Ace_the_owl
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Chapter 188. Father-Son Moment
🕑 Added 2025-11-20 04:09:02 +0000 UTCHey everyone! So I've decided to split the Gamble King chapter into two parts to make the pacing more even and add a few more scenes for better coherence. They're gonna be uploaded in a few hours. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
A few hours after the assassination attempt...
The wolf had been drinking from the stream for forty-three seconds.
Adom counted because counting was something to do while he waited in the undergrowth, knees bent, one hand resting against the damp soil, the other on the pommel of his sword in a grip loose enough that it wouldn't cramp his fingers if this took another five minutes. The creature's tongue lapped at the water with a rhythm that seemed almost peaceful if you ignored the fact that its muzzle was still stained dark from its last meal. Yesterday's meal. An adventurer named Kels Fortin who'd made the mistake of thinking a Rank A dungeon was a place you could relax your guard for thirty seconds while you checked your pack.
Forty-four seconds.
The wolf's ears twitched. Rotated slightly toward the left, tracking some sound Adom couldn't hear over the constant background noise of water moving over rocks and wind pushing through the canopy overhead. Its head stayed down. Still drinking and lapping at the stream like it had all the time in the world, which it probably thought it did considering how thoroughly it had dominated this section of the dungeon for the past week.
Twelve dead. That was the official count. Twelve adventurers who'd come down here expecting the usual monsters, the ones that followed predictable patterns and died to predictable tactics, and instead they'd found this thing. A mutation from long mana exposure. Something that had taken the standard Grimfang Wolf template and twisted it into something worse. Faster reflexes than the base model. Stronger jaw muscles. A coat that seemed to shimmer and blur at the edges when it moved, making it hard to track with your eyes even when you were looking right at it.
And it was smart. That was the part that had killed most of them. Smart enough to ambush, to retreat when it was outnumbered and come back when the group had split up. Enough to recognize that humans with glowing hands were more dangerous than humans with swords and prioritize accordingly.
Adom could take it down right now. One spell. Maybe two if the first one didn't land clean. The thing was dangerous but it wasn't invincible, and under normal circumstances he'd have already weaved and moved on to the next target.
But these weren't normal circumstances.
Arthur had invited him on this trip specifically. "Quality time," he'd called it, which was code for "I'm bored and you're going to help fix that." He'd put the sword in Adom's hands three hours ago when they'd entered the dungeon and told him—not suggested, told him—not to use magic. Only his skills. His nigh inexistent swordsmanship. The thing Arthur had been trying to drill into him for years now.
Adom had objected. Obviously. He was a mage. That was the entire point of him.
Arthur had just smiled that smile that meant the argument was already over and Adom had lost it before he'd started talking. "Humor an old man," he'd said, which was what he always said when he wanted something and knew Adom would eventually cave.
So here they were. Hour three of hunting in this dungeon with Adom's magic sitting unused while he fumbled around with a sword like some first-year academy student who hadn't figured out their specialization yet.
Forty-seven seconds.
Movement to his right made Adom's eyes shift without moving his head. His father was walking through the trees. While Adom had spent the last fifteen minutes carefully positioning himself in the undergrowth, measuring each movement to avoid snapping twigs or rustling leaves, Arthur strolled through the forest like he was taking a morning walk through the estate gardens. Hands loose at his sides, posture relaxed, feet crunching through dead leaves and fallen branches with all the subtlety of a drunk ox.
Adom sighed.
Then he chuckled, quiet enough that it wouldn't carry, because of course Arthur was doing this. Of course he was. Stealth had never been his father's preferred approach to anything, and age hadn't changed that tendency so much as refined it into a kind of philosophical position.
The ex commander of the Iron Wolves knights had supposedly retired after his last campaign, hung up his armor, settled into what was meant to be a quiet life of advisory roles and pension collection. That had lasted until he'd declared that sitting still was making his joints hurt worse than fighting ever had, and if Adom was going to go hunt monsters then he was coming too.
Fifty seconds.
