In the luxurious side of NSQC stood a mansion like no other — walls black as midnight, absorbing every trace of light. It didn't reflect the world around it; it erased it.
A grand archway led inside, where opulence met shadow. Polished marble floors, velvet-draped furniture, and crystal chandeliers filled the vast space with cold elegance. Dark-tinted windows kept the outside world at bay, while the air held the scent of old books, incense, and secrets.
It was a place of beauty and silence — not just a home, but a fortress of power and mystery.
In the dimly lit basement of the mansion, the training arena hummed with quiet stillness. Stone walls stretched high, cold and unyielding, their silence broken only by the soft rhythm of wood striking wood. The floor, smooth and worn from years of practice, echoed the light steps of a boy barely five.
Sunny stood at the center, framed by the soft glow of torchlight. His pale skin almost glowed against the darkness, his hair black as midnight, tousled from movement. His eyes—so dark they seemed bottomless—were fixed on the wooden dummy before him. With each swing of his small practice sword, he struck with careful precision, mimicking motions taught to him by his mother
Then, a soft sound—barely a coo—drifted through the air.
Sunny paused, turning toward the far end of the arena.
There, nestled on a thick blanket near the wall, sat his baby sister—Rain. Just one year old, she was tiny and bundled in soft fabric, her big, curious eyes watching him with a smile blooming on her face. Her little hands clapped, delighted by her brother's fierce display.
Sunny's eyes softened. The sword lowered.
He walked over, kneeling beside her, the cold of the floor forgotten in her warmth. Rain giggled and reached out, grasping his fingers with her own. Sunny leaned in, brushing her dark curls gently with one hand.
"You're watching, huh?" he said, his voice low but sweet. "Don't worry, Rain. I'll get strong… for you."
She babbled in reply, and Sunny chuckled—just a little, but it lit his whole face.
He tucked the blanket more securely around her shoulders before standing again. One last glance,one last smile, and then he turned back to the dummy. His sword rose. His stance steadied.
And in the flickering torchlight, he practiced—not just as a student of the blade, but as a brother protecting the one he loved most.
Sunny had always watched his mother with wide, awe-filled eyes as she trained—each swing of her sword graceful, precise, and powerful. As a young boy, he would sit quietly in the corner of the practice hall, mesmerized by how she moved like flowing water, sharp and elegant all at once. The rhythm of her strikes, the silence between each breath, the way she stood firm even when tired—it etched itself into his heart. That was when the seed was planted.
From that moment, Sunny didn't just want to learn swordsmanship—he needed to. Not just for the thrill of mastering the blade or the feeling of power in his grip, but for something deeper.
Now older, he moved with confidence and clarity. Every swing he made wasn't wild or impulsive—it was measured, deliberate. His body had memorized the weight of the blade, the feel of resistance when striking, the timing needed to defend and counter. This precision gave him joy, yes—but behind that joy was purpose.
Sunny trained not for tournaments or glory, but to protect. He remembered nights when his little sister, Rain, clung to him during storms. He remembered the silent tension in his father's shoulders during times of uncertainty. He remembered the stories his mother never told but which showed in her eyes—the dangers she had once faced.
Sunny's heart carried a quiet resolve: If danger ever comes, it will meet me first.
Swordsmanship wasn't just a skill to him—it was a promise. A promise to stand between his family and harm. A promise to uphold the strength his mother had once shown him. A promise to be the blade that shields, not just the one that strikes.
And every time he trained, he wasn't just chasing a dream. He was preparing for a day that may come—where love alone wouldn't be enough, but a sword held with love might be.
After an hour of relentless training, Sunny finally lowered his wooden sword. His arms ached, his legs trembled slightly, and his entire body glistened with sweat, the fabric of his shirt clinging to him. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, chest rising and falling in steady breaths. The rush of movement had quieted, leaving behind the comforting fatigue of effort well spent.
