Hector rapidly tapped his finger on the kitchen table as his dad pulled out a chair from under it and sat down. Wetting his lips, Hector shifted his eyes to the kitchen window before moving back to his dad. How could he get across how sorry he was without seeming as if he didn’t mean it?

  Because his dad was right. He was still mad at him—not nearly as much as yesterday. But the feelings were still there.

  His father rested a hand on the kitchen table and leant back in his chair with a sigh as he eyed Hector.

  The dampness of the house filled Hector’s nose as he took a breath and gathered his thoughts. “I was wrong. I know that, Dad, I just…” he trailed off, and picked at a thin piece of wood splintering from the table’s surface.

  “Just what, Hector?” His father said, his gaze locking onto Hector. “Just thought you could come and go as you please. Just thought you could leave the house and not even check back. Whose roof do you live under, boy?”

  “Yours,” Hector said, dropping his head.

  “Right, so how is it you think you can just waltz in and out at any time?”

  “Dad, I—”

  Hector paused. What was the point of even explaining? It wouldn’t make anything better—if anything, it would be worse. Should he even have to explain himself? He was going to be an adult in a few months. Would he still have to explain himself then? Would he have to leave?

  “You what?” His father said, tilting his head. “Do you need some more time to come up with a good excuse—is that it?”

  Why are you being so difficult?

  Hector sighed, raising his head to meet his dad’s eyes before glancing away. Behind Hector was the door to the hallway, to their rooms. He couldn’t leave, even if his dad was being like this. The man had his days, but he was good to them, and more importantly, he couldn’t leave Mirae.

  “I’m sorry, Dad, I know I messed up,” Hector said.

  “You’re damn right you did.”

  “I won’t do it again, I promise. Look, from now on, I’ll make sure—”

  “Hector, what are you doing?” His dad asked, tilting his head and letting out a sigh. He massaged his forehead and rested a hand on the rotting kitchen table. “This isn’t a negotiation, and you aren’t setting the rules. As you just acknowledged, you live under my roof; that means you follow rules.”

  “Yes, Dad,” Hector said, lowering his head and then picking at the wood. He turned his head to the side and his gaze wandered around the kitchen counter. To the front of it sat a candle, its flame flickering gently in the evening breeze that blew through the ajar kitchen window. Why couldn’t he be that candle right now?

  “Hector, look at me!” His dad snapped.

  Hector turned towards him and set his jaw, his chest tight as he swallowed. Why did this have to take so long? The man wouldn’t accept any apology. Stress had made him blind, no doubt not helped by the looming debt.

  Sure, Hector now had the money, but giving it to him right now would just cause more problems. His other hand, resting on his lap, moved over to his belt. Tied to it, and covered by his shirt, were several pouches holding the silver they’d gotten.

  His father sighed and raised his head to the ceiling. “I didn’t want to do this, Hector, but you’ve forced my hand. I am confining you to this house for a week. You aren’t to go to the dojo, and especially not to meet your friends. Do you understand?”

  “What, no you can’t!” Hector shot to his feet, his chair clattering behind him.

  “Do you understand?” His father asked again, leering at him.

  “Yes.” Hector’s head fell, and he turned to pick up the chair, fighting back the growing knot in his chest.

  “Good. Now go to your room; Mirae will call you out for dinner later.” His father jerked his hand towards the kitchen door, signalling for Hector to go.

  Hector turned and left the room, and as he did, the sound of the cupboard in which his father kept his alcohol slapped closed. Hector scoffed, shaking his head. He was now stuck in the house for a week. At the very least, that was time to cultivate and time to grow Talents.

  He’d have to figure out a way to pay his father’s debt once he was free. He moved his hands to the pouches at his waist, feeling their weight in his palm.

  —— —— —— ——

  Emela rubbed at her nose as she continued to write up her notes on the parchment in front of her. She paused, and her eyes shifted over to the side, where a fire crackled in the fireplace, toasting the air and making her fingers slightly sweaty.

  “Everything alright, Mistress?” Nyx asked. The black-haired girl stood next to the entrance of this little clearing in the family’s grand library, a circular oasis in the forest of bookshelves that made up the Frostkeep library.

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  Emela sighed and rested her quill on the fine oak table. She pushed her parchment forward and steepled her hands on the wood. “I was just thinking, is all. It’s ridiculous.”

  “You mean the thing with Hector?”

  Emela nodded. “To think that he can not only see that, I’m a Blessed Blood. But also—”

  “Mistress,” Nyx interrupted, “I know he said that this pact is effective. But I think we should still limit our conversation when it comes to that topic. Who knows what its effects on those in a higher realm were to be listening.”

  Emela nodded again. “But even so. I think that this could be a strong avenue to take,” she said, smiling. If what Hector said was true, he had an ability that all the great families would kill for. It would guarantee them more than just a simple spot when the sect came for the recruitment tournament in four years.”

  “I think it’s dangerous; if he were to be exposed. It could implicate us, or worse. I think he was a fool to tell us. I don’t question his judgment about trusting us, but what of the others? What if we had been someone else?” Nyx walked forward, picked a book from the stack that was resting on the table and slid it under her arm.

  Emela frowned. He was a tad rash in his decision, but he surely had a good reason. “I think it actually is a benefit. If we can get stronger, I will not have to…” She dropped to a whisper. “Worry about leaving the family.”

