Chapter 69: The Truth
Tyler walked the bustling streets of Veridia, his brow furrowed in deep thought. The streets were packed with people talking, laughing happily, and loudly discussing business. The air was thick with the festive energy of the crowd, but to Tyler, it all faded into a dull, distant roar. He could hear nothing but his own racing thoughts.
He accidentally bumped shoulders with a passing stranger.
"Hey, watch it," the person grumbled.
"Sorry," Tyler mumbled instinctively, stepping aside and continuing his slow, dazed walk toward the town square.
*Just how is this possible?*
A memory surfaced. He remembered a time when little Heather had handed him an iron bucket using only one hand. Tyler remembered feeling the unexpected weight of it. He could easily lift it himself, of course, but it had been quietly surprising that a toddler could even get it off the ground. Now, all those strange little moments were starting to make terrifying sense. Tyler's heart hammered hard against his ribs.
*She's even a higher level than I am,* he realized.
He instinctively dodged around a group of people passing by, shifting out of their path without even looking at them. His mind flashed back to the day he first met James. He remembered how James had called him ridiculous, insane, even, for claiming to be an F-Rank. James had explicitly told him that only babies and toddlers as young as his daughter were F-Ranks. It was supposed to be impossible for an adult.
*She's even stronger than her dad.* Tyler's pace slowed, his boots dragging until he almost came to a complete halt. *I'm gonna need to talk to James about this.*
He forced his legs to move again, increasing his pace. *But what is he going to say? Does he even know about this?*
Tyler recalled the sharp, sudden shift in Lisa's demeanor. He thought about how defensive she had become, her warm tone instantly turning cold and protective.
*I can't tell for sure, but it's almost as if she already knew something was wrong.*
Tyler came to a dead stop. Looking up, he realized he had reached the town square. Before him, an absolutely massive canvas tent was being raised into the sky. Dozens of men were hauling thick ropes, anchoring the heavy fabric to huge, sturdy corner poles. But even standing in the shadow of the massive structure, Tyler's mind remained trapped in the kitchen.
*That's right. She did know. The night Heather dropped that spoon. Lisa picked it up so quickly and rushed her out of the room. She was trying to hide it from me.*
Tyler's eyebrows rose as he finally spotted James in the crowd. James was standing near the edge of the tent, putting his hands on his hips. He wiped a streak of sweat from his brow and turned to an older man working beside him.
"It's done, right?" James asked.
"Yeah, thanks for the help," the older man replied, clapping a heavy hand on James's shoulder.
"Anytime," James replied warmly.
As he turned around, James spotted a familiar face out of the corner of his eye. He smiled broadly as Tyler walked toward him. "Ah, Tyler. You made it. I assumed you stopped by our place on your way here."
"Yeah," Tyler said hesitantly. A small, tight, nervous smile touched his lips. He stopped next to James and looked up at the massive canopy overhead. "You've been busy."
James looked proudly toward the structure. "Of course. A huge portion of the festival is going to be celebrated right here under this roof. This is where everyone in town comes to enjoy the feast."
"I can tell there's going to be a lot of people in this tent. It's huge," Tyler said, watching how the thick canvas completely blocked out the bright morning sun, casting a wide, cool shadow over the square.
"It is. But the job's not done yet," James said, stretching his shoulders. "There are wagons coming soon. We've got to unload some firewood and a few other things. Wanna stick around and help?"
"Yeah, why not?" Tyler said, shrugging.
Internally, he thought, *I guess it can wait.*
Tyler pitched in, helping James and the others around the bustling Town Square. He greeted a few of the men working nearby as they hammered more support poles inside the massive tent. One of the workers handed Tyler a broom, pointing to the thick layer of dust that had rained down onto the cobblestones when the old, heavy canvas was first unrolled. Tyler immediately got to work, sweeping the stone pathways clean.
The supply wagons eventually arrived. Tyler spent the next while hauling thick bundles of firewood, stacking them neatly beside the tent. As he headed back to the wagons for another load, he saw James struggling to carry a towering stack of wooden planks. Two of the boards slipped off the top and clattered to the ground. Tyler quickly jogged over, scooped them up, and loaded three more planks into his own arms so he could walk alongside him.
"Thanks," James grunted, adjusting his grip.
"James," Tyler called out softly over the noise of the square.
"Yeah?" James replied, turning his gaze to look at him.
"There's something that I want to talk to you about. Something important."
James paused for a second. "Oh, okay. Alright, we're almost done here. Is it urgent?"
"Well..." Tyler hesitated, the weight of the secret catching in his throat. "It can wait."
They finally finished unloading the last of the wood from the wagons. Tyler dusted the rough splinters from his hands just as James walked up, handing him a wooden cup sloshing with cold water. Tyler gratefully gulped it down, relishing how the cool water soothed the dry heat of the midday sun and eased the dull burn in his muscles.
