Seated upon one of the smallest recliners, surrounded by his feral cousins, Tyr crossed his arms. “Don’t even think about it.”

  It was one thing for them to brush his hair with a coral comb, smooth and adjust his suit, and rub dollops of vanilla-scented moisturizer into the backs of his hands. However, when the fifteen year old—Meliz—pulled out what could only be aquamarine fingernail polish and some sort of mascara, he knew he couldn’t allow this to go on much longer.

  Tyr was already quite aware that he could only be thought of as extremely pretty. Mother’s delicate features and long, golden eyelashes must have been quite the dominant genes, though he’d inherited Father’s sharp nose and the villainous quirk of his eyebrows.

  Letting his cousins paint him up like a doll would take things too far. Even if he was wearing a suit, it was possible that people would mistake him as a girl instead of a stupidly gorgeous boy.

  It hadn’t happened yet, but everyone he had ever met had already been aware of his existence ahead of time. He really didn’t want to run into any other children taking their own Trial and have them swooning after him with heart eyes. Goodness knew what kind of effect his boosted Charisma had on top of his natural beauty. He wasn’t yet sure if his cousins were just baby-crazy or his cuteness was literally warping reality.

  Either way, it would be an awkward introduction to society for the future ruler of Valorwood, not to mention the greatest spellblade of his generation.

  Tyr shot a glance at Emory, who was sitting at a table with the other adults. They shared at least a quarter of their genetic makeup. Perhaps ageing would completely alter the nature of Tyr’s face and he’d end up with a lantern jaw and prominent gorilla brow too.

  Frowning, he looked down at his willowy arms. What was the proper age to start doing squats and deadlifts? He had spent his fair share of time running around and climbing everything, but the path of a blademaster required a proper, serious physical training regimen.

  Off to the side, his older cousin Caeden scoffed, as if sensing Tyr’s insecurity.

  “What’re you acting out for?” Cammy, the eldest, snapped at Caeden, though her grin betrayed her harsh tone of voice. “Going to pretend we didn’t paint you up every week when you were his age?”

  Caeden shook his head and looked away, the noble tilt of his chin showing that such childish antics were now beneath him.

  Elea, the demonic eight year old, sneered. “Do we have to bring out the photos? How do I put them on these wall screens?”

  Caeden gulped and raised his hands, waving them side to side in desperation.

  Thank goodness I’m the firstborn, Tyr thought. You have been forged under hellish conditions, Cousin Caeden. Perhaps there is more to you than meets the eye…

  The next fifteen minutes were spent sitting around while the girls regaled him with stories and recommendations about necessary spots to hit up in Valorwood. After hearing about various parks, guilds, reclusive hermits, and the like, Tyr was almost bouncing in place with eagerness. How long were they going to sit in this lounge while his parents caught up with Uncle Emory and Aunt Trisa?

  Seeing Excess Affinity - Totality had snipped his already-short fuse. He needed his Trial to commence shortly, though other concerns had to be addressed first.

  Once his impatience won out, Tyr slid down off the recliner, ignoring the ‘oohs’ and ‘awws’ at his elegant maneuvering. Patting his breast pocket to ensure he hadn’t lost his wand, he sauntered over to his parents.

  Leon turned in his chair, looking over his shoulder at his approaching son. “Yes?”

  Tyr took a deep breath. “Can I speak to you? In private?”

  Leon’s spectacles gleamed in the soft lighting. “Of course. Just me?”

  Tyr nodded, gripping fistfuls of the bottom of his jacket. Perhaps sensing the strange mood, Leon refrained from any teasing or drawing out the awkwardness. With a sharp nod, he stood up, placed an affectionate hand on the back of Tyr’s head, and led him back out into the tunnel they had come from.

  Before Tyr could request a more private location, Father tapped the frame of his spectacles. The sounds of conversation and footfalls of the servants vanished. A zone of silence seemed to have bloomed around them. At the edges, light distorted, curling back in on itself like some miniature event horizon.

