In as much as Aden didn’t care whether these nameless adventurers lived or died, he was quite intrigued with the challenge the mission posed to those strong–willed enough to sign up for it.

A thought crossed his mind as he walked unhindered through the throng of people and tuned out their loud voices from his mind.

This mission could prove to be very beneficial to Eren and possibly the other kids, since it would push them to their limits, just enough for them not to get killed, and who knows? Maybe Reiner and Armin could awaken.

‘I wonder if your sense of danger has been erased to such a level that you fail to understand how fast those worms will be killed if they step a foot in that place,’ the Entity said.

Aden’s hand grasped the exit’s door handle for a while before he drew it open calmly. ‘I’m sure they’ll survive. And besides, I’ll be there most of the time, so if something happens, I’ll be there to stop it,’ he argued calmly.

The Entity just let out a low groan and fell asleep. Something told him his host would be using his Void quite a bit.

Aden sighed internally before he walked down the path to his home.

After a few minutes of a rather satisfying walk, Aden reached the foot of his broken home. Despite works getting done in other parts of Grey-Rock, these parts of the slums where most people dwelled was still left as it was for some reason.

Not that he was particularly discontented with this, to be fair, he didn’t really care about his living conditions as far as it didn’t threaten his life, however, he was a little concerned for the children. What if they fell ill due to how bad the water was or catch a cold from the leaking ceilings? He hadn’t met healers ever since his reincarnation into this world, so he didn’t know how much they charged for their services, and he also wasn’t sure the feeding budget would cover healing as well.

With a face that looked as though it had aged ten years in a single afternoon, Aden pushed open the door, groceries in hand.

A strange, flickering warmth touched his eyes as he took in the scene. Armin and Reiner were huddled around Lorelei, mesmerized by the dancing flickers of her violet energy, peppering her with harmless questions. Lorelei’s eyes were crinkled into a soft squint as she answered them with practiced patience. Nearby, Eren sat in a steady lotus position. The moment the door clicked open, his eyes snapped toward Aden’s.

“What took you so long?” Eren questioned, his tone sharp with dissatisfaction. “And why are you carrying those? Why didn’t you just put them in your storage ring?”

Aden opened his mouth to retort, but the words died in his throat. He had simply forgotten. For once, it wasn’t the Void eroding his mind; it was the simple, human weight of a long day.

“Nice to see you too, Eren,” Aden replied tiredly, stepping past the boy to hand the bags to Lorelei.

“Welcome back, Master,” she said quietly, receiving the groceries with a graceful bow.

Reiner and Armin didn’t spare him so much as a glance. It was clear the embers of their resentment still burned bright, and unlike their eldest brother, they felt no need to hide it. Aden sighed, reaching up to pull the cord from his hair. His locks fell around his shoulders with a soft, heavy thud as he watched the duo follow Lorelei into the kitchen.

He walked over to where Eren sat. The boy had already closed his eyes again, returning to his meditation.

“How is the training?” Aden asked, leaning against the wall. “Is Zero teaching you well?”

Eren cracked one eye open. A weird, skeptical expression twisted his features as he took in Aden’s awkward posture.

“Why are you asking all of a sudden?” he whispered suspiciously. “I’m not ready to fight anyone yet.”

Aden offered a wry, tired smile. “I’m not planning to make you fight any human being,” he said, placing a heavy, lingering emphasis on the last word.

Eren opened both eyes then, narrowing them. For a long minute, neither spoke. They simply stared, a silent war of wills between the young man and the boy. As expected, Eren was the first to break. Letting out a low groan, he plucked a broken splinter of wood from the floor and tucked it between his lips.

“What do you really want?” Eren asked.

Aden looked toward the window. The setting sun was spilling a bruised orange glow across the floor of their modest home. From the kitchen, the aroma of cooking began to waft through the air, hitting Aden with a sudden, violent wave of nostalgia. He knew that scent; it was hauntingly similar to the meals Kaelthorn used to prepare after their most brutal training sessions.

His eyes refocused on the boy. He could see the mounting annoyance in Eren’s face, but there wasn’t much he could say. He reached for the only truth he had left.