The wolf's head came up. Water dripped from its muzzle as it turned toward the sound of Arthur's footsteps, ears fully forward now, body tensing in a way that Adom recognized from watching predators prepare to either fight or flee depending on what they saw.
Arthur kept walking.
He was wearing the same clothes he'd worn to breakfast this morning. Simple traveling gear. Leather boots that had seen enough use that they'd molded to his feet. A shirt that had probably been dark blue once and had faded to something closer to grey. No armor. No visible weapons. Just a man walking through the woods like he was out for a morning constitutional instead of approaching a creature that had killed twelve people in the span of a week.
The wolf's lips pulled back. Its teeth were impressive. Long canines designed for puncturing and tearing, backed by molars strong enough to crack bone. The shimmer around its coat intensified as its muscles coiled, and Adom saw the moment it made its decision. Not flight. This was its territory. Its stream. Its hunting ground, at least as far as the wolf was concerned, and this human walking toward it with no apparent concern for his own safety was either prey or a threat that needed to be eliminated.
Arthur stopped about twenty feet away from it.
He smiled, then whistled.
Two short notes. High-low. The wolf's ears flattened against its skull. Its stance shifted, weight moving back onto its haunches, and for a second Adom thought it might actually turn and run because even overmutated dungeon monsters had survival instincts and sometimes those instincts told them that something was very wrong with the picture in front of them.
But Arthur moved his hand before the wolf could commit to flight.
Just a small gesture. Fingers crooked. Palm facing up. The universal sign for 'come here'.
The wolf's eyes fixed on that hand.
Adom shifted his weight slightly, adjusting his grip on his sword, ready to move in any direction when this inevitably went exactly the way he expected it to go.
Here we go, then.
Without hesitation or even so much as a warning growl or preparatory crouch, the wolf launched itself forward.
One moment it was standing at the stream's edge, the next it was airborne, jaws wide, that shimmer around its coat intensifying into something that blurred its outline completely. Fast. Faster than the reports had indicated, closing twenty feet in less time than it took to blink.
Arthur stepped aside.
Just a small shift of weight that took him exactly far enough out of the wolf's trajectory that its snapping jaws caught nothing but air where his throat had been a fraction of a second earlier. The creature hit the ground behind him with enough force to send up a spray of dirt and dead leaves, already twisting to reorient, to find its target again.
Arthur's eyes never left it.
"Son," he called out. "How much longer do you intend to just watch?"
The wolf's muscles coiled again. Preparing for another lunge. Its eyes had gone wild now, prey-drive completely engaged, everything else forgotten except the need to kill this thing that had dodged it.
Adom exhaled.
Then he used his Axis.
White energy flooded out of him. It always started in his chest, right behind his sternum, spreading outward through his limbs in a rush that felt like fire and ice and lightning all compressed into the space between heartbeats. The air around him shimmered. The undergrowth where he'd been crouching flattened as if pressed down by invisible hands. Power. Raw and condensed and completely at odds with the sword-training his father had been trying to teach him .
He moved.
One second he was twenty feet away in the undergrowth. The next he was on the wolf, hand clamped around its neck, the white energy coating his fingers bright enough to cast shadows in the forest's dim light. The creature's momentum died instantly.
Adom slammed it down into the dirt with enough force that he felt something crack under his palm, pinning it there by sheer overwhelming strength while it thrashed and snarled and tried desperately to twist free.
"We said no hands or magic," Arthur said. "Just swords."
Adom glanced up at his father, annoyance flashing across his face hot enough that he didn't bother hiding it. "Father, this is a serious thing. We should kill it now." The wolf's struggles intensified under his grip. He pressed down harder, felt more things crack. "It's caused people to die. Unprovoked. Twelve of them. We don't toy with prey."
Arthur sighed. Actually sighed, like Adom had just said something disappointing. "You sound like an old man."
"I am an old man."
The wolf was strangling now. Its movements had gone from violent thrashing to something more desperate and erratic. Claws scrabbling at the dirt. Body convulsing. Eyes rolling back as Adom's grip cut off its air supply completely. The shimmer around its coat was fading, flickering out in patches like a dying flame.