  “What’s up, son?” Leon tilted his head to the side, his serious tone betraying his casual words. “No one can see or hear us right now. I’m hoping this is more than you being annoyed at some family time.”

  Tyr cleared his throat and went straight to the point. “One of my Achievements makes me worried about the Trial of Myriad Affinities.”

  Leon rubbed his jaw in thought. “Usually I’d tell you not to reveal your Status to anyone, but of course you can trust me and Mother with anything. Well, almost anything. Do you have some sort of Zero Affinity Achievement? Extremely unlikely. Actually, that should be impossible, given our Bloodline.”

  Tyr frowned, distracted for a moment. “Why? What’s this about our Bloodline?”

  “Well, it’s a bit of an open secret anyways, and anyone capable of piercing my Sesola of Secrecy in the heart of Valorwood already knows.” Leon shrugged. “I suppose it’s as good a time to tell you as any. Vision of the Omniscient more or less grants us a minimum of 1 in almost every affinity, depending on how pure your manifestation is. In order to see mana signatures, we must have at least that much of a connection to them. Not enough to cast even the most basic cantrips, but we can take in almost any sort of affinity-boosting treasure. Still, I guess you could be a Fae changeling or something, but in that case you wouldn’t reveal yourself so easily.”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  “Uh,” said Tyr. “I’m not a Fae changeling.”

  Leon winked and ruffled his son’s hair. “Sure you aren’t, buddy. Then what’s the problem?”

  “Have you ever heard of Excess Affinity - Totality?”

  All the mirth drained from Father’s face. Face pale, jaw muscles flexing, he picked Tyr up and began sprinting down the tunnels. The soft lighting from the crystals in the wall blurred from the sheer speed of their movement. For a Scholar, Leon must have had some pretty serious physical attributes.

  For at least thirty seconds they rushed down one curving tunnel after another. Finally, Leon came to a stop in a dark corridor, devoid of light. No signs of life in any direction, beyond the walls of Valorwood itself. Leon muttered something under his breath, and an orb of soft light flickered into existence overhead.

  Tyr blinked as he was set down. The world spun around him for a moment. He supported himself against the wall until the feeling passed.

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?” said Leon. “You aren’t actually a changeling, right? That’s one of the few reasons you would have an Achievement like that. In the normal fairy tales told to children, the Fae simply replace a newborn with one of their own. In reality, they feed the infant to the changeling so that it can take on all of the powers of the original. Very unlikely something like that could slip out under me and your Mother’s gaze, but…”

  Even though Tyr knew it wasn’t intentional, he shuddered under the weight of his Father’s presence. It was as if his aura was pressing down on Tyr, restricting his movements; even his thoughts were sluggish.

  “N-no,” he said. Perhaps it was his Father’s influence, but he had wanted to admit the truth for a while. So, perhaps foolishly, he blurted out, “I’m a Reincarnator from a world known as Earth. I promise, I didn’t steal your son’s soul or anything. At least, not intentionally. I never said anything because I was worried—”

  Leon heaved a sigh of relief. The pressure of his aura subsided. “Oh, thank goodness. Well, don’t concern yourself with that. No way you took over the original body and pushed out Tyr’s soul, if that’s what you’re worried about. We would have noticed something like that.”

  “That’s…good?”

  “There were a few anomalies in regards to your birth, though, and that clears up one or two of them. It’s actually quite a bit more likely that it was the other way around. You are Tyr, and you captured some lost soul at birth and consumed them. I guess the distinction is kind of meaningless though, as the two of you fused into one unique person regardless.”

  “Oh,” said Tyr. That was a relief, though also kind of…anti-climatic?

  “In that case, the presence of a fused soul is why you have an Excess Affinity. It’s still extremely rare, as it requires that both souls have the same affinity over 50 in the first place. And it must be a complete synergy. Some overlap in the aspects of the affinity, but also different solmaru that allow a complete natural Totality. I’d estimate the likelihood is about one in a billion.”