"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" James asked, wiping his own brow.
Tyler lowered the empty cup, glancing around at the crowded square. "Uh, not here. I wanted to talk to you about it somewhere private."
James's relaxed expression instantly tightened into something much more serious. "It's that serious?"
Tyler gave a firm, heavy nod.
"Alright. Follow me," James said.
But as James turned around to lead the way, he stopped in his tracks. Lisa was standing right behind them. She was carrying Heather in one arm, and holding a woven basket full of bread, covered by a checkered dish towel, in the other. Lisa had a tense, visibly nervous expression on her face.
Tyler's eyes widened in surprise; he hadn't even heard her approach over the noise of the festival prep.
"James..." Lisa said, her voice tight.
"You're here! And you even brought the bread, I was starving," James said, his easy smile returning as he stepped toward his wife.
Lisa looked right past James's shoulder, her eyes locking directly onto Tyler's wide, concerned expression. "Honey, may I have a word?" Lisa asked, ignoring his cheerful greeting.
James, completely oblivious to the tension, reached under the towel and pulled out one of the buns. He took a huge bite, chewing happily on the crusty, sweet, and slightly salty bread. "This tastes amazing," he mumbled. He swallowed and finally looked at his wife's face. "What is it?"
He stopped chewing as he noticed Lisa's expression had turned ice-cold.
"Let's go somewhere private," she demanded quietly.
James frowned, confused. He turned back toward Tyler. "Hold on, I'll be right back."
Lisa shot Tyler one last, sharp glance before she and James walked off toward the far side of the massive tent, disappearing from Tyler's line of sight.
Tyler swallowed hard. *Crap. She's going to tell him about what happened, isn't she?* He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, dragging his fingers back through his hair in deep frustration.
A boy who looked roughly Tyler's age, maybe slightly younger, emerged from the tent. His clothes were thoroughly caked in dust and dirt from the heavy labor. He spotted Tyler and his eyebrows shot up.
"Hey, so you're the one with the cup. Are you still using it?"
"Oh, no," Tyler said, shaking his head and holding out the wooden vessel. "Here."
"Thanks, I'm so thirsty," the guy said, grabbing the cup before hurrying right back into the busy tent.
Tyler sighed heavily, resting his hands on his hips. *What now? I thought I was just going to enjoy the festival with them today, but... things are going to be super awkward now. Can I even be around them anymore?*
His anxious thoughts were abruptly cut short.
From around the corner of the heavy canvas tent, James appeared. His relaxed, casual posture was completely gone. His walk was stiff and rigid, and as he marched straight toward Tyler, he wore a stone-cold facial expression.
*He kind of looks pissed off,* Tyler thought, a cold, prickly nervousness creeping up his spine.
As James closed the distance, his heavy boots crunching against the cobblestones, he abruptly stopped.
"James, I—"
"Follow me," James interrupted, the words clipping sharply as he strode past Tyler entirely, a gust of displaced air trailing in his wake.
Tyler looked over his shoulder, forced himself to take a slow, measured breath, and followed behind. He increased his pace to walk beside the older man, glancing over at him. James did not look back. He kept his gaze fixed rigidly forward, his jaw tight.
Tyler looked backward again and saw them walking away from the massive canvas tent. Through the shifting crowd, he saw Lisa holding Heather tightly to her chest, standing perfectly still and staring intently at their retreating backs. *What's going on?* Tyler thought, a heavy, sinking feeling coiling tight in his gut.
"James, where are you—"
"Shh... not here."
Tyler frowned. *Where is he taking me?*
He followed James and quickly realized he was being led down a route he had never taken before. The lively, booming noise of the festival slowly died away, replaced by an eerie, hollow silence. The streets grew noticeably deserted. The sweet scent of baked goods and festival fires faded into the damp, sour stench of mildew and dry rot. Discarded, splintered planks of wood lay scattered in the overgrown gutters.
"Where is this place?" Tyler muttered.
James then pivoted toward a crumbling, two-story building that looked like it had been rotting for decades. Jutting out beside the decaying exterior walls was a narrow, steep flight of cobblestone steps leading all the way up to the roof.
James stopped at the base of the stairs. Instantly, a very dark, terrifying thought hit Tyler. His eyes widened, his pulse suddenly hammering so hard he could hear it in his own ears. *Wait... he's not bringing me here to...*
James looked around the empty, shadowed street, scanning the alleyways. "No, someone could still hear us. Let's get up there," he said, pointing a rough finger to the top of the building.
Tyler followed James, climbing up the stone stairs. The steps were heavily cracked, weathered by time, and ground into a fine, gritty dust beneath their boots.
They finally reached the top. The roof was made of hard, sun-baked clay, dark and rough, feeling more like an uneven, gritty floor than a proper ceiling. The surface was heavily cracked and shifted slightly under their weight. Entire corners of the masonry were missing, and the wind whistled faintly through the jagged, decaying edges of the stone. It felt dangerously unstable.
