Edward Grant knew his son like the back of his hand. To say that Nero was passionate about school would be overselling it, but during the last few years at least he had put in some effort towards it. Still, seeing him jump out of a hospital bed in a rush to get to school was about as believable as the fog around Valeriya disappearing, revealing a wonderland behind it.

But he remembered what it was like to be a teenager, so he didn’t point out how obvious his son was being. He only hoped that Nero was running away to go see a girl or something, instead of, you know, the usual of plotting revenge against his enemies.

“Here, take this,” Edward said as he threw a money clip towards Nero, containing 500 Krims, the local currency in Kolar. “Your bag is gone and you’re probably not going to be able to get your knife back anytime soon. But a young man shouldn’t be without any protection, so on your way to school, buy yourself some of the essentials.”

Nero was momentarily stunned by the amount of money his father had given him, but when he heard he’d have to buy a new knife, it made sense. 500 Krims was a lot of money, especially for a 15-year-old. Even after buying a very, very good knife, he’d have around 200 Krims left. For comparison, 1 Krim was enough to buy enough meal rations for one time for an adult. Of course, how many rations one could buy depended on their available quota, but the idea was still the same.

“You’re making me very double minded about not getting hospitalised again,” Nero joked as he jumped off the bed. His father snorted, but said nothing else. His clothes were folded neatly on a table beside him, so Nero wasted no time in grabbing them and changing out of the hospital gown in the bathroom.

“What time is it?” he asked as he walked out of the bathroom looking for his shoes.

“2:57 pm,” Edward said while flipping a page. “Oh look here, there’s a discount at Maxim’s Card shop if you buy cards on the day you stabilise. Might want to stop by on the way. Looks like a good deal.”

“I’ll drop by on the way. See you later, dad.”

“Don’t forget to buy yourself a new phone,” Edward reminded as his son rushed out of the door.

Something clicked in Nero’s mind. His phone must have gotten lost or broken during the ordeal in the morning. No wonder his father gave him so much money. After buying a knife, a phone and some daily essentials, he’d probably have nothing left.

Without much ceremony, Nero quickly left the hospital. If there was any paperwork that was needed on his behalf to check out, then his dad would probably take care of it.

Outside the hospital was a rack of rentable cycles, one of which Nero pulled out and hastily began making his way towards the city. Public transport was only available along the main roads and important parts of the city, so a cycle would serve him better overall.

His destination was not close, and would take him about twenty minutes to reach, allowing him some time to finally reflect on what had happened. Just a few hours ago, he was fighting for his life in a building filled with invading terrorists.

But while Nero did not know all of their agenda, he knew that at least one of the terrorists had been targeting one of the Heralds, Invictus, at the behest of someone from the local community.

His grip on the handlebar tightened. This was just another example of the decaying corruption that filled Kolar. Nero had thought a lot about this over the past few years, and studied a lot to better understand the world.

He studied history, both national and international, in as much detail as he could. He studied gossip magazines and propaganda leaflets, alongside the official statements for various events. He even asked his parents about them, if they happened to be around. The one thing Nero learned was that the truth was always more complicated than it seemed.

Therefore, he had no intention of revealing what he knew to the authorities. It might not really help Invictus in any way, but would definitely place Nero on the radar for whoever was hunting the Herald. The best course of action would be to step back from the scene silently and focus on his own growth.

No matter what else happened, the sight of Invictus fighting off an Arcanist had a big impact on Nero. If others could do it, then there was no reason why he couldn’t do it, and just because others couldn’t do it didn’t mean he couldn’t do it either. This was a personal motto he repeated to himself often when he was intimidated by the monumental size of the task ahead of him. But today was the first time he was inspired by the actions and capabilities of another, and wanted to replicate them.

The rest of his ride was very sombre, as he reflected on the surreal experience of fighting for his life in the morning, then rushing to complete his tasks in the afternoon.

But eventually, Nero reached his destination, and the time to let his emotions wander was at an end. The teenager steadied himself, and in fact pushed away most of his emotions, looking somewhat cold. The process was similar to how he got ready to face dangers right after he had synchronised.

In front of him was a tattoo parlour. They were not exactly common in Kolar, but it wasn’t as if they didn’t exist either. He eyed the endless characters and designs made on the tinted windows and walls of the shop, often seeing prominent symbols and famous insignias.

They looked impressive, but Nero was not here to admire the art, so he stopped wasting time and walked in, ringing the hanging door bell inside.

