🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋✦ AetherBorne: The Archivus Legacy ✦🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋Â
Thud.
The car door swung open, and I stepped out of my grandpa's yellow Mustang. The engine rumbled as if reluctant to leave, but my focus was elsewhere.
Freya staggered slightly beside me, her arms still wrapped in thick bandages, supported by her shoulder. The sight made my chest tighten. I knew she was strong—stronger than most—but even for someone with regeneration and enhanced endurance, the damage she had taken was severe.
If she hadn't been a strength type… if she didn't have regeneration… she would've died on the spot.
The thought chilled me.
I tightened my grip on her arm, steadying her as she took a step forward.
"I'll see you in the afternoon," Grandpa said, waving from the driver's seat.
As the Mustang roared to life and rolled forward, I turned to Freya. "Where's he going?"
She barely glanced at me before answering, "The Bureau. They have questions about what happened last Saturday."
Silence settled between us. A thick, heavy quiet. I had a million things to say, but none of them felt right. The weight in the air wasn't just exhaustion—it was loneliness. A quiet grief neither of us wanted to name.
By the time we reached our apartment, the tension hadn't lifted. The moment I stepped inside, I let myself collapse onto the sofa, exhaling sharply. My mind felt sluggish, but then a realization hit me.
Today is Monday.
With everything that had happened, I hadn't even thought about school. I had missed class.
Not just any class.
The team revelation.
Today was the day we'd find out who we were teaming with for the upcoming summer class. By now, after lunch, the evaluation would already be underway.
I ran a hand down my face, sighing.
For now, I need to recover.
I glanced around the dimly lit living room, noticing the empty space where Freya should have been. Then, I remembered—she had gone straight to her room the moment we stepped inside.
She was hurting. Not just physically, but in ways I couldn't see.
I knew her well enough to understand what she was feeling—guilt. The weight of watching me get hurt, of losing to something she should have been able to defeat. She was probably questioning everything—her strength, her role as my guardian, her very purpose.
I hesitated for a moment before walking toward her door.
"Freya?" I called softly.
No answer.
I knocked gently. "Freya? Can I come in?"
"Wait," she finally replied, her voice brittle, like it had been cracking for some time. "I'm… doing something."
Even through the door, I could tell she had been crying.
I swallowed hard. "Oh, okay," I said, trying to sound casual. "I just… wanted to tell you something."
Silence.
I leaned against the doorframe, taking a deep breath.
"Everything that happened during the incursion… Even though we're in this situation now, I'm thankful. If you hadn't been there, I think I would've died. I was so focused—so excited about the Mantid Blade—that I didn't notice how the environment was shifting. And now, after everything, what I feel isn't anger… It's fear."
I clenched my fists.
"In that moment, I could have lost you too—the one thing…"
I hesitated. The words wouldn't come out.
The memory of Freya lying broken on the ground burned in my mind. My chest ached, and for a moment, it felt like my heart could shatter just from the thought.
"I wish I were stronger!" I suddenly shouted.
My voice echoed through the hallway.
"I wish I were strong enough to protect you, to protect this family!"
The silence that followed was heavy.
I could still hear her soft cries. The way she tried to contain them, swallowing the sound as if suppressing her pain would somehow make it disappear.
This wasn't nothing. To others, it might have been just another battle. But for us, it was a moment where we nearly lost family.
I turned away from the door, exhaling shakily, and made my way to the roof.
The cold night air greeted me as I stepped onto the rooftop.
I let my gaze wander over the skyline, but in my mind, I saw something else.
The battlefield. The devastation.
I pictured the stance of the King Beetle—the way it moved, its raw power, its impenetrable carapace. I memorized every detail, every shift in energy, every tactical mistake I had made.
I was weak then. I won't be next time.
I closed my eyes and activated my zone.
"Tempestus Zone: Arena of Swords."
The space around me changed. Aether condensed, shaping an invisible force field, locking down the area within a kilometer radius.
But I could feel it—the same resistance I had experienced during the battle. The King Beetle's presence had pushed back against my domain, forcing me to a mere 500 meters.
If I can expand it… strengthen it…
I recalled my grandfather's Codex Nexus engulfing an entire training room. That was the answer. If I could push my zone to a full kilometer radius, I could match the King Beetle.