  Emela brushed her hand over the oak as Nyx moved to put the book back into one of the bookshelves that circled the little clearing. “I take it you’ve committed to this idea, then? Even knowing the risk.”

  “That would be minimal—look how strong my father is with the potency of our family’s blessed blood. Perhaps Hector can do more than what he’s said; maybe there is some hope of improving my own. If nothing else, as a mercenary group, we could do so much.”

  “And your identity. How will you tell them of that? As you will have to tell them eventually,” Nyx said. “That lie may have worked, but Hector and the others aren’t stupid—they will catch on, and it won’t take long. What will that do to your ambition, then?”

  Emela turned her head back to the crackling fire, as the squeaking of distant wheel carts pushed by the servant flittered in. The smell of old leather books tickled her nose as she looked over the parchment she’d been writing on. The History of Middlec and the surrounding cities on the continent seemed so minor now.

  If Hector has such trust in me and Nyx, I don’t believe he will turn me away even if he knows of my identity as a Frostkeep. He is far too kind for that.

  Emela glanced at Nyx, who stood by the bookshelf, slotting in another book. The girl raised an eyebrow at her, and Emela frowned slightly. “I have confidence, and the more I think about it, the more I realise this is the best option for me. This family shall not use me as a pawn.”

  Nyx sighed and lowered the book she was about to place in the nook. “Alright, Mistress, I understand. Then we are going to need a plan and a bit of help.”

  “The first thing we have to do is get a justification to end this engagement.” Emela smiled sheepishly. “How difficult can that be?”

  —— —— —— ——

  Hector glanced up, the shimmering of the soul waters reflecting into his eyes. With a grunt, he got to his feet and walked towards the pedestals; he had a few more Talents to plant and only a few fragments and one Talent he wanted to plant.

  But he had time to figure that out—a whole week. A ridiculous punishment for just coming back late. The stress was really getting to his father, but that wasn’t important now.

  No, the upgrades he’d gotten from the system were. What were they again, [Trait Up] and [Talent Grafting]? The names sounded good, and no doubt what they could do would be even better.

  “System, can you bring up information about [Trait Up]?” he asked.

  A moment later, a white text box popped up in front of him, and the system spoke.

  ————————————————

  ///: “[Trait Up] allows the user to add a buff to a Talent by spending the requisite fragment at the same rank. The host can only buff a Talent three times, and said Talent will lose all buffs upon merger with another Talent.”

  ————————————————

  A smile broke across Hector’s lips, and he brought a hand to his mouth. This was insane—he’d been saying that a lot regarding the system as of late. But this was up there. Depending on what these buffs were, he could turn an already great Talent into a monster.

  How would this affect a Talent like [Awakened Soul] that already gave him quite a boost, but then there was the cost? A fragment of the same rank. At the current rate, it would probably be hard to buff anything outside the common rank. As it hadn’t been easy to find other Talents in higher ranks.

  The Void beasts were the only thing that seemed to go higher, and thankfully, they weren’t common—or at least they shouldn’t be. Perhaps outside the walls of the city, there were more—perhaps he’d find out one day.

  But this was good. If [Trait Up] was this good, [Talent Grafting] wouldn’t disappoint.

  “System, bring up [Talent Grafting],” He called, shifting on his feet and causing ripples of blue to move out in the soul waters.

  Another Text box popped up.

  ————————————————

  ///: “[Talent Grafting], allows for the user to merge two Talents of the same rank to form a unique hybrid. This process requires the expenditure of one Talent at the same rank as the two being merged.”

  ————————————————

  Hector nodded, bringing a hand to his mouth and smiling. The system didn’t disappoint at all, being able to create hybrid Talents, that was… He turned his head to the side and took a breath. At the very least, it could sort of allow him to have more than the current ten that the system allowed.

  He dropped into a squat with a splash and cupped the back of his head. Hector then glanced up at the text box again and read it over, his smile growing wider. “System, how do I use these two new upgrades?”

  ————————————————

  ///: “Summoning Talent bench.”

  ————————————————

  The void rumbled slightly, and small waves lapped against Hector’s shins. Further in front of him, just behind the pedestals, a structure grew out of the water’s surface. Hector got to his feet and plodded towards it.

  A marble table pierced the surface—of course, it was marble. In it were four deep semi-circles, from the looks of it, perfect for holding Talents. Three of the half circles surrounded the fourth that sat in the centre.

  And as the marble structure finished pushing out of the soul waters with a final rumble, Hector stopped next to it. He placed his hand on the smooth surface; if anything, it was slightly smoother than the pedestals that held the Talent pots—Just slightly.

  “Well damn,” Hector said. “I guess I have myself another crafting bench, but this time for Talents.” He glanced back at the Talent pots, their water shimmering on their brown surface. He wouldn’t and couldn’t merge anything now. Not until he’d finished growing the Talent trees.

  But even then, he still had a lot to think about. What Talent would he upgrade, what Talent would he merge, and how was he going to get more fragments?

  He tilted his head back, letting out a shaky sigh. With everything that had happened so far, this was a damn good problem to have. But first, he needed Talents, and he had a lot of time to grow them. “I better get to work.”

  Discord.