack of elemental runes and the feedback meant the Cerades had to create something to control Anima and train—they chose a ‘core’. The ‘Aokoth’ skill copied the other Starons and Astylinds and allowed them to do this. Yet, theirs were innate and Cerades had to make do with the acquired, and the resulting incompatibility caused their downfall. This was why Ewan couldn’t consider a Cerade’s path, even if his large amount of soul essence gave him steep advantages if he were to walk on it.

He aimed and opened his soul vortex again, and Orange jumped out and looked around, confused. A deep sense of want for the ‘fire snakes’ passed on to Ewan with their soul connection, and with Orange hooting at him to egg him on, Ewan used Dekoth again and sent him back to the rune.

The sun had already bid its farewell for the day, and the two crescent moons bathed the courtyard in a violet-silver hue. “Tomorrow then.” He decided when he looked out the window.

He had one last unknown thing in his claw-ring. He could check that tonight and get the blood tomorrow.

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Spoiler: Chapter-18 Observation

Chapter-18 Observation

Late night.

With the hearty dinner stuffing him and as Orange burped, Ewan went up and lounged on the balcony. Under the stars, the gentle and faint violet-silver moonlight blanketed him on the recliner. A glass of steaming hot sweetened milk sat on the stool beside him; he blew it from time to time while his eyes remained stuck on the window of the house beyond the fences to the left.

The lights were still on in there. A young girl helped her mother in the kitchen, her faded blonde ponytailed hair swaying with her steps. Oil-splatters dotted her sky-blue apron, and some even reached her argent glossy night pajamas—she worked the stove and her mother cut the veggies.

Her father must’ve come home late again, Ewan guessed.

Verina, his childhood friend; she had grown a lot. He used to play with her back in the days, even their fathers were close enough to have drinks on occasion. She was the same age as him, and the lack of any other playmate in the neighborhood had her tail him and Nana, eventually the party of two becoming a band of three.

Once his father died though, the two houses never interacted again. The relation of the past died in the past. Now, he only watched them from the balcony sometimes to reminisce, the trigger of nostalgia taking him back to the sunny days. She used to be one of his closest friends, now, she only reminded him of the happy times he spent here.

“She must have a boyfriend by now. Heh, the snotty little brat grew so much.”

Soon his laughter froze when realized how much he sounded like the old men who often played cards on the second corner of their street, by the local eatery, munching on whatever they found—their plates were never empty.

My lost innocence…

He sighed and lamented, shaking his head at his loss, then looked towards the house to his right. Nana sprawled there on her balcony, still wearing her wrinkled school uniform with a wet brownish patch on her white shirt—she must’ve spilled some liquor. Her eyes drooped and she looked wasted even from afar, yet she still chugged down half a quarter neat, tossed it aside, and fumbled to take out another from the bag beside her. Several empty bottles already surrounded her, some covered in dust, but most were fresh.

Havanna Elsworth, Nana for him and their families, and his fiancé from the old promise. The two families were close, close enough to engage the two when they were mere babies. But time did its wonders again—it killed that relationship. Ewan broke when his Pa died and wouldn’t have survived the harshest time if not for Aunt Ella, Uncle Keith, and Nana. He never said it and never showed it, but they became his crutch, which worsened his condition when they suddenly vanished.

Just as he got back on his feet though, however wobbly he was, two years after his Pa’s death, they moved back in. Yet they shunned him and gave him the cold shoulder when he reached out. Only Nana sometimes came to him but that waned too when Aunt Ella reprimanded her for it. The drastic change settled his bubbling sentiments, and he pulled away in dismay, keeping his dejection buried in his heart. They must have their reasons for it, he reckoned, while still battling with the thought that this was the truth, and the past was all a lie.

They didn’t give him time to adjust, however, and the news of their horrifying death hammered him down.

That day, he set foot in the dreaded funeral hall again, shivering, and watched from afar how the always bright and cheerful Nana crumbled into lifeless shards. Ewan didn’t reach out to help though, he couldn’t reach out to help. The reality had broken him, and he’d yet to recover, how could he gather her pieces…

Ewan heaved a deep sigh as the olden memories gushed back in, still fresh with pain without the soothing dust of time. They both suffered their own tragedies and they both were left alone. But the similar situation didn’t bring them closer. Instead, the lack of initiative from both sides drifted them apart, and they lived their own lives. The only difference was that Nana remained broken in brittle shards while Ewan was already sharpening his jagged edge.

If she saw him making progress, would she also strive to live better? Could his change make her smile again… Ewan recalled her sobs when he burned himself, and it pained him to be the trigger of her tears. After all, even if they didn’t acknowledge the engagement anymore, they still used to be a family—they only had each other now.

Alas, the possibilities depended on her….

…

…

…

Once he had enough of his habitual ‘observation’, which also included the new couple who moved into the house across the street recently, stacks of boxes piled in their yard, he took out the final unknown item from his claw-ring—the silver metal dishware.

It looked like normal tableware. The only difference was the brushed metal design and the small circular groove in the middle. Before using <Identify> on it, Ewan probed it with his ‘spirit’. Because of how alien it was to him, his Pa must’ve left another memory imprint on it. After all, only using <Identify> couldn’t explain all its applications.

And indeed, once his spirit touched it through his hand, the information from the memory imprint poured into his mind. He took his time, and once he sorted it all out and rechecked for confirmation, his eyes lit up with glee. The problem that haunted him for so long, he carried its solution with him for days. He always imagined the Ashevas meeting in a dark place at night, all cloaked up and their voices muffled. The secrecy his teachers maintained, and a lack of information dissemination assured him of his thoughts. Yet, none of his guesses and imaginations even came close to reality.

Airadian Hub Stratum—a moving hidden layer in Airadia’s atmosphere that Ashevas used as a hub. This was their cornerstone.

They discovered this layer; they didn’t create it. As it was a part of the plane, it also contained Airadia’s sentience. Because of that, it allowed free movement and entry only to the natives of Airadia. Combined with it was its natural stealth and constant movement feature; it was the perfect choice for a hub. So, after getting the permission from Airadia’s sentience, they modified a part of it and transformed it into what it was today—Airadian Hub Stratum.

It was a free hub with no restrictions. No one controlled it, no one managed it. Starons could rent safe zones from Airadia, but they were responsible for their own safety in other areas.

This was the core of the information in the memory imprint. Once he reached the end, he held the plate with trembling hands, staring at it with famished eyes. His heart hammered his chest, his face flushed. Yet, he was gentle with his touch, he couldn’t afford to damage the plate. If it broke, it would kill him, for the plate was the Hub-Connector, it was his means to connect to the hub stratum.

Ashevas seldom visited the layer themselves, they all used the hub-connector. It reduced the risk as they would receive no damage even if someone attacked the blob of spirit they used to connect—Ewan planned to do the same.

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