First Flight to Gladiheim
"Hm."
Kyle turned this way and that in front of the mirror, examining himself.
Okay, gotta give credit where it's due.
"Whose son am I to look this good!"
Before he could even bask in that embarrassing truth, Arian swept him up in a dramatic hug, her voice bubbling with excitement.
"Tell me, my baby angel! Who do you take after to be so handsome?"
"...My mother."
"Tch! I told you to call me Mom!"
On any other day, she'd have ruffled his hair mercilessly for that, but Kyle had been primped and prepped since early morning. So instead, Arian pinched his chubby cheeks without mercy.
"This is my first time meeting the relatives. Shouldn't I act a bit more mature?"
Kyle tried to sound as grown-up as possible, even with his cheeks under siege.
It was all part of his scheme to shift from "Mom" to "Mother" while the opportunity was ripe.
"No need for that! Your mom here isn't exactly the picture of maturity anyway."
Arian couldn't resist how adorable her son was being. She hoisted him up effortlessly, spinning around a few times with him all dolled up in his cute outfit, then peppered his face with kisses.
"Kids are cutest when they're at their age. Our proud, prickly family's brothers might actually get wary if you act too mature."
For a fleeting moment, a chill glinted in Arian's eyes as she said it. Any ordinary child would have missed that brief shadow, but Kyle wasn't ordinary.
As expected. There's a story there.
She'd come back to her family home after sulking over her husband's seclusion, keeping even the birth a secret to avoid the household's scorn, holing up in the Rose Mansion.
That's what Arian had told him in the past, and Kyle didn't doubt it entirely. But hiding something as huge as childbirth? That was hard to swallow. There had to be more—reasons she wanted distance from the clan.
Still, it's not some crushing burden. She's taking me to meet them now, after all.
Or maybe it was heavy, and she was only going because her son wanted to meet his relatives. Deep down, Kyle suspected that was closer to the truth.
If so, then Arian was—something he'd felt countless times already.
A good mother. Having never known maternal love in his past life, Kyle found himself utterly immersed in hers.
Up to age three, he'd been too young compared to his past self to truly see this woman as his mother, so he'd played the son role with a twinge of guilt.
But now? Things were different. Kyle genuinely thought of Arian as his mom.
"Moth—"
"Mom!"
"Mom, put me down, please."
"You gonna keep using formal speech?"
"Mom, I'm five."
Back then, words hadn't come easily, and he'd lisped like any toddler. But at five, this young body moved much more as he willed it.
"Ooh, really? My big boy is five already? All grown up!"
To Arian, his attempts at maturity were just precious. She planted one last kiss on his forehead before setting him down.
"..."
Kyle wiped the red lipstick smudges from his face with his handkerchief, then checked himself in the mirror once more.
Anyway, credit where due—Arian's fussing was spot on.
He was handsome. Even at just five, it oozed out of him. Arian giggled at how he stared into the mirror.
"They say the family founder had red hair and golden eyes too. Over five hundred years, that blood thinned out, but it still pops up in the lineage now and then. Like you and me."
"Grandpa and the relatives too?"
"Just Grandpa and a few. That's why some relatives didn't like me much."
Damn, jealous over hair and eye color? Of all things? Kyle was dumbfounded, but he pressed on.
"Who?"
"Hmm, you'll meet them today anyway..."
Arian hesitated, then smiled brightly and patted his shoulder.
"Remember how many siblings Mom has?"
"Nine."
Of course he did.
Julius Alastor, current head of the Alastor family, had nine children.
First: Kartan Alastor.
Second: Katarina Alastor.
Third: Barkas Alastor.
Fourth: Jerard Alastor.
Fifth: Dante Alastor.
Sixth: Arian Alastor.
Seventh: Roel Alastor.
Eighth: Serros Alastor.
Ninth: Erica Alastor.
"Barkas and Jerard, my older brothers. And Roel. They didn't like me much. Hmm, and after today, maybe even more will hate your mom."
Barkas, Jerard, Roel.
Kyle committed those names to memory.
"Alright, Kyle. Ready to head out?"
The faint, wistful smile on Arian's lips vanished cleanly.
"Seril, we won't be back for a while. Take care of the mansion."
"When do you think you'll return, ma'am?"
"Hmm—I'd love to come back soon, but no idea."
After chatting with Seril, the head maid of the Rose Mansion, mother and son stepped outside.
The Rose Mansion, where Kyle had lived his first five years, was just as its name suggested—overflowing with roses. He'd never once stepped beyond its grand gates.
Towering walls and rose vines cut it off from the world. Heart pounding with excitement, Kyle gripped Arian's hand tight.
"Mom, we taking a carriage?"
"Too far by carriage. Warp gate would be fastest, but... at your age, the mana sickness could be rough."
Arian smiled softly down at him.
Five hundred years had passed since Sword Ghost Raikal's death. The world had changed beyond recognition.
Magic...
Mages had existed back then, but they were rare. Magic was the domain of dragons, elves, and the demonkin across the sea—not humans.
But after forty years of darkness, magic exploded in popularity. Training one took far more effort than a regular soldier, but they more than earned their keep.
With demons invading the continent, even reclusive elves and legendary dragons emerged. Magic became everyday.
Like ancient humans taming fire from lightning-struck trees, growing familiar until they mastered it.
Magic followed suit. Once rare and battlefield rarities, now mages were common, and magic devices everywhere—like the warp gates Arian mentioned. No need for horses or walking; just whoosh across distances.
He'd only heard of it from books and Arian, so it didn't feel real. But five hundred years was enough to warp the world.
Magic... magic, huh.
Kyle fiddled with Arian's hand, recalling past-life mages. Opponents he never wanted to face.
"So how are we going?"
"Hehe."
Arian grinned smugly.
"Kyle, ever dreamed of flying through the sky?"
"Nope."
"No...? Why not?"
"Dunno."
He'd truly never thought about it. His answer lacked childlike innocence? He glanced at her face.
"But now that Mom mentions it, I wanna fly."
"Yup! Knew you would!"
Her brief disappointment forgotten, Arian beamed and tugged his hand.
"Your mom will make you fly."
What the—? He blinked in confusion.
"Wha... huh? Whoaaa?"
Their bodies floated up gently. The ground receded slowly. Looking down in shock, invisible "wind" buoyed them skyward.
"Woooow!"
Flying for real. Kyle let out a cry of awe.
"Mom! You're a mage?!"
He'd suspected as much. He remembered the soft touch of the fingers that first gripped his reincarnated hand.
And not just then—Arian touched him daily, without fail. Those fingers, soft and supple.
No calluses from weapons.
The Alastors were a martial house—the greatest on the continent. For a direct-line daughter like Arian, hands that soft screamed non-swordsman.
So he'd guessed mage. Not just the hands—some gut feeling he couldn't pin down.
Yeah, this vibe.
Kyle's eyes widened as he took in the surroundings. The wind lifting them carried a "warmth" different from Arian's body heat or maternal love.
"Well... kinda like a mage, but not quite."
Arian giggled, stroking his cheek.
"I'm a spirit summoner."
"Spirit summoner?"
Kyle's eyes went wide. They'd existed five hundred years ago, rarer than mages. Battlefield-wandering Sword Ghost Kyle had met exactly one in his life.
Even in this magic-popular era, they were scarce. Spirit arts leaned heavily on talent.
No wonder.
Another piece of why she dreaded the family home. Born to a martial house, learning spirits over sword or weapon? She'd stand out like a sore thumb.
"You can do this—why haven't you used spirits before?"
Pure curiosity. In five years, she'd never used them around him. Always hands-on: hugs, baths, drying hair.
Wind like this could make daily life a breeze.
"No need?"
Arian smiled brightly.
"My daily life is all about you. Why use spirits for that? I wanna do everything for you myself."
"Ah..."
Kyle could only admire her answer.
"That's why the spirit's grumbling now. Complaining it's been too long since I summoned it."
"Really?"
"Yup. Might even hear it yourself. You're my son, after all."
At that, Kyle closed his eyes, focusing his mind and ears.
[...so... willful...]
A tingle.
Something deep inside "opened." A shiver raced through him. With it came a faint voice, riding the wind—barely audible.
"I... kinda hear something."
"Really?!"
Arian squealed with joy, hugging him tight.
"That's my boy! What does it say?"
"Too quiet to make out."
"It's fine! First times are always like that—no, this is amazing for a beginner. I'm a spirit prodigy and heard them a lot, but not on my first try!"
Her joyful voice cut off abruptly.
"The family might gripe, but whatever."
Her tone chilled unusually, but Kyle couldn't focus on it. His mind was locked on the faint spirit voice.
Never heard one in my past life, even around spirit users.
He recalled the elf who'd lingered near Sword Ghost Kyle back then.
How old was she...?
He shelved the thought—elves lived long. Opening his eyes, he looked down.
The Rose Mansion where he'd spent five years lay below, and farther off, the vast city of Vigrid—the Alastor domain.
"That's where we're headed."
High as they were, the enveloping wind kept them warm. Still, Arian pulled a child-sized robe from her pocket space, draping it over him and pulling up the hood to protect his hair, pointing north toward the city.
The Blade Mountains, jagged peaks like blade tips.
"Gladiheim."
The Alastor fortress stood atop those mountains.