A leaf detached from one of the branches overhead. Started drifting down. Lazy and unhurried.
Arthur drew his sword.
In one smooth motion, the blade whispered out of its sheath with barely a sound, and then he swung.
Once.
The wolf's head separated from its body.
Just the part above Adom's hand. The cut so precise that for a half-second nothing happened, no blood, no movement, just the wolf's upper neck and skull sitting there disconnected while the body beneath Adom's grip continued to twitch. Then gravity took over. The head rolled to the side, hit the ground with a wet thud.
Blood sprayed. Not a lot. Most of it was trapped below where Adom's hand had been crushing the creature's throat, but enough came out that it spattered across the dirt in a pattern that looked almost artistic.
The leaf that had been falling drifted past Arthur's shoulder in two pieces.
Both halves landed at exactly the same time.
Arthur sheathed his sword. "So much for a father-son moment."
Adom got back up, white energy fading from around him until it was just residual wisps clinging to his clothes. He wiped his hand on his pants—the wolf's blood had gotten on his fingers—and then held the sword out to his father, grip first.
"We should head back now."
Arthur looked at him for a long moment. Said nothing. Just took the sword back and slid it into the sheath at his belt.
Adom pulled a dimensional bag from his pack. Special issue. Guild-provided for transporting monster corpses that needed to be verified for bounty collection. He opened it wide and maneuvered the wolf's body inside, head and all, sealing it with a twist of the enchanted drawstring. The administrators would want to see this. Document it. Add it to whatever reports they were compiling about mutation rates in this sector.
A part of this dungeon was Wangara property. The thought made something tight settle in Adom's chest, irritation mixing with something closer to dread. A mutated monster like this, here of all places.
These, just like that spider monster from six years ago, were precursor signs of the World-Dungeon. Mana density locally increasing, warping the creatures that lived in these spaces into something worse than they'd been designed to be. It would get more frequent as the years went by. More mutations. Stronger ones. The mana seeping out of the dungeons in greater concentrations until eventually—inevitably—it would cause a mass break.
Every dungeon in the world rupturing one by one at a break neck pace. Transforming everything into one massive interconnected nightmare. The World Dungeon.
It was probably inevitable.
For now, Adom's best solution was to unify the nations. Get them to adhere to a treaty. Something that would ensure they'd help each other when it happened instead of fracturing into territorial squabbles while the world ended around them. But that was easier said than done with all the wars he was managing right now, all the political bullshit and border disputes and—
"Hey."
Adom looked up.
Arthur was watching him with that expression that meant he'd noticed Adom's thoughts had gone somewhere else. "Follow me."
"Where do you want to go?"
"Found a neat place here last time I was in this dungeon." Arthur started walking, not toward the exit but deeper into the trees. "Mostly hidden, too."
That got Adom's attention. "Last time? When were you here?"
Arthur glanced back over his shoulder, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Be patient."
They walked. The forest sounds filled the space between them—water running over rocks, wind moving through leaves, the occasional distant cry of something that might have been a bird or might have been another monster.
"Could have gone much faster if you'd let me use magic," Adom said after a few minutes.
"Yes," Arthur agreed easily. "Would have been over in thirty seconds. Maybe less."
"So why—"
"Because you don't have much time these days." Arthur stepped over a fallen log, turned slightly to make sure Adom saw the best path across. "In fact, we've seen each other five times this past week. Only five times. I wanted to spend today with my son."
The words hit harder than Adom expected. He felt something in his chest constrict, the irritation from earlier curdling into regret. Arthur had been taking it easy on the wolf. Drawing things out. Not because he was bored or because he wanted to show off, but because he wanted this to last longer.
There was a time when Adom would have given everything for a moment like this. When he'd have been thrilled to have his father's undivided attention, to go hunting together, to just exist in the same space, really. And here he was, wasting it. Annoyed that the fight hadn't been efficient enough. Or that this whole trip was cutting into time he could have spent on war management or any of the hundred other things constantly demanding his attention.
He was letting his work cloud his thoughts too much. His preoccupations. The future that was coming whether he prepared for it or not.
