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80. Father's secrets
🕑 Added 2025-08-31 13:44:31 +0000 UTCI sat down in meditation, letting my consciousness rest before trying to get into the coffers. That technically shouldn’t be a problem, considering I knew the passwords. But who knew?
Finally, rested well enough, I approached the chests and tried the keyless locks. On the first few, no luck. But on the fourth try, I finally heard the lock click.
I opened the chest with excitement. It was meant to react to me when I reached the third circle. That must have been the case. There was something my father left me. A present to celebrate my ascension, maybe? What could it be?
I opened the chest and… was immediately disappointed.
There were two books on third-circle death and space magic. Aside from that, there was only a small statue of a demon with a piece of its soul inside, similarly to the one from Brazil, also in the third circle.
With a frown on my face, I leafed through the books.
Nothing.
The disappointment inside me welled up even more.
I didn’t know what I expected, but at least a message from my dad. At least, “Congratulations, son.” Something, anything.
I sighed.
That couldn’t be it. My father was many things, but his love for me was not something I ever questioned.
There must have been more.
I knocked and pressed the chest in all the places, but no hidden compartment, no letter stuffed into a crack in the wood.
Okay, so what could it be?
Why leave only two books and the soul piece?
They were great grimoires, no doubt. I’m sure the knowledge inside them was deep and useful, but there wasn’t anything… I don’t know, special? Personal? About them.
Why?
I sat back, looking over the storage. Was I being ungrateful? Or reading too much into things? I wasn't sure what I expected. The simple explanation was that there was nothing to leave for me, that all my family had were the things in storage.
But why the locked chests? Was my dad trying to do something special but had nothing to give?
I looked at the ceiling with a deep frown on my face.
No, my father wasn't the sentimental type. He wouldn't do something as useless as sealing the chests just to leave two books and a demon.
Assuming he left something more. Why hide it? Well, the answer was obvious: the spies. If he killed all the servants just to prevent infiltration, that would be it.
But would they be able to get into the chest?
Possible.
He had a fraction of his power in the later parts of his life.
So what would he leave for me?
What would it be? Something only I could get to.
I got up and started to walk around the storage to help me think. I finally arrived in front of the large crate holding the altar. The answer was obvious.
Abyss.
That was something others couldn’t replicate.
I looked back at the open chest. There was my family crest on the inside, with an abyssal rune in the tear falling from the eye.
I tried letting a drop of my blood fall on it.
No reaction.
I looked over the container for a spot that would stand out. But after dropping my blood on every imperfection, there was no reaction anywhere. Pressing and pulling also did nothing.
I went back to the crest. It was the only decoration on the inside. The rune in the tear resembled the letter S. It stood for forbidden knowledge or forbidden depths, depending on the interpretation.
“Geth’sahra,” I spoke aloud, pronouncing the Abyssal letter from the crest.
But nothing. I looked at the chest more closely, but didn’t notice any change. Nothing on the outside either. I looked around, checking if maybe something else reacted.
Wait.
I froze and looked closer at the rune. A dot was added next to it. It seemed like another imperfection in the wood, but it was slightly too even.
Or I was seeing things at this point.
The Abyssal language was more of a suggestion than a set of rules. Letters would change according to laws unknown to us. The dot next to the S would not only change the meaning to something I was not aware of, but it would also change the pronunciation.
It would give the letter an echo. Normally, when speaking with a human mouth, you would repeat the second part of the word, as you couldn’t add an echo with only one mouth.
To make sure I wasn’t going crazy, I did just that.
“Geth’sahra’sahra.”
Nothing once again.
However, that would be a solution for humans.
But I was capable of other pronunciations now. Could my father have foreseen it? That this, in particular, would be the bloodline’s manifestation?
One way to find out.
I flexed my tongues a few times. I needed to get the timing right to add an echo to the letter.
“Geth’sahra,” I spoke once again.
I finally got the echo on the third try.
The sigil started to squirm and writhe, as if it were made from many, many small bugs that now started to crawl into letters on the inside of the chest.
“Sam, my son,” the letter started.
I smiled. I knew my father wouldn’t just leave me with two books and a demon’s soul.
‘Sam, my son,
If you are reading this, that means you have reached the third circle. I want you to know that I’m very proud, and so is your mother. You probably have a lot of questions about yourself, about the changes to your body, about what you are. You most likely just shrugged and classified them as useful, waiting to do some research.’
I chuckled. My old man knew me well.
