Fathers' Pursuit of the Prodigy
"Who are you?"
"Stupid kid."
Flam slowly lifted his head at the sudden mutter. There stood Portus, his face twisted in utter misery.
At first, Flam thought it was directed at him and shot a glare back. But the next words made it clear that wasn't the case.
"You idiot. Can't even get a grip on your emotions and you get swept up in them. And you go wild with your ability on top of that. Hell, the one who came to stop you was Abel of all people. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic!"
Portus kept mumbling as he smacked his own head repeatedly.
That's right. The guy wasn't cursing Flam—he was berating himself.
A few days ago, that rampage had left him drowning in shame and humiliation.
Smack! Smack!
"…."
But the more he went on, the worse it got. Finally, unable to stand it, Flam approached and tried to grab his arm. Then he thought better of it and opted for a more effective approach.
Whack!
A sharp sting hit the back of Portus's head, freezing him in place. He slowly turned around.
There was Flam, who had just smacked him clean across the skull, clicking his tongue as he looked down.
"…What the hell?"
"What do you think? Stopped another rampage about to happen."
For a split second, murderous intent flickered in Portus's eyes. This wasn't the playful bickering they usually shared. Flam flinched briefly at the vibe but quickly crossed his arms, staring him down like, 'So what? Got something to say? Spit it out.'
It wasn't Flam's imagination.
"Sorry, but I'm not in the mood to play around, arsonist. Get lost."
"You think I want to be messing around right now? Just so we're clear—you're not the only one. Dial it back before we both look like total morons."
A warning to cut it out. Comfort that they were all in the same boat.
Portus got the point, his lips twitching. He let out a small sigh and turned away.
A moment later, he tossed out a question.
"Flam."
"What."
"You're fine with this, huh? After pulling that dumb stunt."
"You call that fine? Hell no. I'm dying of embarrassment too. But I'm sucking it up."
Yeah. Gotta endure it. Gotta hold it together. And reflect on it.
What good would moping do now? He could beat himself up over the mistake, but he wasn't about to get stuck there.
Instead, he'd push forward and improve. That was Flam's mindset—his decision.
"You're not the only one, so ease up. Rel lost it too, and even the prince."
"Hah. Three more idiots on top of me."
"…Hey. Don't talk about the prince like that in front of Empire nobles."
"It's the truth."
"Fair enough."
The two students, sitting back-to-back, fell silent for a bit before continuing.
"Still, you held up pretty well. Nearly got swept away by those waves."
"You too. Guess that month off wasn't wasted."
The rampage was a clear screw-up, but it wasn't all loss. There were gains.
They'd learned their ability limits, even if it wasn't exactly voluntary. Potential unlocked, at least.
"Thought you'd be moping around all slumped over."
"…?"
Flam whipped around, doubting his ears. An unexpected figure stood there, eyeing him.
"Ah, Father?"
Father?
Portus started to turn at Flam's shout but froze at the voice in his own ear.
"I was wondering when you'd stop wallowing in regret. At times like this, Sir Phoenix's son seems the better one."
"Father?"
The word "Father" slipped from both their mouths. They whipped around in opposite directions, stunned.
Over there: Sir Phoenix. Here: Master Sparrow.
The continent's top pyrokinesis and hydrokinesis users were approaching. No wonder the students—and sons—were thrown off.
"H-how did you get here?"
"Heard my son went on a rampage. How could I not come?"
"You didn't even say you were coming."
"You'd have tried to stop me."
Sir Phoenix gave Flam a quick once-over. Master Sparrow checked his son too.
Good—no major issues. Rampages could sometimes mess with abilities or the body, but they'd been suppressed right away.
"Already apologized to the professors on my way here. They waved it off, saying it was their job."
"Ah…."
"Still, don't forget to go thank them personally and say sorry again. You messed up big time, after all."
"Yes, Father. I will."
"Stopped by the prince on the way. He seemed down, but perked up when I said the palace wasn't making a fuss."
"The palace? That's a relief."
"Got a personal call from the prime minister before leaving. Asked if I could check on his son too. Saw Rel first—said he was still lacking as a warrior and was training alone. You should take a page from that."
"Rel was doing that?"
Four people chatting, but two might as well not exist. Then the topic shifted, forcing their stories to converge.
"Heard someone beat the professors to the punch."
"Ah! Yeah, I heard Abel jumped in without hesitation…."
"Who's Abel? You, Flam Phoenix?"
"I'll answer, Father. First-year from the Ascal Kingdom. Overwhelming in every way. Safe to call him the top student."
No hesitation from Portus. Master Sparrow and Sir Phoenix both raised eyebrows, openly surprised.
They knew their sons rarely praised others like that. Especially not Sparrow family members.
It only fueled their curiosity about this first-year Abel.
"Flam. You agree with Portus Sparrow?"
"…Don't remember it clearly, but I heard he sliced through my pyrokinesis—full rampage mode—with a single sword swing."
"For real?"
"Ho ho?"
Sir Phoenix questioned it. Master Sparrow stroked his chin, intrigued.
Phoenix flames were legendary. A mere student facing it head-on during a rampage? Shocking. Hard to believe.
"Looks like I've got another reason to visit the academy. Right, Master Sparrow?"
"You too? A bit annoying, but can't be helped. Let's go meet him."
Their sons still had far to go, but they believed in them as successors.
Yet those sons had rampaged. And Kalligo and Rel were no pushovers either.
One student—Abel—had handled all four alone until the professors arrived.
No real intent to attack, from what they heard. Just blocking stray rampage blasts.
What did that mean? Abel might outclass the four combined.
"Lead the way, Flam. To that Abel student."
"Let's go, Portus. Feels like we have to meet him."
Botanical Club Room.
It had been unusually quiet today. With four members absent, it was inevitable.
Irshu and Tarshu had stepped out for separate business too.
Leaving just Seria and Abel alone.
A golden opportunity for Seria.
They weren't often alone like this. Usually the four were together, or the ducal ladies tagged along, or all six crammed in.
But right now? Nobody else!
"Ahem. How are you feeling today, Abel?"
"…How do I seem?"
Abel had been struggling with power control lately. He blamed insufficient mental training, but Seria doubted it.
How to put it? Like a flower deliberately delaying its bloom.
"You wrapped it up nicely. Doesn't seem like your mind's shaking anymore."
"Good to hear."
"Anything wrong? You've been off since that incident. Not hurt, right?"
She edged closer, using injury as an excuse.
Then—knock knock. Flam and Portus entered.
A flicker of regret crossed Seria's face, but she greeted them quickly.
"Uh, um…."
The problem? They weren't alone.
"Hmm. Has to be you, from the look."
"Guess my eyes weren't playing tricks earlier."
Two middle-aged men eyed Abel intently.
Both had received a very out-of-the-blue request from Principal Ludwig.
"There's this really odd student involved in the incident."
"Would you two take a close look at him?"
They'd thought it was about checking potential. Nope.
You could tell just by looking. That unyielding posture. An unbreakable will no one could touch.
Even they might struggle to match it.