chapter 02 the bet and a new friend

At that moment, my mother stepped out to see who it was. As she opened the door, an elderly woman entered—her gray hair tied in a flawless bun and her gaze so sharp it felt like it could pierce straight through you.
It was my grandmother.
My mother had already told me her name: Teresa.

She wore elegant yet modest clothing of fine quality, and carried a cane she clearly didn’t need—it was more of a symbol of authority than a support. Every step she took seemed to echo through the room, as if announcing her dominance.

My father looked away the moment he saw her, crossing his arms and pretending not to care. It wasn’t exactly a secret that they didn’t get along.

“Well, at least the house is still standing,” my grandmother said as she walked in, her raspy voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Mother…” my mom replied in a tense but polite tone.

Grandma Teresa scanned the room with sharp eyes until they settled on me. She examined me from head to toe without a hint of subtlety, like she was sizing up a defective weapon.

“You must be Darius… You already have the face of a stubborn teenager.”
“Nice to meet you, Grandma,” I replied with a forced smile.
“I didn’t come here for pleasantries,” she shot back. “I just want to see what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into this time.”

I looked at her, puzzled. Trouble? What was she talking about?

My mother frowned slightly, but before she could speak, Grandma continued.

“I heard you’ve chosen the path of magic. Are you really going to waste your bloodline like that?”

My fist clenched slightly, but I kept calm. It wasn’t the first time I’d been scorned for choosing magic… and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“I don’t think it’s a waste,” I said firmly. “I just believe no one’s truly figured out how to use it right.”

Teresa narrowed her eyes. For a moment, it looked like she might smile… but she simply turned away with disdain and took a seat.

“We’ll see how long those words last once the world crushes you. At least my other grandson, Lif, chose the fruit path. He’ll have a much brighter future than you,” she said, crossing her legs with elegance, as if her words were undeniable truth.

I felt a fire ignite within me at the sound of that name.

My cousin. The favorite. The pride of the family.

We’d been compared since we were kids. He was always strong, charismatic, skilled with fruit abilities. I… was just the odd one who spent hours reading about magic while the others trained with swords or honed their supernatural powers.

But this time, I didn’t look away. Not now.

“Then I guess I’ll prove to you he chose wrong,” I replied, my voice calm but resolute.

My grandmother raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my audacity.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that… But guts don’t win wars.”
“And neither do those who settle for less,” I replied, holding her gaze.

Silence fell over the room. My mother watched me with concern. My father seemed intrigued. And Teresa… simply smiled, faintly—half mockery, half approval.

“We’ll see how far you get, Darius,” she said as she stood. “I won’t wish you luck. I don’t believe in it. But if you fail, remember—I warned you.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the backyard as if she hadn’t just dropped an emotional bomb in the middle of the living room. But before stepping out, she paused for a second without turning back.

“Don’t just say empty words. Prove it to me. Show me you’re worthy of the Braun name.”

Silence.

Her figure faded into the garden, those final words lingering in the air like a dagger lodged in my chest.

I clenched my fists. I could feel my blood boiling.

“I will… even if I have to tear the world apart to do it,” I whispered, fists trembling.

My mother came over quickly, trying to ease the tension in the room. Her presence was always calming, like an invisible shield.

Then, as if nothing had happened, my grandmother turned back and handed my mother a strange box.

“Daughter, I want you to keep this safe. It’s very valuable… and don’t open it,” she said with an enigmatic smile.

My mother accepted it calmly, not asking any questions. My grandmother teased me and let out a brief chuckle before leaving the house. She walked out the front door with the same cold elegance she had arrived with.

…Wait, is my grandmother bipolar?

Now I get why my dad can’t stand her. Ha, that old man and his family drama…

“Hey, old man, I get you now… I see why you can’t stand Grandma,” I whispered to him with a grin.

My father looked at me, his usual ridiculous expression returning.
“Right? You get me, son… unlike your mother…” he said, fake tears welling up in his eyes. That man’s always been a character.

“Haha, yeah, Dad. Now we’re both in this…”

But right then, my mom appeared behind us and gave both of us a light smack on the head.

“Stop acting so immature! And you, sweetheart… be a better father.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight. It was a common scene, but a warm one. A good life… for now.

I want to be a better son to them, I thought.