‘But I’m sorry to say I can’t give you any answers now. There are spies everywhere. I don’t know if it is my paranoia, but they are getting bolder. I prepared those chests for you, but they will probably be broken into before I can deal with those responsible.
I’m hoping that whoever does that won’t be able to read this letter. If it was already showing when you opened the chest, then know that a miracle bringer’s spy is very close to you and they managed to learn Abyssal speech. Inside, I leave you two books, a demon’s soul, and a family ring. If you found all of those things, then that's something to celebrate. If not, someone got there before you.’
“Shit,” I swore. I looked for the ring once again, but the chest was empty.
‘If something is missing, then one of the spies in the house managed to open the chest. Don’t worry, though, I doubt they will clean it out, most likely taking only the powerful-looking ring with the family crest on it. Worry not, the ring is fake. If it is still present, make sure not to use it because it will cause your nerve endings to grow out through your skin on the second activation.’
“Hehe. Just like my old man,” I chuckled, hoping whoever took it tried activating it.
‘I have left a present for you with our god. Just go to the altar and use the same word as for this letter. Watch out so that the vision doesn’t kill you. There is more I have left for you, but there are only a few safe places I can be sure of. Places for which you are not strong enough.’
I grimaced. I was really hoping my old man wouldn’t send me to the deep ocean or the Antarctic.
‘The deep ocean and what lies underneath the Antarctic ice are not places you can walk yet.’
“Fuck.”
‘For now, follow the path of our ancestors. Gather what was rightfully ours. Always proud of you, Dad.’
I sat there looking at the letter.
My mouth stretched into a smile as I slowly dragged my fingers over the letters on the inside of the chest.
The instructions to follow the path of our ancestors were somewhat cryptic. Was it just about gaining power, or was it something more? I need to reread the journals after I deal with the massive pile of things to do.
The missing ring was worrying. But many useful things were still present in the storage. So, my assumption for now would be that someone broke in after my father sealed the chest while they still thought they hadn't been found out. Whoever it was didn't take things openly, but later got caught in my father’s trap.
I sighed just thinking about the work to be done.
For now, I left my dad’s present for later, as I would need to get proficient with my two tongues.
After getting my mind off the mysterious spell left for me, I checked the last part of the present.
After rechecking the books, I finally found a piece of paper and a cyrograph stuffed between the pages, as if something my father had only thought of at the last second, casually added as an afterthought.
It was apparently a piece of bone from a dream demon. The idiotic creature was tricked into manifesting its entire soul in a dream of one of my family members. It apparently noticed that it was committing suicide slightly too late and ended up signing something akin to a slave contract. It wasn’t particularly powerful as it just hunted victims and stole their souls like common ghosts, but it could be useful.
The demon was supposed to turn over half the souls it managed to drag out to members of my family.
Now that I had some breathing room, I could try and locate the creature. Before dealing with the cage, once I get some soul crystals, it might be a good idea to put the idiotic creature to work.
But that was for later.
The rest of the day was spent on reading through the journals I got from the pouch and learning third-level spells. Thankfully, the cats set up a charging array at the mansion so that I could refill the spent crystals later.
The next day, I woke up early and went to meet Myhur and Ophelia at the training site. It was a property quite deep in the forest with a sizable backyard where one could spar.
I picked up Ophelia on the way, and we went to meet her martial arts teacher. I’ve been teaching her basic mana movement ever since I regained my ability to speak. She was also working on familiar manifestation. That part was going rather well for her, with the snake listening to commands eagerly.
We arrived at the place in the early morning hours and were greeted by my mycanoid friend.
After exchanging pleasantries, Ophelia was given her training rapier, which, to her surprise, was made from steel and fully sharpened.
I observed as she went through fundamental movements, showing some postures to Myhur, who, in turn, corrected her. This went on for a few hours. I was by no means a martial arts expert, but it seemed she was doing quite well.
“Gooood,” said Myhur after Ophelia went through a few stabbing motions. “Now we will spar a bit.”
“Spar?” Ophelia looked slightly panicked. “I haven’t fought anyone since high school tournaments. Shouldn’t we train more first?”
“III want to see your fighting instincts. I need to know how you act under pressure, what your dynamic vision is like, and what you do when surprised. Only then can I train you. Worry not, I will not make an attack you can’t block or dodge.”
This seemed to calm her down.
Ophelia and Myhur took their spots in front of one another. I could see she was watching him with a dose of confusion as the mycanoid was slowly wobbling from side to side when he moved around, not exactly a threatening sight.
Well, it looked like she would learn her first lesson about looks being deceiving.
Once they were in front of each other, I was given the task of starting the spar.