"We're here."
Adom looked up.
His eyes widened.
The forest had opened into a clearing that shouldn't have existed this deep in a dungeon. A fresh breeze moved through the space, carrying with it a scent so sweet and delicate it made Adom's next breath catch in his throat.
A river flowed through the center, crystal-clear water running over smooth stones that glittered in the dappled sunlight filtering down from above. And the trees—cherry blossoms, dozens of them, their branches heavy with pale pink flowers that drifted down in a constant gentle snow.
But these weren't normal cherry blossoms. The fragrance was stronger and richer, with an underlying note that could only come from concentrated mana. The petals themselves seemed to glow faintly, catching the light in a way that made them look almost luminescent. The grass beneath them was impossibly green, soft and thick like carpet.
There were monsters here too. Small ones. Adom caught glimpses of them in his peripheral vision, rabbit-like creatures with oversized ears, a few birds with iridescent feathers, something that might have been a fox disappearing into the undergrowth. None of them threatening. In fact, they all scattered the moment Arthur and Adom stepped into the clearing, fleeing not out of aggression but simple caution.
"Whoa..." Adom breathed.
"Nice, huh?" Arthur said.
Adom nodded, still taking it in. The way the light hit the water. The patterns the petals made as they fell. The sense of peace that seemed to radiate from every surface, like the clearing itself was insulated from the violence and danger that filled the rest of the dungeon.
Before he could say anything, he heard a sound behind him. Metallic.
He turned to see his father pulling something from his dimensional ring. A picnic set. Complete with a blanket, cushions, and—
Adom chuckled. "What are you doing, Father?"
Arthur set the blanket down on the grass, smoothing out the wrinkles. "I wanted to bring Maria here. For a romantic date." He started arranging the cushions. "But I needed to make sure it was safe enough first. Experience the place better. So you're my test subject."
He gestured at the ground. "Sit."
Adom moved closer, then froze when he saw what Arthur was setting down. A tea set. Delicate porcelain with hand-painted flowers running along the edges. The pot, the cups, the serving tray—all of it achingly familiar.
"No way. You were the one that took this?" Adom stared at his father. "I thought Ada broke it and hid it."
Arthur glanced up, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. "Well, with you all of a sudden liking tea and all, it took me a while to understand." He arranged the cups carefully. "These past few years, I've tried many of the tea varieties you recommended."
"But I thought you didn't like tea?"
"Not all of it," Arthur admitted. He pulled out a small cloth bag from his ring, tied with string. "But I did like some blends. I suppose I can see why you like it so much."
He held up the bag, and even through the fabric Adom could smell it. That same cherry blossom fragrance from the trees around them, concentrated and refined. "Had this made personally from these cherry blossom leaves. It's quite fragrant. Mana-filled too. Thought you'd like it."
Adom felt something warm settle in his chest, pushing aside all the tension and preoccupation that had been weighing on him. "I do. Thank you, Father."
Arthur waved a hand dismissively. "Stop being sentimental. Makes me awkward." He pointed at the cushion across from him. "Come sit down."
Adom moved to sit, a small smile on his face. "You know, you're no longer in the army now. You can just... I don't know, say 'I love you' and stuff."
"Ugghh." Arthur made a face like Adom had just suggested something obscene. "You're too grown for that now. Look at the little hair on your chin." He gestured at Adom's face. "It's cuter with Maria and Ada. I prefer tough love with you, so sit down, will you?"
Adom sat down, settling onto the cushion across from his father. Arthur poured the tea with steady hands, steam rising from the cups in delicate spirals that caught the light. The liquid itself was pale pink, almost translucent, with tiny fragments of cherry blossom petals floating on the surface.
Adom brought the cup to his lips and sipped.
The flavor hit his tongue immediately, floral, yes, but not overwhelming. Sweet without being cloying, with a depth that suggested layers he'd need multiple cups to fully appreciate. And underneath it all, a lightly tangy aftertaste that lingered, bright and clean.