He walked over to the small counter nearby where a bottle of water and a sandwich waited. The water was cool, almost heavenly against his dry throat. He took small bites of the sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. He had always wanted to learn the divine art of cooking—just like his mother. The way she crafted meals was something close to magic. But every time he asked, she would chuckle and ruffle his hair, saying, "You're still too small, Sunny. Someday."
He didn't argue. He just waited—training not only with the sword but with patience too.
As he finished, his eyes wandered across the room to the little figure sitting on a soft mat—Rain. His baby sister, barely a year old, her chubby hands reaching for a toy, dark eyes following him with innocent curiosity. She had been watching him all along, like she always did.
Sunny smiled gently.
Leaving the counter, he walked to her and sat down beside her, his sweat-damp clothes sticking to the floor as he crossed his legs. Rain looked up at him, then let out a small laugh, reaching her tiny arms toward him. He leaned in, wiping his hands before gently booping her nose.
"You liked the sword moves, didn't you?" he whispered.
Rain babbled in reply, placing one small hand on his arm. Sunny held her hand, his smile softening.
He didn't need a reason anymore. Protecting her, being near her—it was all the reason in the world
The soft sound of controlled breathing and the rhythmic whispers of a blade slicing the air filled the space. Olivia moved like a shadow caught in dance—her every motion deliberate, elegant, and sharp. The sword in her hands shimmered faintly in the light, an extension of her will.
Near the far wall, tucked beside a soft blanket and a few scattered toys, Sunny slowly opened his eyes. He blinked, adjusting to the brightness and the strange quiet. He must have dozed off while sitting next to Rain. His little sister was still sound asleep, curled up beside him under a blanket someone had gently placed over them both.
He looked down and smiled. Mom… he thought.
Rising carefully so as not to disturb Rain, Sunny stretched his sore limbs, the stiffness from training earlier still lingering in his muscles. The faint ache reminded him of how hard he had pushed himself—and how peaceful he had felt falling asleep next to his sister.
His gaze drifted toward the center of the hall, where Olivia moved with unwavering grace. She was barefoot, hair tied back, her focus unshaken. There was a serenity to her, but also a strength that made Sunny's chest tighten with admiration.
He approached quietly, barefoot steps soft against the floor. He didn't want to interrupt—but his heart was full, and he wanted her to know he was there.
"Hi, Mom," he said softly.
Olivia paused mid-movement. She turned her head over her shoulder, eyes landing on him. A smile slowly blossomed on her face—not surprised, not startled—just warm. The kind of smile that made you feel seen without needing to say anything else.
"You're awake," she said gently, lowering her sword.
Sunny nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I fell asleep beside Rain."
She looked past him briefly, her eyes softening further. "I saw," she murmured. "You were both peaceful… like two quiet stars."
Sunny stepped closer, watching the sword in her hand.
"I want to be like you, Mom," he said, voice quiet but sure. "Strong… graceful… and able to protect the people I love."
Olivia studied him for a moment, then reached out and gently ran her hand through his hair. "You already are," she whispered. "You just don't know how much yet."
Sunny walked a little closer, still watching the sword in his mother's hand gleam faintly. The stillness between them was comfortable, a thread of quiet love tying them together. But curiosity tugged at his mind—memories of last night, when he had quietly listened from behind the hallway corner as his parents whispered about an "expedition."
"…So, Mother," he began, tilting his head. "How was your expedition in the Dream Realm?"
Olivia raised an eyebrow at the question, her lips curling into a small, amused smile. "You were eavesdropping again, weren't you?"
Sunny looked away, sheepish. "Just a little…"
She let out a soft laugh—light and clear like chimes in the wind. "It was alright. We didn't have any casualties this time."
There was a pause. Her tone was calm, but Sunny didn't miss the slight breath of relief that slipped into her words. Her eyes softened as she said it—not in pride, but in quiet gratitude. Too many expeditions had ended differently before.
Sunny's brows lifted. "What kind of nightmare creature did you kill?" His voice carried a spark of awe. "Was it something new?"