  “Oh,” Tyr said again. The revelation was so unexpected that his arrogance was completely suppressed. “Wait, so in my past life, I also had a magical affinity? But I came from a zero mana world, according to the System.”

  Leon waved a hand in dismissal. “That’s a shame, but it doesn’t really matter. You may have been the greatest archmage in existence back on Urth, but without any mana to sense or manipulate, you would’ve never noticed. Now I’m even more curious what your results will be. Our appointment is in a few hours, though what’s the point of being ancient nobility if you can’t pull a few strings? Let’s go.”

  ***

  Lost in a daze, Tyr let himself be carried by his Father for the first time since he was a baby. He barely heard the words as Leon explained to the others that they had to leave, refused to allow Emory to accompany them, and beckoned for Mother to follow.

  As expected, Mother accepted the change in situation with grace. After they left the lounge, she glanced over at them. Perhaps Father sneaked her some sort of hand sign or another means of silent communication, as her curiosity vanished, replaced with a thoughtful expression.

  Within a minute, they came to a wide platform set into the floor. A servant guarded the area, standing behind a crystal pillar covered with various runes. At the sight of the Hollan family, the woman bowed and motioned for them to step atop the platform.

  After they did, the servant’s fingers tapped one of the runes. A shimmering barrier leapt up around the perimeter of the platform. Then they plummeted, as if they were standing atop some unholy combination of an elevator and one of those amusement park drop towers. Tyr’s ears popped as they descended miles within a few seconds.

  He didn’t bother to stop his excited whoop from leaping out of his throat.

  Mild fear of heights aside, his mind felt elated. His most pressing secret had been revealed, something that he had agonized over and had cost him countless nights of sleep as he tossed and turned, wondering if he should expose his true nature to his parents. In the end, Father had accepted it as easily as if his son had admitted he’d wet the bed a few months ago.

  Tyr caught a glimpse of the Undercity a moment before the elevator platform came to a sudden stop. Towering wooden structures that seemed like natural extensions of Valorwood itself; squat stone buildings clustered into what may have been residential districts; massive crystal statues and fountains; all interspersed with lush, verdant foliage tamed into bridges, woven into structures, and more.

  As their momentum completely arrested and the elevator platform settled into the ground, Tyr leaned over and threw up. Leon unceremoniously tossed him aside, though he managed to twist in the air and land on his feet like a cat.

  Tyr shot his Father an aggrieved glance. Leon ignored it, instead inspecting the soles of his boots with a small frown.

  Mother stepped in, dabbing at Tyr’s mouth with a silk handkerchief. “Your dad is being, well, your dad. Don’t worry about him.”

  Leon shrugged. “It’s good training.”

  Before Tyr could protest the rough handling, a notification popped up across his vision.

  [ The General Skill Acrobatics (Common) is now available. ]

  Leon winked at him.

  This bastard can’t see my System, can he? Can he read my thoughts? Surely not…

  Leon winked again.

  He’s trolling me, right?

  “Do you need assistance?” The platform operator, a young man in a cheap suit, asked. A moment later, his eyes widened as he noticed who had dropped into his lap. His awkward salute was little more than him slapping himself in the forehead. “Lord and Lady Hollan! And this must be Young Lord Tyrus!”

  His stomach roiling with queasiness, Tyr wiped at his mouth and bowed his head slightly. “Greetings.”

  “See, son?” said Leon, beaming with pleasure. “Treat your people well, and they’ll recognize you in a heartbeat! That’s how you know we have class.”

  The platform operator looked conflicted as he pointed at a nearby statue. It was of Leon, quite a bit taller than the average-sized man, bearing a regal expression.

  Tyr stared at his Father.

  Father stared at Tyr. Finally, he said, “It used to be a statue of my own father. A real bastard. I had to replace him. He didn't deserve the honor.”

  Tyr continued to stare.

  “You’re not thinking of doing the same, are you?" Leon’s eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

  Tyr narrowed his eyes in response.