I pushed harder, testing the limits.
Under the Tempestus Zone, something became clear.
—Aether absorption increased.
—Aether consumption was stable.
—My heart wasn't exhausted as fast as before.
Even after using Legionarius Divinum and Tempestus Lumens, my Aether drop was only 5%.
I continued expanding my zone, pushing against the limits of my body and mind.
Freya was still grieving inside. And so was I.
But on this rooftop, beneath the vast sky, I was taking a step forward.
Because next time, I wouldn't just fight to survive.
I would fight to win.
🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋✦ AetherBorne: The Archivus Legacy ✦🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋🜋Â
Click.
A beat of silence.
Creeeaaaak...
I stepped inside, my bag sliding off my shoulder and hitting the floor with a muffled thud.
Class had just ended, and as usual, my eyes instinctively searched the room—hoping to see Freya lounging on the couch or pacing the hallway, pretending she wasn't still healing.
But she wasn't there.
She hadn't been there this morning either.
A quiet pit of unease settled in my stomach.
"Freya?" I called.
No answer.
I checked her room. Empty.
The rooftop? Nothing.
She was gone.
A sharp breath escaped my lips as I turned to the last place that could possibly give me an answer.
"Grandpa, I'm home!" I shouted—
Whoooosh...
Thummm— (a deep, resonant pulse of energy)
—and suddenly, I wasn't home anymore.
The air shifted. Heat wrapped around me.
White sand crunched beneath my boots, the sun overhead beat down mercilessly, and the salty tang of ocean air filled my lungs. I was back—on the island within Grandpa's Codex Nexus.
Our training ground.
Freya sat near the nipa hut, arms still bandaged, her posture stiff. Beside her, Grandpa was perched on his favorite stool, sipping from a cracked coconut shell like he was vacationing instead of preparing for war.
They were talking, but the air between them was tense—too quiet to be casual.
"Hey," I greeted.
Freya said nothing. Her eyes barely met mine.
Grandpa, on the other hand, grinned like a mischievous teenager.
"You know why she's like that?" he chuckled, voice thick with amusement. "She thinks you're stronger than her now!"
HRAA-HRAA-HRAA-HRAGHH!
A loud, chesty cackle bursts out — rough, raw, and unfiltered.
"That's not it," Freya muttered, clearly irritated.
But Grandpa just waved her off with another booming laugh.
"Don't worry about it! He's still a chick. His teeth haven't even grown in!"
HRAA-HRAA-HRAA—KHEH—HRAGHH!
He wheezes, gasping for air between each ragged burst.
"HHHHH—HAH—KHE-KHE-KHE!"
A tear rolls down his cheek as the laughter chokes him in joy.
Despite myself, I chuckled. A little. The mood always shifted when Grandpa was around.
Then I sat down and ask the status of the blood crystal
Grandpa raised an eyebrow.
"Ah, the Blood crystal the proof of challenge," he said, scratching his chin
I nodded.
"Yeah. Dont Worry you pass, but the Bureau on yesterday mandated we handover everything we have and we know."
"Those Fools" he snorted. "Figured we might as well give it to those greedy pencil-pushers before they accused us of smuggling it."
He leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight.
"But it wasn't just the crystal, was it? As I poke more on what happened with the bureau "You gave them something better—intel."
He grew serious now. That rare shift in tone that even Freya respected.
"No wonder no Unsealed ever noticed this until now. Based on the encounter you told me... there aren't just a few of those bugs with brains. There are nine more like that King of intellect you faced."
My breath caught.
"Ten in total…?"
"Exactly. And you faced the tenth," Grandpa confirmed.
He looked straight at me now, eyes sharp behind his usual relaxed expression.
"Of the ten encounters the Bureau has tracked, only four teams survived—yours being the most recent. The first three were during early skirmishes—raw luck, mostly. But encounters four through nine?"
He paused.
"Complete wipes. Not a single Unsealed came back."
The weight of those words pressed against my chest like stone.
"The Bureau thinks that the fourth encounter was the trigger," he continued. "You've studied this. Calamities of overgrowth evolve. Every time we lose, they adapt. And when that team was wiped out? It gave them the data they needed to evolve."