After that little father-son skirmish, I got up from the table, took a bath, got dressed, and headed out to the living room—only to find my parents hugging after their argument. Yep… those two. What a pair.

“Mother, Father, I’m heading out to walk around the village. I won’t be long. I’ll be back tonight,” I said with a smile.

My father smirked. “Just don’t get into trouble, you spoiled brat…”
And my mother only smiled warmly at me. It must be hard for her to see how much I’ve grown, but I won’t leave her behind.

I left the house. The village wasn’t small, but I was glad the university wasn’t far away. It would start tomorrow, and while I was excited, I knew I had to stay sharp. I greeted the neighbors as I walked—they all knew me well since I always tried to help whenever I could.

I followed the same path as always until I reached the great tree on the hill. That place always helped me relax and clear my mind.

But this time, when I arrived, I saw a boy around my age. He looked disoriented and confused. I approached him, concerned.

“Are you okay?” I asked as I neared him cautiously.

He turned suddenly, startled. After a moment of awkward silence, he replied:

“N-nothing’s wrong… Who are you? Why are you talking to me?”

Despite his reaction, I was glad he answered. He seemed lost, but not closed off.

“My name’s Darius, nice to meet you. I just come here often… This tree helps me think. And you? What’s your name?”

The boy seemed to calm a bit. He took a deep breath before answering:

“I’m Cris… and I’m 14.”

“Huh? We’re the same age, haha…” I smiled. “What are you doing here? What’s your ability?”

“You sound like a guard or something,” he replied with a faint smile. “But don’t bug me. I’m a magic fruit user. I gained the power of the Moon God… and honestly, I’m kind of nervous. Everyone expects a lot from me.”

His voice trembled at the end. He was clearly under a lot of pressure.

“Well, I’m a mage. Advanced level,” I said with a relaxed smile. “I get it. People’s expectations can be overwhelming… but you can’t give in to that.”

“A mage?” he said with a mocking laugh. “That’s funny. You made the wrong choice, haha…”

I frowned slightly, stung by the comment.

“That’s kinda rude… and here I was hoping to be your friend,” I replied, pretending to be offended, but in a playful tone.

Cris looked at me for a second, then let out a more genuine laugh.

“Don’t be mad. It’s just… it feels good to talk to someone who isn’t obsessed with my power. Someone who doesn’t keep asking what I’ll do with it or how strong I am. It’s exhausting…”

We shook hands and smiled. He was different from the others who just mocked me constantly. I was glad he was different…

After that, I sat beside him. Cris looked at me curiously and asked:

“So what kind of magic do you use?”

The question caught me off guard, but I answered without hesitation:

“I use advanced-level spells, but I prefer creating my own attack styles instead of strictly following what books say. Makes me less predictable.”

Cris was surprised. With a slightly arrogant tone, he replied:

“Fair enough… I don’t like following rules either. I guess rules are made by those afraid of winning.”

“Exactly. Also, I can cast spells without chanting.”

His eyes widened in shock.

“No chants? I’ve never heard of a mage doing that… not even in recorded history,” Cris said, visibly amazed.

“I figured it out on my own,” I said with a shrug. “It was hard, but when I focus enough, I can feel the magic flowing straight from me, no words needed. And I only started trying it yesterday.”

“That sounds… dangerous,” he said, half serious, half intrigued.

“It is. One wrong move and you could lose an arm,” I laughed, though it wasn’t entirely a joke.

Cris let out a short laugh, then looked at me intently.

“So, are you a genius or just insane?”
“A bit of both, I guess.”

We fell into silence, watching the sky through the branches of the great tree. The wind blew softly, and for a moment, everything felt… peaceful.

“You’re not like the others,” Cris said suddenly.
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s… interesting. I like you, Darius. It’s weird for me to say that so soon, but I mean it.”

“You’re not like the others either, Cris. Most people pretend to be invincible. You’re not afraid to admit fear or pressure.”

“It’s just… I have no one. At least, no one who doesn’t see me as a ‘divine weapon.’ I thought coming here would be an escape, but everyone expects me to be a hero. To win tournaments, defeat enemies… never lose.”

“Well, now you’ve found someone who expects nothing from you,” I said with a smile. “Just be yourself.”

Cris lowered his gaze, and for the first time, his expression truly softened.

“Thanks, Darius.”

The sky began to darken. Unfortunately, it looked like it was going to rain…