Invincible
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#190
🕑 Added 2025-01-22 18:51:58 +0000 UTCRockefeller (5)
Since Medel gave birth, the household had become increasingly chaotic.
The constant crying left dark circles etched under everyone's eyes, and even preparing meals properly became a struggle.
“Bleh, this bread tastes spoiled,” Rockefeller commented.
Not even recalling when the bread was purchased, he wouldn’t have known if Medel hadn’t pointed it out.
“Does it? Hmm.”
“See? I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know.”
“Rockefeller, your taste buds are strange. It’s definitely sour.”
After spending every day working outside, he dedicated his evenings to learning.
“Are you practicing magic again today?” Medel asked.
“I have to for at least an hour a day. Otherwise, I can’t sleep.”
“Ugh, you could rest every now and then…”
Since the day he began learning magic from the neighbor, he hadn’t skipped a single day of training.
"Magic is often referred to as the training of the five senses. Mana can be perceived through sight, touch, hearing, smell, and taste…"
Although the neighbor wasn’t a mage, Rockefeller learned basic theories from him, even if he never got to see magic firsthand.
"The sense that awakens first determines your talent. Smell is a very rare talent, and taste is even rarer, though it’s not particularly celebrated."
The neighbor, a former mathematician, seemed to know a lot.
Rumor had it he once tutored nobles.
When Rockefeller asked, the neighbor explained that he learned a wide range of disciplines to avoid being fired and make ends meet.
"Mathematicians are looked down upon everywhere. Without magic, it’s just playing with numbers. And honestly, they’re not wrong. Without magic, we’re neither helpful nor particularly skilled."
Brilliant mathematicians were typically also magicians.
Because of this, the neighbor had struggled to find work even in impoverished noble families and was eventually let go.
"In the end, if you can’t use magic, you’re not considered useful. But if you can, your quality of life improves significantly."
Watching Medel soothe the crying child, Rockefeller resolved to become a magician.
He knew happiness in the present didn’t guarantee future stability.
Seven months passed since he began learning magic theory.
“My skin feels cool, like I’ve been hit by water spray, but I haven’t,” Rockefeller noted.
“Your sense of touch seems to have awakened first, Delken!”
“…So, it’s just an ordinary talent, huh?”
At first, they assumed touch was his initial awakened sense.
“What nonsense. Many people never awaken any sense in their entire lives. Look at me—I’ve been training for ten years with no results,” the neighbor replied.
But that wasn’t the case.
The neighbor’s cherished magic tome held the key.
“Let’s see. Those who awaken touch can create fire as light as a feather. Want to give it a try?”
“It’s not working…”
“Hmm. Is it because you lack a magic wand? No, this should work barehanded…”
The tome contained a test for determining the awakened sense.
Through trial and error, Rockefeller discovered it by levitating an object.
“Taste?”
“Remarkable, Delken! Not only is it taste, but it’s a natural awakening? How could you have gone so long without realizing it? Astonishing!”
If it had been any other sense, it might have been more noticeable.
But taste was subtle and easily dismissed as a mere quirk.
“Disappointing. Why did it have to be taste? There’s so little magic for it.”
“Even so, there’s always a demand for magicians. You’ll find something.”
Though it wasn’t the talent he’d hoped for, Rockefeller was grateful for this gift.
“Once you’re more skilled, why not move to the city, Delken?” the neighbor suggested.
“The city?”
“There’s hardly any work for magicians in a shantytown. If you want to earn money, you’ll need to go somewhere bigger.”
Rockefeller took the advice to heart and began planning his move to the city.
Thanks to the addition of a clear goal, mastering magic came quickly.
The limited number of spells he could learn due to a lack of materials, coupled with the absence of a wand, made progress slower, but he pressed on.
“Mom doesn’t approve,” Medel said firmly.
Her opposition was strong.
“We have enough money for now. Even if I don’t go back to work, I can still take care of Arcyon.”
“But think about your age. You’re only ten years old, and you want to go to the city? Do you even know what it’s like there?”
Despite her concerns, Rockefeller’s mind was made up.
“I’m not stupid. I won’t fall for scams or anything like that. Besides, I know how to protect myself.”
“Don’t get too full of yourself just because you’re smart and know a little magic!”
“Be realistic, Medel. Do you think this shantytown is going to last forever?”
Medel’s worries were understandable, but Rockefeller knew the war would eventually end.
And when it did, the shantytown’s days would be numbered.
“When the war is over and everything starts returning to normal, people will leave. Few will remain here. Do you think there’ll still be work left for us? We’ll have no choice but to leave, and settling down elsewhere will require a lot of money.”
Thinking of the future, Rockefeller tried to reason with her.