The mana content was substantial. He could feel it the moment he swallowed, a gentle warmth spreading through his chest, his reserves filling in a way that was gradual but unmistakable.
"Good?" Arthur asked.
"Very good." Adom took another sip, savoring it this time. "Where did you find someone who could blend this?"
"Asked around. Called in a few favors." Arthur reached for the biscuits he'd laid out on a small plate between them. "Turns out there's a woman in the capital who specializes in mana-infused teas. Charges ridiculous prices, but she knows what she's doing."
They talked. Small things at first. Arthur complained about how guild bureaucracy had gotten worse since his retirement, how they'd added three new forms just to submit a monster suppression report. Adom countered with a story about one of his students who'd managed to set fire to a training dummy despite being enrolled in a runicology course. Arthur laughed at that.
The tea was excellent. The biscuits were better than they had any right to be. The cherry blossoms kept falling around them in a steady gentle snow, and for a while Adom let himself forget about his problems.
Then Arthur set his cup down.
"So," he said, voice casual. "Your mother tells me you've been... preoccupied today. After dropping Zuni and Bennu home."
Adom looked at him.
His mind immediately went to the decision he'd been putting off. He'd been intending to hide the operations he was running until he'd collected all the proof he needed against the Emperor. Handle it quietly, present Arthur with the finished evidence and a plan so clean there'd be nothing to argue about. That had seemed like the right approach. The safe one.
But if he was going to dethrone the Emperor and place his niece on the throne, then Arthur needed to know beforehand. Not after. Not when it was already done and irreversible. His father deserved better than being blindsided by his own son's political maneuvering, especially when those maneuvers could be interpreted as treason depending on who was doing the interpreting.
Adom took a breath.
"This is going to take a while to explain."
Arthur gestured around them—at the clearing, the river, the endless falling petals. "We have food. A good spot. Good company." He met Adom's eyes. "Gives us all the time in the world. Talk to me."
"Well," Adom said slowly. "Basically, today, the Emperor—or rather, the Chancellor—tried to assassinate me. By sending two homunculi."
Arthur stared at him, unmoving and not speaking. His cup sat on the ground beside him, forgotten. His expression hadn't changed much—Arthur had decades of practice keeping his face neutral—but Adom could see the muscles around his jaw tighten slightly.
Adom waited. Let the silence stretch. His father needed a moment to process, and pushing before he was ready would only make this harder.
Finally, Arthur seemed to collect his thoughts. "Why would the Chancellor—" He paused, recalibrated. "Why would the Emperor want to kill my son?"
"I'm not quite sure, really," Adom admitted. "But I'll be finding out soon enough. And I'll take care of them." He kept his voice level. "The Emperor has been trying to spy on our research. Stealing from us. I have people investigating the scope of it now."
Arthur was silent.
The only sound was the river, constant and soothing, completely at odds with the conversation happening on its banks.
"I know this is a lot to take in," Adom said. "I didn't intend to tell you before I had proof of what I was saying, but—"
"You said you'd take care of them." Arthur's voice was quiet. "What are you implying, son?"
Adom felt a flicker of relief. His father didn't like complicated things. He wasn't the type to dance around subjects or political euphemisms. He wanted the point. The core of the matter stripped of all the layers people usually wrapped around it. This would be easier.
"I am not intending to become Emperor, Father."
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then what are you planning? Who will be there if you destitute the Emperor?"
Adom took a moment. Let the question hang between them. The cherry blossoms kept falling. One landed on the tea tray, pale pink against white porcelain.
"General Soren's daughter. Princess Morgana Vi Savarnis."
Comments
Maze
Sure that was nice, but Ace also hurt his hands with that tempo, and he has his other story, Gamble King or some such ... yeah i'm bummed about that that too, but i recon writing two different stories is mentally heathier. Burnout is also a risk. I'd rather have cliffs that take a few days or a week to get resolved, than risk one of my favorite authors health mate ;)
Gwalmeich
Adom's here making sure his dad never gets to truly retire.
Viktor
These cliffhangers…. I remember times , when you was able to drop 5 chapters on us in a row:)