He leaned forward now, voice low and steady.
The air between us felt heavier.
"What you faced was the result of that evolution. The King of Intellect wasn't just strong—it was aware. Tactical. Prepared."
The words carried weight, not in volume, but in certainty.
A slow tension crept in, like the pressure before a storm.
He knew you would escape.
Not by chance—by design.
In terms of Aether ability, he continued, they're at the level of Reinforcer types. Body enhanced. Speed maximized.
Every word measured, like laying down facts on a battlefield.
Aether output—we can go toe to toe.
But what sets them above is their natural regeneration.
So it becomes a battle of endurance.
As the fight drags on, we're at a disadvantage—burning through our reserves.
But for them, as long as they have Aether, they regenerate. Again and again.
His voice didn't rise. He didn't need to repeat himself.
He just moved on.
To kill you— Grandpa looked at me.
They developed a zoning ability. To lock you in their domain.
That's why you couldn't teleport out.
And I think this scenario also happened in the Fourth to Ninth encounters. That's why they were wiped.
They could go in... but they could never go out.
Freya still hadn't spoken.
I glanced at her again. She just looked out toward the ocean, her expression unreadable, the night breeze gently brushing strands of her hair behind her ear.
For us, it may have been just another mission, I thought.
But for her… it was the day we almost lost everything.
And that made it real.
Grandpa leaned forward, pushing himself up from the bamboo stool with a grunt. But the moment his foot touched the ground—
THOOM...
A deep, slow pulse reverberates through the earth, like a heartbeat buried beneath stone.
—I felt it.
Not just Aether.
Something greater.
The air shifted. The waves stopped crashing. Even the breeze paused mid-motion, as if the entire island had taken a breath and held it.
The ground under my feet felt heavier—not in weight, but in presence. Everything—the sand, the trees, even the sea—was responding to him.
It was like the Tempestus Zone, but not quite. It wasn't Aether condensing like when I cast mine... no, it was more than that.
The island wasn't being controlled.
It was syncing with him.
A kind of zoning I had never seen. A domain so harmonized with its master, it responded to his very pulse.
Grandpa turned to me with a grin.
"This is zoning on another level," he said, his voice slow, deliberate.
"A zone that doesn't just bend the battlefield... it locks it."
He stepped forward, and I could feel the radius expand with him.
"Based on your report, the King of Intellect aura alone covered nearly 100 kilometers," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Big, huh?"
I nodded. That number had haunted me since the fight.
"At my best," he continued, "this island stands at 500 kilometers in diameter."
My eyes widened.
Five hundred...?
"You're surprised," he said with a smirk. "Well, good. Because the Bureau sure as hell was."
He sighed, his tone shifting into something more serious.
"This intel you brought back… It's changed everything. The Bureau's already restructured their entire chain of operations. Not that we care much about their politics."
He waved it off like swatting away a fly.
"What I do care about… is your Final Exam."
His gaze locked on mine.
I straightened instinctively.
"You're not canceling it?" I asked.
"Nope," he replied, digging something from his pouch.
He tossed it. I caught it without thinking.
Aether Watch. Sleek. Custom. Familiar.
"Freya told me she already showed you hers," he said, folding his arms.
"Yeah," I muttered. "She broke it."
"She didn't break it," he corrected. "She signaled with it."
He leaned in slightly, eyes sharp.
"If you're ever in real danger—break that thing. I'll be there in an instant."
I looked at it, then back at him.
"But why give this to me now?" I asked. "What's the point?"
Grandpa chuckled darkly, shaking his head.
"With your attitude? You've probably broken more than you've trained. Always looking for the shortcut, the angle, the clever trick."
His voice softened, but just a little.
"I know you're my grandson. You're sharp, clever... but too stubborn to lift a hand unless there's something in it for you."
I winced.
Fair point.
"No resistance," he continued. "Even the bullies mock you and walk away like it's nothing."
My mouth parted in disbelief.
"How did you—?"
"You think I don't know?" he snorted. "You think I didn't have eyes everywhere? I knew the moment that fire boy threw his first punch."
Sol.
Of course he'd know. Grandpa always knew.