He couldn't help himself. His mother wasn't just his mother—she was transcendent. A rarity in the world. She stood in the same league as legends: Broken Sword, Ki Song, Anvil, and Asterion. Names spoken in hushed tones. People whose very presence bent the tide of battle. And yet she came back home, kissed his forehead, and tucked in Rain like any mother would.
Olivia looked at him for a moment, the fire in her soul dimming into something gentler. "It was a Weeping Thornfiend," she said finally, walking over to set her sword down on the nearby rack. "A Corrupted Terror… bound to a forest deep in the third layer. Its cries could drive people mad, and its thorns fed on despair."
Sunny's eyes widened. "Did it try to mess with your mind?"
Olivia gave a slow nod. "It did. Tried to pull regrets out of me. Memories." She looked at him, a shadow briefly passing behind her gaze—but then she smiled again, strong and clear. "But it was too slow. I made sure it didn't cry again."
Sunny stared, half in awe, half in silence. He couldn't fully imagine what that felt like—facing something born of nightmares and winning. But he wanted to. Someday.
"You're amazing…" he muttered under his breath.
Olivia ruffled his hair again, this time with a touch more tenderness. "You'll be even more," she said. "You already carry something stronger than any blade: a heart that wants to protect."
He looked up at her, the awe in his eyes giving way to something quieter—something more tender. He hesitated for a moment, then asked, "So… will you be going to the Shadow Clan headquarters? Or back into the Dream Realm in NSQC?"
He tried to keep his voice neutral, but there was a small shift in it—a flicker of emotion. He understood, as much as a boy his age could, that his mother couldn't always stay. She was needed elsewhere. Important things called her: creatures that threatened lives, missions that couldn't wait, people who relied on her strength. The mansion, as warm as it was, wasn't always her home—sometimes, it was just her resting place between wars.
Olivia paused, reading the unspoken meaning in her son's eyes. She walked toward him slowly, the space between them small but heavy with silence.
"I'll be heading to headquarters tomorrow," she said gently. "There are some things I need to take care of. Your father's been holding the fort for a while now, and I need to relieve him."
Sunny nodded slowly. He had grown used to it, but it never got easier. Abel—his father—usually stayed at the Shadow Clan's stronghold, keeping everything running smoothly behind the scenes. He wasn't as renowned as Olivia, but Sunny knew how respected he was. A man who didn't speak much, but when he did, everyone listened. He was the stillness in the storm. The one who kept balance while Olivia was out fighting the chaos.
"I'll be back before too long," she added, crouching down so she was at eye level. "I always come back, don't I?"
Sunny nodded again, this time with a faint smile. "Yeah… but it's just quieter when you're not here."
Olivia smiled softly, brushing a hand through his hair. "That's why I fight, Sunny. So that one day, this house—your world—can stay quiet forever."
The heaviness passed, and a hopeful glint returned to Sunny's eyes. "So, Mother… while you're staying here," he asked carefully, "will you take us out somewhere?"
Olivia smiled again, that familiar warmth rising in her expression. "Maybe not today, little light," she said gently, brushing a hand over his cheek. "But tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" he perked up.
She nodded, glancing toward the soft light spilling through the windows. "Tomorrow, you'll be meeting someone important."
Sunny tilted his head. "Who?"
Olivia turned back to him, a knowing gleam in her eyes. "Nephis," she said softly. "The daughter of Broken Sword… and Smile of Heaven."
Sunny's mouth parted slightly in surprise. He had heard the name before—whispers of her. A girl born from legends, like him. Someone who walked the edge between shadow and starlight.
"Really?" he asked, wide-eyed. "She's coming here?"
"No," Olivia said with a light chuckle, "you'll be going there. It's time you two met. There's a reason for it, though you may not understand it yet."
Sunny's heart beat faster, excitement and nerves tangled inside him. "Is she strong?"
Olivia looked at him, her expression calm but sure. "She is. But more than that, she's someone who understands what it means to carry a legacy… just like you."
Sunny stared for a moment, then slowly nodded.
Tomorrow felt like the beginning of something new. And he was ready.