“If Arcyon gets sick, what will you do? Or if he wants to go to school? If he gets bullied in the city for being poor? When that day comes, don’t even think about returning to this place. By then, it won’t even exist.”
Perhaps overwhelmed by his own emotions, his voice grew intense.
Though he smiled, Medel’s eyes turned red.
She wiped her nose with her sleeve before retrieving something from a drawer.
It was an opened letter and a ring.
They were left behind by Arcyon’s father, the man Medel had once loved.
“I’ve kept this letter all this time because I wanted to read it myself,” Medel admitted.
“…You can read now?” Rockefeller asked.
“I’ve been able to for months. I worked hard to learn while you were busy working. Hehe.”
The letter’s content was straightforward: apologies to Medel, an explanation of some unspoken reason for leaving, and instructions to bring the ring to the city hall if she gave birth to their child.
It was his way of taking responsibility, however minimal.
“City hall?” Rockefeller murmured.
The man had been a soldier.
City hall would know his address, and with some effort, they might even find him.
For a soldier, leaving behind such a letter wasn’t unusual.
But Rockefeller couldn’t hide his discontent.
“Isn’t this relationship already over?”
If the man had cared for Medel, he would have visited, regardless of the child.
At the very least, he could’ve sent another letter.
The long silence hinted at other possibilities—perhaps he had found another woman.
If that were the case, Rockefeller thought, it wouldn’t be the worst.
At least he might send money to sever ties.
But if that wasn’t an option…
‘He might be dead. It’s wartime, after all.’
No scenario seemed promising.
Not wanting to upset Medel further, Rockefeller carefully chose his words.
“Medel, have some pride. We don’t need help from a guy like that.”
His tone was deliberately dismissive, as if to brush off the man’s importance.
“Just forget about him. He’s probably living comfortably somewhere, eating well.”
But Medel seemed to have already come to terms with the situation.
“I’m okay with it. Even if he’s with another woman now, I can accept that. I just want Arcyon to know whether his father is alive or dead.”
Her expression was resolute.
No doubt she had spent countless nights imagining every possible scenario.
“Postpone going to the city. Wait until you’re a bit older, okay?”
“I’ll think about it based on how much money comes in.”
Rockefeller reluctantly backed down in response to Medel’s heartfelt plea.
City halls only existed in government-sanctioned towns, not in shantytowns.
Medel packed her belongings and asked if there was anything else she needed before heading out.
Rockefeller shook his head and decided to leave Arcyon in the care of the mathematician neighbor.
The man, who had raised children himself, had occasionally looked after Rockefeller as an infant at Medel's request.
It seemed a safe and reliable choice.
“I’ll be back early tomorrow morning, so don’t worry,” Medel said as she departed for the village.
Rockefeller entrusted Arcyon to the neighbor and set out to work.
It was a day full of anxious thoughts—ranging from worries about Medel encountering trouble, to selfish musings like, ‘If she does receive money, how much will it be?’
He also couldn’t stop thinking about how she might handle hearing devastating news.
That night, sleep didn’t come easily.
“Waaah!”
Without Medel, Arcyon cried even louder.
The next morning, he wasn’t sure when he had finally fallen asleep, but by the time he woke, the sun was already high in the sky.
Seeing that Medel was still absent, Rockefeller guessed she hadn’t returned yet.
Once again, he left Arcyon with the neighbor and hurried out.
He needed to reach the main gate, which required passing through the square.
The closer he got to the square, the more crowded it appeared.
As expected of the shantytown, the square was a chaotic mess of crumbling structures and makeshift stalls.
It was always bustling with people selling goods, but today, something was different.
The atmosphere was heavy.
People stood rooted to the ground, their faces grave, whispering among themselves.
‘What’s going on?’
Curious, Rockefeller pushed his way through the crowd, weaving between shoulders and elbows, until he reached the front.
A booming voice rang out.
“Look closely! This is the price of defying the royal family!”
The man speaking was clearly a soldier of the royal army, and his proclamation of treason struck Rockefeller as odd.
The royal army seldom ventured into such impoverished areas, especially for something as seemingly minor as treason.
‘Everyone curses the royal family behind their backs—any three-year-old in this place knows that. So why this village?’
It wasn’t like anyone here would openly defy the royals.
This shantytown was a refuge for those barely clinging to life during the war.
Anyone ready to give up would have done so long ago.
‘What kind of treason could have prompted soldiers to come here and make an example of someone?’
Driven by morbid curiosity, Rockefeller pressed closer to the center of the square.
There, he saw several soldiers and, among them, a mage clad in an impressive robe.
All eyes were on the accused.
“Wait…” Rockefeller gasped, his breath catching in his throat.
Tied to a post was a lifeless body, its head slumped forward.
The long, reddish-brown hair and the familiar clothing sent a chill through him.