I smiled slightly, seeing that Myhur was still standing relaxed, looking like a big, clumsy mushroom with a beer belly. I knew where he was going with it.
“Start,” I shouted.
Ophelia immediately took a defensive position.
A mistake.
Myhur gave her some time before finally preparing to attack. I could see Ophelia’s eyes widen as his body changed.
The small mushrooms around the legs and arms hid inside his body, leaving only their caps visible, resembling plate armor of sorts. The white lower part of his torso twisted. With that, a sizable portion of flesh traveled into the upper part of the torso, changing the creature’s proportions into those of a bodybuilder. Lastly, the moss lost its fluffy texture, clinging to the white skin, creating another protective layer. Before Ophelia could say anything, Myhur exploded into movement.
Leaving torn ground behind him, he closed the distance to Ophelia almost instantly, arriving in front of her. He threw a punch at her torso, slowing it enough for her to be able to react to it.
Ophelia’s mind was sharp, as she quickly sidestepped the attack.
Myhur rotated, chaining one attack into another, this time kicking at her head.
Ophelia was moving well. Had she lost her balance after the first dodge, the attack would have connected, but she was still standing firmly with body weight on both feet.
She dodged, tilting back, letting the attack pass her.
Myhur stopped the chain and jabbed at her, like someone with a rapier might.
Ophelia took the cue and used her blade to defend against the attack, pushing it to the side.
Myhur kept excellent tempo, keeping the pressure and flow of battle just at the boundary of what Ophelia could react to. He did keep her on the defensive for now.
But that soon changed.
Ophelia jumped back and went into a low-guard position, readying for a stab. And sure enough, Myhur gave her the opportunity, stepping forward and leaving his lower torso exposed.
Ophelia stabbed, probably trying to get some breathing space. But to her horror, Myhur continued his movement, letting the point penetrate his lower abdomen as he slowly chambered a hook to her gut.
His strike was slow and clearly telegraphed, but Ophelia, in full panic mode, started trying to pull back the rapier so as not to stab any deeper, losing her balance in the process.
The fist connected right into her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her as she went down.
The battle stopped as Ophelia was on all fours, trying to catch her breath, a grimace of pain etched into her face.
Myhur bent down over the dry-heaving woman.
“IIIt takes flesh years to be forged into fertilizer that could birth a mighty forest.”
After dropping a pearl of wisdom that I’m sure did absolute wonders for her mood, Myhur let his beer gut hang and wobbled back to his starting position, letting me do the teaching this time.
I took a water bottle and approached my apprentice, still on the ground.
“Do you know why you lost?”
“It was supposed to be a spar, not a life-and-death battle. Is he fine?” Ophelia finally wheezed as she massaged her lower chest.
“He’s fine. And it was a simple spar. One you lost. Now, do you know at what point you lost?”
“At the point where I wasn’t prepared to kill your friend? Sorry about that, where I come from—”
“No, not that. Earlier.”
Ophelia raised her head, looking at me with clear anger in her eyes.
“Come on, when did you lose?”
She was clearly considering some less-than-pleasant words, but finally relented, sitting in a more relaxed pose.
“When I lost balance?”
I shook my head. “No. You could have jumped to the ground and given the spar.”
“When the punch connected?”
“No.”
“Oh my god, can we stop with the riddles, please?” she gasped, massaging the sore spot.
I considered bothering her some more, but finally sighed and gave her the answer. “You lost two days ago.”
“Huh?” She looked at me like I had lost my mind.
“When you were told you would be sparring against a mycanoid and you didn’t even try to find anything about them. You didn’t ask me for info or a book. That was the exact moment you gave the spar.”
“What? How was I supposed to figure that out? It was just a spar,” she replied in a hurt voice.
“A fight is a fight, Ophelia, spar or not. Sparring can be dangerous as well. But most of all, if you had done your homework, you would know that mycanoids push all of their internal organs upward under the protection of moss and mushrooms on their upper torso. Their lower torsos are just spongy flesh without pain receptors.”
Her eyes opened wide.
“Puncturing it is not something they even register in this area, and damage to their lower torso is a usual outcome of sparring for them. It’s something I would have told you had you asked.”
She sat there looking at the ground. “The punch was unnecessary,” she finally grumbled.
“Well, you’re going to remember this lesson. Preparation for a fight is what can guarantee a win, or at least help you get away with your life. This is a lesson I need you to remember well.”
She nodded her head. “So,” she finally sighed, “what do I need to know about mycanoids?” she asked.
I smiled at that. She was a quick learner.