From this elevated vantage point, a cooler breeze blew against Tyler's face. He could see almost the entire town sprawled out below. The distant, muffled roar of the marketplace drifted up to them. The town square was a vibrant sea of moving colors packed tightly under the massive tent. Further out, he could spot the neatly maintained, freshly painted houses of James's neighborhood, standing in stark, bright contrast to the gray ruin they stood upon.
"Tyler," James said, finally turning around to face him. "What is it that you wanted to tell me?"
James's voice was deep and entirely serious. His expression carried a heavy, almost deadly atmosphere that seemed to suck the air out of the space between them. Tyler's heart was ramming rapidly against his ribs, but he forced himself to exhale a long breath until his pulse slowed down.
"James," Tyler said steadily. "Your daughter, Heather. Did you know?"
"About what?" James asked.
*Did Lisa not tell him? Or is he testing me?* Tyler wondered.
"Her rank. Heather is a C-Rank."
James paused, staring blankly at Tyler. For a fraction of a second, the older man looked genuinely surprised, his stoic mask slipping to reveal pure confusion.
"That's ridiculous," James scoffed, though his right hand unconsciously clenched into a white-knuckled fist at his side.
"It's true. I saw it with my own eyes. The system said—"
"Your system is wrong," James interrupted sharply, his voice echoing off the clay.
"That's not true," Tyler replied.
"You said it yourself," James countered, his voice rising in volume. "Something's wrong with your system."
"If you really thought that, why would you bring me all the way over here? And how do you explain this?" Tyler challenged. He yanked back his sleeve, thrusting his forearm forward.
The raw, blistered red imprint of Heather's tiny hand stood out violently against his skin.
James's eyes widened in pure, unfiltered shock. *How did I not notice that before?* he thought to himself.
"Heather literally burned my arm when I held her," Tyler explained, pressing the issue. "Her hands were glowing red. Not only that, but I know that one night, she actually melted a solid spoon. Your wife tried to hide it from me, but... she couldn't."
James stared at the burn mark, his face twisting in complete bewilderment. Tyler paused, watching the older man intensely.
"Heather is a Fire Mage, right?" Tyler asked.
"How can this happen?" James muttered, all the color rapidly draining from his face until he looked deathly pale.
Tyler frowned at the response, feeling a spike of genuine confusion. James lifted his trembling hands, burying his face in his palms in a display of deep, overwhelming frustration. When he spoke, his voice was a ragged whisper.
"This is exactly what I feared."
"What? What is it?"
James stumbled backward, his boots scraping loudly against the dry clay, as if he had suddenly lost all the strength in his legs. Seeing him sway, Tyler hurried forward to catch him.
James immediately shot a hand out. "Stop!"
Tyler froze midway.
James slowly took a few unsteady steps back and sank down heavily onto the jagged, crumbling edge of the roof.
"James, are you alright?" Tyler asked.
He could clearly hear the older man's ragged, wheezing breaths. James was gasping for air, his chest heaving violently as if he were suffocating. Thick beads of cold sweat had broken out across his forehead.
"I'm fine," James snapped, his tone laced with defensive aggression.
Tyler sighed, crossing his arms. "Just... what is it that you're not telling me?"
Slowly, James managed to calm his erratic breathing, taking deep, shuddering gulps of air as if he were recovering from a grueling marathon. But Tyler's concern only grew. The older man looked physically shattered.
"After all these years," James murmured, slowly shaking his head. The aggressive energy had entirely evaporated from his tone, replaced by the hollow, exhausted sound of a man who had finally given up. "I thought... I thought this wouldn't happen. But to think that I'd find out this way."
"Find out what?" Tyler asked calmly, the wind rustling his clothes.
James lifted his head to look at Tyler. He let out a long, defeated sigh. "Come here," James said, weakly patting the rough stone beside him.
Tyler walked up and sat down beside James on the edge of the roof, his legs dangling over the precipice. James closed his eyes for a long moment, letting out another heavy breath. When he opened them, he stared out over the vast expanse of the town.
"How do I put this? There's no use trying to hide it anymore. Actually... I think I'm glad that you were the one to find out."
Tyler frowned, but he did not pry, sitting quietly while the older man searched for the right words. James paused, looking down at the empty, shadowed streets far below them.
"Remember the story I told you about? About the hero?"
"Yeah," Tyler nodded, completely confused about where this was going.
"Well, I told you about the hero having descendants, right?"
"I remember."
James turned his head slowly to look Tyler directly in the eyes. "Well, the truth is... I'm one of them, Tyler. I'm one of the descendants of the hero."
Tyler's eyes widened in absolute shock, his heart almost coming to a dead stop in his chest.
"What?" he breathed.