“No… it can’t be,” he muttered as he took cautious steps closer to confirm his fear.
‘It’s not her. It just looks similar. That’s all. It can’t be her.’
But his trembling shoulders and the growing heaviness in his chest betrayed his mounting dread.
Clenching his jaw to steady his emotions, he forced a neutral expression and approached the soldiers and mage.
Just as he reached out a hand, someone grabbed his wrist.
“Stop!”
The grip belonged to the workshop owner, an elderly woman.
“Don’t do anything foolish, Delken,” she whispered.
“But… but! They—!”
Slap!
The sharp sting of her hand silenced him, and she spoke with a trembling voice, her eyes glistening with tears.
“If you lose your temper now, who will take care of Arcyon? Please, think rationally. You’re a clever boy, aren’t you?”
Her words snapped him out of his daze.
There was no time to grieve.
Speculating about why Medel had ended up like this would have to wait.
Because at that very moment…
“That mage… he’s casting a spell.”
A surge of mana so intense it made his skin burn gathered at the tip of the mage’s staff.
With a cold, disdainful look, the mage tilted his chin upward and declared,
“On second thought, this method will save us time.”
The commander beside the mage hesitated, questioning the decision.
“Sir Derkan, do we really have to go this far?”
“This cesspool is teeming with those discontented with the royal family,” Derkan sneered.
“These children are likely to side with the rebels as they grow. And besides…”
The mage’s eyes gleamed ominously.
“This is an illegal slum, an unregistered trash heap. Its absence won’t matter, will it?”
With a flick of his staff, flames spread like a river.
Rockefeller’s shut eyes snapped open as the stench of burning flesh hit his nose.
At first, he saw nothing but darkness.
Then he realized he was wrapped in something, the sensation smothering his body and stealing his breath.
A warm, protective presence pressed against his chest before suddenly falling away.
When Rockefeller opened his eyes, he saw the woman who had shielded him—the workshop owner—now lying at a distance.
Her skin was melted and raw from the burns, and her lips moved weakly.
“G-go… quickly…”
Gritting his teeth, Rockefeller ran.
He glanced back repeatedly, searching for the woman’s figure, but the fleeing crowd obscured her from view until she was lost entirely.
The tragedy didn’t end there.
The shantytown, built entirely of wood, fed the flames as they raged higher and fiercer.
Walls of fire began closing in, suffocating the people trapped within.
Amid the screams and chaos, the mage’s mocking laughter echoed.
“Ha ha ha! The fire spreads beautifully!”
As Rockefeller raced toward his home, the mage’s name burned into his mind like the flames around him.
‘Derkan… It was definitely Derkan.’
With a vow to one day kill him, Rockefeller finally reached his house, only to find it consumed by fire, the crackling sounds filling the air.
“Arcyon…”
Despair engulfed him.
The realization that the last person he could rely on might also be gone left him hollow.
Without hesitation, he stepped into the flames.
Then he heard it—a baby’s cry pierced the chaos.
“Waaaah!”
Snapping out of his daze, Rockefeller rushed toward the sound.
In a corner of an alley, he found the neighbor crouched with Arcyon wrapped in tattered cloth.
The man had his hand over the baby’s mouth, his eyes sharp and alert.
“Phew… it’s you, Delken,” the neighbor said.
“Sir…” Rockefeller whispered.
“There’s no time to explain. Follow me,” the man commanded.
Rockefeller trailed behind him, careful to muffle his footsteps.
The path the neighbor chose miraculously avoided the worst of the flames, though the heat was still intense.
It was bearable, for now.
As they hurried through the alleys, the man suddenly slowed and brought a finger to his lips.
“Shh!”
Rockefeller froze as voices echoed from around the corner.
“I’m not sure about this. The baby must be killed,” said one voice.
“Don’t worry. We burned that woman Medel’s house thoroughly, didn’t we? Just report that the baby turned to ash, and it should suffice,” replied another.
“Still, I’m uneasy. Honestly, some of these people might survive. Should we just kill every baby we see?”
The heat on Rockefeller’s back intensified as the fire crept closer.
Though the flames threatened to engulf them, the soldiers showed no signs of leaving.
The neighbor suddenly turned, his face etched with determination, and handed Arcyon to Rockefeller.
“Delken… I don’t know why, but the soldiers are targeting Arcyon. Your house was the first they searched,” he said grimly.
The man then took the tattered cloth he had wrapped around himself and rolled it into a ball.
With a heavy sigh, he continued, “I have so much to say, but there’s no time. I’ll keep it brief.”
He gave Rockefeller a bittersweet smile, clutching the cloth to his chest like a treasure.
“You and Arcyon gave me the feeling that my own children had come back to life. Thank you for that.”
Without another word, he sprinted toward the soldiers and the alley where they stood guard.