“I want to know how you’re doing.”

Eren’s eyebrows furrowed, deep confusion clouding his gaze. He studied Aden for a long moment before averting his eyes and whispering, “We’ll be fine.”

Aden let out a low hum. It wasn’t everything, but for now, it would have to do.

Silently, he took to his feet and took a few steps to the opposite window, a perfect place to watch his only human Vassal prepare nothing less of a masterpiece.

He felt the kitchen soon became the heart of the home, its narrow confines struggling to contain the rich, savory steam billowing from the pot. Lorelei moved with a silent, ghostly grace, her violet energy occasionally flickering as she stirred the thick broth. The aroma was intoxicating, a heady blend of the crimson-roots’ earthiness, the sharp bite of wild leeks, and the deep, primal scent of the powdered bone-marrow spice.

Aden moved and sat at the small, scarred wooden table, watching as Lorelei set down four mismatched bowls.

The moment the first ladle touched the wood, Reiner and Armin were there, not even bothering to take their seats, their eyes wide and reflecting the golden hue of the stew. Even Eren abandoned his lotus position, his stomach letting out a treacherous, audible growl that shattered his stoic facade.

“Eat,” Aden said simply.

They didn’t need to be told twice. With an intensity that would have rivalled competitive consumers, Armin and Reiner dug into the meal. They hissed occasionally due to the spiciness and heat from the meal, but in the next second, they would go back for more. This wasn’t a haste that stemmed purely from hunger, it was a struggle for a taste of security they hadn’t felt since they were abducted and imprisoned in the Arena.

Aden took a slow, cautious spoonful of his own. The heat bloomed in his chest, and for a fleeting second, the cold, hollow ache of the Void seemed to retreat, pushed back by the simple, honest chemistry of a home-cooked meal.

“It’s… actually good,” Eren murmured between hurried bites, his skepticism finally losing the war against his hunger. He looked up at Lorelei, then flicked a guarded glance toward Aden. “Better than the shop stuff.”

Lorelei’s eyes crinkled in a silent smile. “Master chose the ingredients well,” she noted, her voice a soft melody over the sound of clinking spoons.

Aden didn’t respond, but he felt a strange, unfamiliar tightness in his throat. He watched Reiner reach over to swipe a piece of root-tuber from Armin’s bowl, sparking a small, hissed argument that Lorelei quickly hushed with a gentle hand on their shoulders.

The impulse to reach out and consult Zero flickered in the back of his mind, but Aden let it fade. Whatever intricate training regimens or contingency plans the encyclopedia was preparing for their departure were far less compelling than the scene unfolding before him.

He sat in the deepening shadows, watching the steam curl from the boys’ empty bowls and listening to the rhythmic, contented sighs of children who were finally, truly full.

In that silence, a decision took root. He silently pushed back the idea of dragging them to the Black-Stripe Gorge. The logic of the Entity that they needed to be tempered by the blood of Gloom-Creepers suddenly felt hollow. Why risk it? Why gamble with their lives against Abyssal scavengers that could cripple their cultivation journeys before they had even begun?

For the first time since his reincarnation, Aden wasn’t looking for a battlefield. He was looking at a home.

‘Cowardice is a comfortable cloak, isn’t it?’ the Entity murmured, though its voice lacked its usual bite. ‘You’re trading their edge for a few hours of quiet.’

‘I’m trading a slaughter for a night of sleep,’ Aden countered inwardly, his gaze fixed on Armin, whose head was already beginning to nod toward the table. ‘There will be plenty of time for monsters later. Tonight… they’re just kids.’

Lorelei caught his eye across the table. She didn’t say a word, but the subtle softening of her spectral features told him she understood. She began to clear the bowls, her movements as fluid as the violet energy she commanded, leaving Aden alone with his thoughts and the dying glow of the sunset.

He leaned back, the wooden chair creaking under his weight. The Harmonic Realm was supposed to be about balance, but as he watched Eren try and fail to maintain his meditative posture while fighting off a food coma, Aden realized he had never felt more balanced than he did in this messy, cramped, and leaking room.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep