The estate's door creaked open with a slow groan, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man draped in a heavy fur-lined robe. His presence was daunting, but his eyes held the stillness of a mountain, unreadable and unwavering.
"Come in," the man said, his voice like steel scraping stone—aged, but unyielding.
Aden stepped into the chamber, its walls lined with relics of war—swords from ancient campaigns, banners soaked in forgotten glory. Seated at the grand table was none other than Zwalter Vasco, the former patriarch of the Vasco bloodline. His grey hair fell past his shoulders, and a long scar split the left side of his face—earned, not given.
"So… you're my grandson," Zwalter said, eyeing Aden with interest rather than warmth. "You've grown taller than your father was at your age."
Aden bowed his head slightly. "It's an honor to meet you, Grandfather."
Zwalter waved a hand. "Formality has its place, but this is family. Sit."
Aden took the seat beside his father, still processing the weight of the room. He was surrounded by legends, yet none of it felt familiar.
"You handled yourself well in Dahaka," Zwalter said with a grunt. "But that's not what I called you here for. Tell me, have you awakened the Wrath?"
Aden blinked. "Wrath?"
Zwalter's expression darkened. "So… not fully, then."
Ed leaned forward, a rare flicker of concern crossing his face. "Father, We're here because of the side effect. When I awakened mine, i lost the sense of pain."
Zwalter nodded. "Wrath feeds off the heart. It amplifies the strongest emotion. For you, Ed, it was pain. But for others… it can be worse."
He glanced at Aden, his stare piercing. "Rudeus was the last one like you. He lost his sense of fear."
Aden's eyes narrowed. "Rudeus…?"
Zwalter folded his arms. "My second son. Your uncle. He vanished after the war. Sound familiar?"
Aden did not answer. Ed picked up the pace "Aden awakened his wrath, for him it's his memories"
This is just what Aden had told Ed to cover up the fact that he was not the same person as his son, although they were in the same body Aden did not remember a single details about the previous Aden Vasco, all he had was just faint memories of him.
Zwalter narrowed his eyes. "Memories-- huh... How bad is it?".
Aden hesitated. Then, he answered, "When I woke up… I didn't even remember my name."
For the first time, Zwalter's expression softened—but only slightly.
"So it begins," he murmured.
Zwalter leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning the wooden ceiling above as though watching old memories replay across it.
"The Wrath of the Vasco bloodline isn't some gift to be celebrated," he said, voice low. "It's a curse we were born with… forged in battle, tempered by blood, and sharpened by loss."
Aden listened in silence as Ed folded his arms beside him, gaze darkened.
Zwalter continued, "Only a handful of us ever awaken it. Fewer survive it. Most Vasco descendants, even among nobility, are nothing but sparks that never catch flame. But when Wrath truly awakens…" He looked at Aden. "It devours everything else."
"And what triggers it?" Aden asked, quietly.
Zwalter gave a thin smile. "Pain. Injustice. Rage. It's different for each of us. But the cost is the same: the more Wrath grows, the more it takes from you."
Ed broke in, "For me, it was pain. For Rudeus… it was Fear. He lost his sense of Fear."
Aden stiffened.
Zwalter's eyes sharpened. "How much do you remember now?"
Aden lowered his gaze. "Nothing before I woke up that day. No name. No past. Only instincts…."
Zwalter nodded, as if everything had clicked into place. "Then the bloodline has chosen you."
Aden's brows drew together. "Chosen?"
"The bloodline doesn't awaken in just anyone," Zwalter said. "It chooses those who will carry the Vasco name into the fire. I saw it in Ed. I saw it in Rudeus. And now I see it in you."
He stood from the table and walked to the large window overlooking the far fields, hands clasped behind his back.
"Thirty years ago, when the former King fell, Sael and Vardian both leapt like vultures onto his remains. The war that followed should've torn this empire apart. But it didn't." He glanced over his shoulder. "Because your father and I were there."
Aden sat straighter.
"We turned the tide at Grellan Ridge," Zwalter said. "Ed alone cut through an entire battalion, and I held the front for three days without food or sleep. When the Vardians saw the Vasco banner, they turned tail like cowards."
"We helped Julius take over the crown and stabilize the battlefield," Zwalter said.
Aden paused for a second, Julius? , the Emperor ?, Aden was at a loss for words.
Zwalter's voice carried steel now, echoing with memory. "And when Sael tried to breach the river forts, Rudeus answered them. Alone. He turned their commanders to ash."
The room fell silent.
"To this day," Zwalter finished, "they still flinch when they hear the name."
Vasco.