"That fire boy's strong," Grandpa said with a nod, "but you—you can keep up with him."
Then, without warning, he raised his voice, hands on his hips:
"You're just lazy!"
His voice echoed across the island like thunder.
Freya, still sitting quietly, finally broke into a smile.
Not a mocking one. A quiet, relieved one.
She was still hurting. Still healing.
But that smile told me... she hadn't lost faith in me.
And neither had he.
As Grandpa turned toward Freya, his expression shifted—serious, but not stern. There was something deeply human in his gaze.
"As for you," he said softly, "forget what happened in the past."
Freya's eyes trembled, lips pressed tightly. I caught the subtle shimmer of tears tracing down her cheek. She didn't respond.
"He's alive," Grandpa continued, voice firm yet gentle. "He's still standing right now."
She saw me…?
The thought struck like a bolt of lightning.
Freya saw me… during the King Beetle's attack?
Did she think I died?
Then Grandpa raised his voice—not in anger, but in conviction.
"It didn't happen. And I won't let it happen."
The air felt heavy. Like even the island was listening.
"Your parents, both of you—you're my world," he said, the weight of years behind his words.
"If I have to destroy this world to protect you… then I would."
His voice didn't tremble. It didn't shake. It simply was. A promise etched in stone.
A moment of silence passed before he cleared his throat.
"But for now…" he added with a lighter tone, "you both need to get stronger."
Before anything else could be said, something familiar caught my senses.
Fsssssshh…
A soft, steady sizzle fills the air, accompanied by the mouthwatering scent of grilled meat drifting on the breeze.
My stomach let out a growl loud enough to embarrass a lesser man.
Even Grandpa's nose twitched, and he let out a booming laugh.
"After all that emotional crap—I'm starving!" he barked.
"Let's eat. We've got a long day tomorrow."
We made our way toward the structure built beside the nipa hut. As we walked through the open-air passage, I spotted two familiar silhouettes by the fire pit.
Uncle Baek stood over a large fish roasting above glowing coals, moving with the grace of a martial artist despite his age. His wiry frame was deceptively powerful—every motion tight, controlled. His silver-threaded hair was slicked back, save for a few strands falling freely. Bandaged hands worked effortlessly, flipping the fish with a carved wooden paddle. His sharp eyes, dark and deep, scanned the grill like a soldier watching a battlefield.
Beside him, manning the meat with expert rhythm, stood Uncle Ramón—his heavyset form slightly hunched over a rack of sizzling cuts.
Despite his size, he moved like a seasoned tactician: slow, precise, deliberate. His stained button-up was half-tucked under a utility belt of tools and ammo pouches. His thick glasses sat crooked on his nose, but his aim—whether with tongs or a sniper rifle—never missed.
And yes, there was a cigar tucked behind his ear, like always.
"These two," Grandpa once told me, "have been my brothers-in-arms long before you were born. What we've been through… no bond can replace that."
As we got closer, Uncle Baek looked up and nodded in his usual stoic way.
Uncle Ramón, on the other hand, grinned and waved a greasy tong.
"Oi! Thought you died again, kid! Sit down—we're feeding an army tonight."
I laughed, and for the first time in days, it felt real.
The table was full—fish, grilled meat, rice wrapped in leaves, cold drinks, and even a few strange delicacies I didn't recognize. We feasted like there was no tomorrow, stories flying around, old jokes being recycled like they were new. For a moment, the war, the Calamity, the pressure—it all faded.
Even Freya began speaking again, little by little. The stiffness in her voice softened.
She glanced at me, her smile returning.
"That's why Uncle Baek and Uncle Ramón are here," she said. "To help with our training."
"More like whip you into shape," Uncle Ramón grunted through a mouthful of ribs.
As the stars appeared in the sky and the fire cracked gently beside us, I felt the weight of the day finally ease off my shoulders.
Later that night, I stepped into Grandpa's nipa hut. The wooden floor creaked underfoot, just like it did when I was a child. I lay down on his bed, pulling the familiar blanket over me. The scent of old wood, faint smoke, and dried herbs filled the air.
That same feeling of safety washed over me—the feeling of being protected, of being home.
And despite everything... I slept like a child.