Soft, soothing music played inside the store, contrary to what Nero had expected, and the rest of the shop was plastered in endless hand drawn designs, making it look both messy and yet remarkable at the same time.

A young girl was seated on a stool right in front, playing with a pen in her fingers, her hand partially covered with fingerless gloves, as she looked at the sketchpad in front of her. A strand of long, black hair hung loosely from the bun she had otherwise made, held in place with yet another pen.

Despite the ringing of the doorbell, she did not seem to realise Nero had entered, or if she did, she ignored him as she continued to focus on her art. Nero did not interrupt her, but instead watched silently.

She was fair, incredibly so, which only made the countless tattoos on her body pop out more. There was the red crow, the flying baby whale, the wolf, the abandoned castle and the cloudy mountain, all on her right hand, each tattoo giving space to one another, yet somehow seeming to be a part of a single work of art. These were the ones Nero already knew of, but newer additions had appeared. There was a broken sword, dripping with blood.

“I can feel your stare in my bones, kid,” she finally said as she put down her pad. It seemed like she would finish her work later. “It’s been a few months since I saw you last. You haven’t even dropped me a message in all this time, so I’m surprised to see you here. Tell me, what’s up?”

Nero did not reveal his usual extroverted smile, nor did he crack a joke. Instead, he maintained his somewhat aloof and distant demeanour.

“I synchronised this morning,” he said, as if that would explain everything – and indeed it did.

“Oh, it happened already?” she asked, with a sad smile on her face. “Wait, I should have guessed based on your eye colour. So it’s time, huh?”

“Irene, you don’t need to do this,” Nero said, his voice cold and distant. “It’s been two years. Patrick’s probably dead. No one would blame you for moving on. You should move on. You still have a full life ahead of you.”

The girl’s warm smile froze, but her gaze remained fixed on Nero. He was getting ready for her to scold him, but he was not expecting that she would rush at him too quickly for him to respond. Before he knew it, the woman, who was slightly taller than him, was standing right in front of him, pulling his ear as if she were his mom.

“He’s your older brother. It’s disrespectful to call him directly by his name,” she said in an instructing tone. “And don’t you dare pretend like he means any less to me than any of you.”

She let go of his ear and took a step back, her smile completely vanished now as she maintained eye contact with Nero.

“I never told anyone this, because I didn’t want anyone to feel hurt, but before he was taken in, he knew it was going to happen. He came to me, and told me something was about to happen.”

Nero raised an eyebrow as he was clearly hearing something new. Did his parents know about this?

“Your brother was a man, Nero. A true man. When he told me that something might happen to him, I thought he was going to break up with me.”

Irene held up her hand and removed the glove from her left hand, revealing a small, round tattoo on her third finger. Nero felt his heart drop as he realised something he couldn’t quite believe.

“Instead of breaking up with me, he married me. He tattooed this ring on my hand himself and promised to make it back alive and bring me home and officially introduce me to the family. So no, Nero, I won’t forget my husband and just move on.”

Nero trembled as he looked at Irene… no, as he looked at his sister-in-law in the eyes, and saw the depth of her emotions. Suddenly, a tinge of guilt appeared in his heart. He had been ignoring her for months, hoping she would forget his brother. There was no reason she should throw her life away. She was still young. But… but he had clearly underestimated her too much.

He bowed to her, to show his sincerity, but also to hide the welling emotion in his eyes.

“My apologies, sister-in-laws. You… it, it must have been tough these past few years, not telling anyone.”

Nero’s voice changed drastically, and no longer did he try to be distant. Instead, warmth and acceptance filled his voice.

“Come on, kid. We’re family. No need for the formalities. Now take your shirt off, I’d rather we get right into work.”

Nero nodded and made his way to a chair nearby and removed his shirt. Irene’s innate ability was a unique one, and it was incredibly powerful too. She could use ink to replicate the effect of Eldrim cards, making her one of the few humans alive who could wield magic without the need for cards.

Of course, she had synchronised nonetheless. But the point was, she could replicate the effects of any card with her ink, regardless of their star level. It was a broken ability, which is why she hardly ever shared the details of it with anyone. He was one of the few people who knew about it.

“So does that mean you’re not Irene Hammel anymore?” he asked, still wrapping his head around the fact that his brother secretly got married. Between the two of them, Nero had always been the crazy one, while Patrick was the responsible one. But maybe… that was not really true.

“It’s Irene Grant now,” she said, before placing her nail on his back. “Now let me focus, kid. I’ve been planning this one for years.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep