He awoke when the sun rose, a habit developed over many years. The tide was a soothing wake-up call, but it was nothing in comparison to the light snores of the one next to him. His shining light, his most energetic star. The only one strong and brave enough to make him the best version of himself.

She wore a content smile while she slept, which he mirrored. He couldn't help but caress her hair, reflecting the lifetimes of memories that they shared. They had their fair share of arguments and adventures, but he wouldn't trade it for all the treasures in the world. Not when it came to her, not when it came to his Keyleth.

Rising out of bed, the temptation to sleep in nagged at him as it did every day. And every day, he decided that his rituals were more important. Keyleth and the children would be waiting for him. He did not doubt that whatsoever.

Silencing those thoughts without hesitation, he prepared for the day. A routine was a daily task. It built discipline, self-restraint, focus, perseverance, and, most importantly, a sense of responsibility. Even when he didn't want to do it, he especially had to complete his routine.

How could he teach these things to his children if he didn't do them himself?

The first thing he did was to check up on his son and daughter, taking their light breathing as a sign they were still asleep. That was good. He made his way through the rest of his home, a beautiful handcrafted house that sat on the beach, the tide greeting his eyes every day for the last century.

He reached a room with a wooden bathtub. He filled it with water, taking advantage of the indoor plumbing he had set up with the help of close friends nearly a lifetime ago. He dipped his finger in the water, checking the temperature and coming away dissatisfied.

He hovered a hand over the water, rune circles appearing around his arm. "[Frostbite]."

The surface instantly froze over, and he smashed it with his fist to create a simple ice bath. He undressed and lowered himself in, unfazed by the unnaturally freezing conditions he created.

After about sixty minutes of this, he got out and redressed, taking a look at himself in the mirror. What stared back was a, in his opinion, ruggedly handsome man no older than thirty. He had high cheekbones, a straight nose like a hawk, and stormy gray eyes to match. His body was lean but powerful, a result of his background and decades of honing it to perfection.

As of lately, he was sporting a thick, brown beard. His hair was cut so short that it resembled an Old-World buzzcut. He splashed his face with cold water. A shave was in due order, but not yet.

For now, he wanted to do something else, before his family awoke. Perhaps it was time for a little snack before they had breakfast and began their training for the day.

A few minutes later…

He was out on the beach, enjoying the way the sand molded around his toes and the waves lapping at his ankles. This was a luxury not even the wealthiest businessmen back home would be able to afford. His family and he had the entire island all to themselves. Those execs would be frothing at the mouths with jealousy.

The sun shone generously on his back, its golden rays peeking out over the equator of the world. It lit the way towards his destination, a reward of fresh tropical fruit to begin his day. Two baskets were in his hands, ready to be filled bountifully.

There were days he didn't want to perform this routine of his since while he enjoyed all the little pleasures of a beachside manor, the siren's call of a soft bed with a beautiful wife was louder than the waves. He had to temper his mind and remain callous to become the best version of himself.

Before long, he came across a leafy plant that grew pineapples. In all his years in the New World, these pineapples were a rarity. Right above it was a tree that grew bright-red tropical fruit, not-unlike Passion Fruit.

He got right to picking his preferred number of fruits. The island's ambiance provided a comforting backdrop to the monotonous work, calming him. His wife did not care for pineapples but his children loved them. They were allowed to have one a day after he made sure the plants weren't damaged from his foraging.

SNAP!

His head shot up to the edge of the forest line, where sand gave way to lush undergrowth. A troop of lightning monkeys sneered at him, hooting at the abundance of fruit he was taking. He softly smiled at them, even as forks of electricity arced across their golden fur and fried the vegetation.

They proved annoying at first, at least until he put a few down to assert his dominance among them. Now they just watched him carefully every morning, to see if he would drop any fruit. It did not matter whether they lived or died, but he would defend himself if need be, should a young troop leader decide to steal his harvest.

Another snap behind him set off his internal alarm since the new step was heavier than before. He side-stepped without looking back, seeing a shadow pass over him with a howl. A beast landed in front of him, confused that he had sensed its intentions so easily.

It seems I'm not the only one trying to get some breakfast.

The creature in question resembled a tropical panther, snarling. He noted that its skin hung loosely off its bones, the result of starvation. He raised an eyebrow and then delivered a swift kick faster than the panther could follow. Bones emulsified where his foot connected, sending the panther flying into the tree where he'd been picking fruit before.

Even before it hit the tree, it was already dead. All of its organs would've exploded from the sheer force he was capable of. He set his baskets down and went up to the animal, checking it to see if he could find the reason for its starvation.

This one has teats. Even though the rest of her is skinny, these appear swollen like she had cubs recently. This must have been her first hunt since they were born. Such is the way of this world.

It was not usual for animals to wander close to the manor like this panther had, which showcased how truly desperate it was. His enchantments on the land near his home served as a good deterrent for most animals. He knew he didn't have to kill the beast, but he couldn't risk his family like that. Not when this one proved that it would willingly ignore the enchantments to get a meal.

The moment it attacked a decision was made. Never in a million years would he be harmed by such a low-level creature, but his children, on the other hand…

He picked up his baskets of fruit and made his way back home. Along the way, he picked a few more fruits that caught his eye. If that panther and her cubs had to die to secure the safety of his family, then so be it. He just would make sure his children didn't come this way for a few days, at the very least.

He returned home from his trip, opening the door and hearing the sounds of breakfast being made. His sensitive ears picked up on light humming from the kitchen. He couldn't help but smile when he heard that.

Making his way to the kitchen, he saw the picturesque view of his wife, awake and cooking something on a magic-powered stove. Golden rays of sunshine peeking through the window complemented her natural golden hair. She was still dressed in a gray nightgown, her motherly, beautiful face completely focused on the task in front of her. She silently yawned but gave no indication she heard him come in.

Perfect.

Setting the baskets of fruit down, he snuck up behind her. His arms snaked around her waist, holding her tenderly while he buried his face in her hair. He breathed lightly on her pointed ears, making her giggle from the tickling sensation.

His heart skipped a beat when she turned to face him, giving him a teasing smile. "Well good morning to you, Arthur. I see you're up early as usual. How many times have I told you not to tickle my ears like that?"

He grinned impishly at her. "Sorry, but knowing elven ears are so sensitive makes you a prime target. It's not my fault you're beautiful like you are in the morning, not that I'm complaining, of course."

Sounding as unapologetic as he was, he did it again, eliciting another string of laughter. "That doesn't make a lick of sense! I'll show you sensitive!"

She play-struggled against his grip, not trying very hard to break away. He chuckled softly, holding her tighter. With Keyleth, he didn't have to worry as much with his unnatural strength. She'd proven more times than he could count that she could handle him.

It was how they managed to have two children, after all.

"Do you want some tea?" She asked, already knowing his answer before he said anything. She knew him better than he did himself sometimes. How had he gotten so lucky with such a woman?

"Make enough for both of us. I'm sure the kids aren't long from the bed, so we should enjoy a cup or two before they drain the entire kettle."

Keyleth hummed in amused agreement, doing as she asked. He gave her a light kiss before he let go, sitting down at the table to wait.

At that time, he reflected on his home and the semi-futuristic marvels by the standards of the New World. It took some time to collect the necessary architects and magicians to build his home the way he and Keyleth envisioned, but it was worth it to have the amenities it offered.

His time as a member of the Argland Council State, even after his banishment, did lend him a few privileges. If anything, his "banishment" was more of a forced retirement because of the hostile behaviors of some of the older council members.

Was it necessary to build a house out on a deserted island? Not really. In truth, he didn't even need a house, since he had magic items that could easily handle his necessities; holdovers from his days in Yggdrasil. However, to go without eating, drinking, and sleeping would be too mentally exhausting to deal with.

The social prestige he once held was a shackle as well. The dragon lords wouldn't even let him so much as take a walk without accusing him of plotting to slay the last of their kind. He couldn't go a day without being bothered by a citizen of the advanced civilization asking for their version of an autograph or spitting on his shoes.

It was pointless, and he'd be damned if his children had to suffer through the same things he did. His mother and father… If only they could see him now.

Vividly, he recalled a memory of when he was a boy himself, no more than eleven years old. In the Old World, his family was not so worse off that they couldn't afford to send him to school. His father, sadly, had to pull double shifts just to get the money needed. High school was a distant dream in those days, and the university was next to impossible to envision.

He was a diligent student back then, able to pull A's and B's with relative ease. He was a model student even to his peers, always putting forth extra effort in the subjects he had a talent for. None of that wouldn't have been possible if not for the food he was able to eat.

He'd learned the importance of fiscal responsibility and having a good meal. The cafeterias where his father worked had passable food. It was not excellent like what the truly rich could get their hands on from the arcologies and other biodomes, but it sufficed.

His mother, in particular, always made sure to take care of him. There was never a day he starved under her care. There was one situation in particular…

"Mom, I'm hungry," he groaned after leaving his room. His clothes hung somewhat loosely on his frame, and there were bags under his eyes.

His mother, a woman with long brown hair like his own, responded. "You ate a few hours ago, didn't you? Surely that should have been enough for the day."

When she saw his face, she relented. She sat down in a nearby chair and clasped her hands. She smiled brightly at him and pointed with two fingers in a playful gesture.

"What do you want to eat?"

This excited him, a surge of energy making him bounce on his heels right to left. "Pancakes! Can we get some pancakes, please? It's been so long."

"Pancakes? Let me see if we have any…" she said, going to the kitchen and opening up the cupboards. She also checked the fridge, perhaps hoping to find leftovers from a while ago. She ended up giving him a pained smile after a bit of searching.

"I'm sorry honey, but it doesn't seem like we have any pancakes. I could make you a sandwich instead if you'd like?"

Her response was despondent, filled with shame at saying those words. There was no reason to, of course, but the feeling was there all the same. He tried not to let his disappointment show, but being a young boy, he was not entirely successful.

"No, it's okay Mom. I'll just go to bed."

The look on his mother's face was heartbroken. He was such a good, kind boy. He never complained. He was mature for his age compared to other boys. He was dutiful in his work and never slacked off. To his mother, his eyes reminded her of his father.

Even with the combined salary of two working-class people, inflation ran rampant. Vacations were a rarity in the past, and nowadays they barely make ends meet. His mother was a teacher, and his father was an engineer.

Electricity, rent, water, food… everything in their lives had increased in cost ten-fold over the last few years. The world around them was crumbling, mega-corporations taking over the role of governments, state officials being assassinated in broad daylight, and military might bloating to obscene levels in the looming shadow of war.

The times were bad, and they would only get worse. He didn't know that at the time, since he was still just a boy. All he could ever do was study and perhaps play chess. Sports were a rich family's pastime, and friends were a similar luxury.

None of them were to blame, and yet his mother couldn't help but to feel like she failed, all because of some pancakes. The fiery determination in her eyes was a sight he would never forget.

"Arthur."

Her voice stopped him in his tracks. He hadn't even closed the door when she called out to him. "Yes, Mom?"

"Go grab your coat, gloves, shoes, and gas mask. We're going outside for a little bit."

Confused, he asked, "Why?"

"To get you some pancakes, my sweet boy. We're gonna bring them to your dad's workplace and have a nice family dinner," she promised him, beaming radiantly.

He nearly tackled her in response and then did as he was tasked. In no time, they were leaving the apartment. The nightlife was sparse there, and crime rates were low for the area.

A curfew hadn't been implemented, but there were talks of one. The streets of Budapest were generally safe only because the Army of the EU stationed vast amounts of soldiers in their city. They helped to dispense the necessary vaccines to stem the vicious viruses that plagued the less fortunate areas.

They reached one of the last few restaurants that catered to the lower and middle classes, one that was open twenty-four hours. They sold a variety of foods, but there was only one that the duo wanted that night.

They bought four pancakes filled with peanut butter. This would've been an impossible commodity otherwise, but peanuts were easily grown, even outside the arcologies. The EU took great efforts on their part to help restore the planet, utilizing items like the biodegradable bags their pancakes were stored in.

Pollution was cut down significantly, due in large part to limiting the usage of personal vehicles and heavily fining factories and other pollutant producers for polluting above their designated parameters. Acid rains were slowing down, but gas masks were still recommended for those traveling outside their homes.

After another fifteen-minute walk and a checkpoint pass with the military police, they finally made it to the building where his father worked: the Citizens United Central Office. It was a ten-story bureaucratic machine that handled everything from birth certificates, civil planning, employment, and, most importantly, education. It even hosted an internal hospital and enclosed garden for the workers inside.

Their destination was the fourth floor. Arthur's father was a civil engineer, working on the sewage system, electricity, parks, and roads of Budapest. They reached the area without incident, standing before glass double doors.

Before they could pass the door, Arthur's mother whispered one final thing to him. "You know what to do, right? Stay calm, and be quiet."

"Okay." The boy replied.

Walking in, it felt like an invisible threshold had been passed. The glass doors slammed shut behind him, booming to Arthur's sensitive ears. This worsened when several other glass panes closed all around him, effectively locking the pair inside a transparent prison.

The roof above their heads shifted, allowing a metallic entity to slither its way down to them. It was pure white, mobile like a serpent, with a singular black and red eye made of glass. That served as its source of light, sound, and communication.

His father had told Arthur about it once. He recalled it being called Avon Neumann, the autonomous Intelligence that helped manage the Citizens United Central Office.

"Please remove all masks, hoods, and hats," the machine whirred, making a series of clicking noises that were far too animalistic to be entirely machine. They complied without hesitation.

"Scanning, please wait."

A bright, droning light covered them head to toe, the blasted machine of the Old World gazing into their very souls and taking out every last bit of information stored within the New Net. It was violating in a way, stripping them naked and reading out their sins.

"Citizen: Elizabeth Kalman. Date of Birth: May fifteenth, twenty seventy-nine. Citizen: Arthur Kalman, son of Elizabeth Kalman. Date of Birth: December twenty-first, twenty-one zero eight. Social credit score: commendable. Query: Purpose for coming to Citizens United Central Office?"

His mother held up the bag of pancakes for the machine to see. It scanned the contents briefly while she spoke. "We wanted to have some dinner with my husband who works here. We thought it might do him some good to have a proper family dinner with us."

The machine's eye flashed for a few seconds, before turning green. The glass walls slid back up into the ceiling, and his mother breathed a subtle sigh of relief.

"Acceptable. Citizen Roman Kalman shall be found on the fourth floor in his office, cubicle twenty-one B. The elevator is undergoing maintenance. Use the stairs provided down the hall to your left."

The machine slithered back into its domain, and Arthur and his mother entered the building properly. Even so late at night, the workers ran about as if it were the early morning. Soon enough, they reached his father's cubicle, surprising the overworked man inside.

His father had striking blue eyes and receding blond hair, a casualty of the stress of his job. He was hunched over his desk, clutching his forehead when they burst inside. The moment his father saw them, the stress and frown melted from his frame.

He gathered them into a tight hug, eliciting glares of envy from his coworkers when Arthur's mother pulled out the pancakes from the bag. They spoke of the future and what it might hold, despite the instability of their world.

It was the happiest moment in his childhood. It arrived at a perfect time, for only a few days later did World War III start in earnest. It was a conflict that devastated not only the entirety of Europe but spread like cancer across the planet. Many children like Arthur were left as orphans or with horribly depressed parents. Their homes were destroyed, their neighborhoods eradicated, displacing millions of wayward stragglers.

With the memory drawing to a close, Arthur vowed that his family would always have a mother and a father, and a home. He was just a kid when he was robbed of these things, and he refused to let the same happen to his children. His wife, likewise, lost her family at a young age. Tragedy, it seemed, was steeped deep into their backgrounds.

The cycle would not repeat itself.

"Arthur," the voice of his wife snapped him back to reality. He muttered back half-heartedly, and his wife's piercing blue eyes did little to affect him. He didn't respond, for a part of him was still lost in thought.

Keyleth huffed. "Don't you 'mmm' me. Use your words and tell me what happened. You spaced out for a moment there."

"Ah… I just got lost in some old memories. Think nothing of it."

"What kind of memories?"

He remained silent. It was his usual response when it came to matters like these. The gentle touch of his wife's hand on his steadied him, and she gazed at him softly.

"Do you… want to talk about it?" She asked him.

He exhaled. "Not particularly, no."

"I see…"

They stayed there, content to be in each other's presence. Each acted as an anchor for the other, reminding them of what they endured and how much they sacrificed to have quiet moments like this. She knew it was next to impossible to get him to open up entirely when he got like this, so she remained there, a lighthouse for his tumultuous sea.

Finally, he said, "Well, there are a few things. We're almost out of eggs and meat. I'll port to the city and grab some later."

The golden-haired woman frowned at him before gesturing for him to take a seat. She had poured a cup of tea for the both of them while he had been reliving childhood memories. He sat down and sipped it. Hibiscus tea. One of his favorites. She knew him so well. But for some reason, she was still frowning at him.

"Keyleth… what's the matter?" He asked her.

"Don't you think you're being too strict on the kids?" She replied after a bit.

He raised an eyebrow. "In what manner?"

"Well, I know you know what you're doing, and you mean well, but I'm thinking that we may be overdoing it. They have stretches in the morning, then runs, then swimming, then schoolwork, then gym, a bit of rest, then more schoolwork, and then combat training. From sunup to sundown it's all work, and it leaves them exhausted. It's a bit excessive, don't you think?"

He rested a hand on his chin in contemplation. "Hmmm. They complained to you, didn't they? I suppose it's only fair. And they are kids, so they don't truly understand why I'm doing these things. Not yet anyway."

Arthur scratched his beard and then looked up from his cup of tea towards Keyleth, whose eyes were still a bit too harsh for his liking.

"But… you're right. They do need a rest day now and then."

Keyleth's expression let up, a touch of pride filling her voice. "Exactly. They're not machines. Children need to be able to play, enjoy life, and make friends with others their age. I know this island doesn't… exactly help with the last point, but you can ramp up the training when they're older. They're already incredibly strong for their age."

"I just want what's best for them, you know. It's easier to build strong children than to fix broken adults. If it makes you feel better, I'll cut out gym time today and we can take a trip to the city in the afternoon, and buy some trinkets. Perhaps there'll be a play showing today."

"That sounds lovely. I'll speak with my friends at the port too, see if I can't pick up some new book titles for the kids from the library."

Having decided upon this course of action, Arthur and his beloved wife sat drinking tea, and the earlier tension vanished. He glanced at an analog clock on the wall, noting that it was six in the morning now. He got up from his chair a few minutes later.

"I'm gonna go wake up the kids. We'll get an earlier start so they can enjoy the rest of the day."

Keyleth smiled. "Just a few minutes. We'll make breakfast in the meantime."

They worked as a team, preparing various fruits and leftover cuts of meat for their early meal. The table was set up quickly by Arthur, since while he knew how to cook well, his son and daughter preferred their mother's cooking a bit more.

Arthur made sure to always prepare the proper quantities for each of them based on their dietary needs, which meant that they all had slightly different-sized plates and bowls for their food. He wasn't an old-world fitness guru, but he knew what he was doing.

Keyleth kissed the side of his head when she passed by him and finished cooking. "I'll go get the kids. You start serving, big man."

He couldn't help but grin just a bit wider at the affection, doing as his wife asked. A few minutes later, the soft sound of feet on wood skipping and hopping filled his ears. Arthur sat at the table, not moving a muscle. Let's see how well the little ones doid trying to sneak up on him…

A pair of blue eyes that were hidden by brown-blonde hair peeked around a corner. The owner thought they were being clever, hush-hush as they tip-toed towards their prey, stalking him like the panthers that prowled his island home.

Slowly. Slowly.

His prey turned his head. He was forced back behind the corner. They had nearly been spotted! An almost failure! This tiny hunter could not fail so quickly!

The key to a successful hunt was persistence. Failure was a lesson to be cherished, to be able to improve and succeed the next time. It shouldn't be despised as some would do. Instead, as many attempts as needed should be done to obtain that revered victory.

Eventually, it happens! Therefore… have another go!

The tiny hunter peeked over the corner, ready to put his lessons to good use. However, his prey was nowhere to be found. Confusion was replaced by spontaneous clarity. He'd been in a similar situation before. Back then, what happened next was-

Yes!

He whirled to face behind him within a fraction of a second, more quickly than any other kid his age. He should be since he received the very best training! Right as he finished facing the other way, though…

Boop.

A finger tapped his nose, signaling defeat. He deflated with disappointment, unable to take his prey by surprise. He'd succeed eventually, he'd just need to keep trying. Until then, he was content to lose as many times as needed.

"Papa!" He called out, trying to tackle him in a bear hug and instead being scooped up alongside his sister, who he realized had been extremely quiet the entire time. No wonder. She was in Papa's arms the whole time!

His sister was grabbing parts of Papa's beard. "You're so hairy."

Papa tickled her instead of saying anything, and the room filled with her giggles while he laughed alongside her. Papa has the serious smile he always used when he couldn't help but be happy when serious!

He saw Papa fake frown though, playing hurt. "It's not nice to start the day so rude, you'll hurt my feelings."

"But it is hairy! It's so itchy. You should shave it!"

"I had planned on it, but aren't you forgetting something?" Papa chuckled.

He saw his sister's face scrunch up. "I am?"

She raised her hand to her chin like Papa usually did. He could practically see the lightbulb light up above her head in realization.

"Good morning!" She almost shouted.

Papa nodded in satisfaction. "There we go. Good morning, sunshine. What about you brother? Have to be a good influence for your sister."

"Good morning Papa!" He said happily. He snuggled in close, giggling when his father tickled him too. Papa could hold them all day, he was so strong. He remembered once that sister had ridden on Papa's back all day, like a knight on a dragon. They had played knight and dragon the whole time, and Papa was a very reliable mount.

"Did you both brush your teeth?" their protector asked, like he did every morning. They nodded dutifully and smiled to show they had.

"Did you wash your hands?"

Again, they nodded and held up their palms, showing how shiny they were.

"I'm hungry, can we go eat now?" His sister asked, and his tummy rumbled when he started thinking about breakfast. Papa put them down, patting them on their backs.

"Your mother has already made breakfast. Go ahead and sit down, but wait for her before we eat."

"Okay!" They said simultaneously, rushing to the table and climbing up on their chairs.

Mama eventually came into the room with Papa, since he remembered Mama went to use the restroom after waking them up. Papa always said he looked more like Mama, which made sense since his sister looked more like Papa.

Mama and Papa sat down, but now Papa frowned at him, reaching over and brushing his hair. "Seems like you need a haircut, Damian. I don't think your mother can just comb it over anymore."

Mama laughed. "He should be able to decide when he needs to cut his hair. He's a big boy now, after all."

Damian's hair was ruffled while Papa grunted, playfully annoying him until he pushed his hands away. "He'll need to eat some more before he's big."

He and Papa always talked like that. It was just their usual way of having fun. He knew he didn't mean anything by saying he wasn't big enough yet.

"I like having long hair," he told his parents. "I want to look like the heroes with long hair from the bedtime stories you read to me and my sister!"

"It'll start bothering you soon if you don't take care of it. Besides, there's a fine line between long and this messy jungle of yours on your head. You might have a bird build a nest there soon if you're not careful."

Damian pouted. "You let my sister have long hair."

"She's a girl, and girls have softer hair than boys. It's easier to maintain, you have curlier hair and need to take care of it more often. You do not. You look like a tornado spat you out when you start sweating."

"He looks like a lightning monkey!" Damian's sister blurted unhelpfully. He glared at her.

"No, I don't Diana! Shut up!" He shouted back. He realized what he did when his father raised an eyebrow at him. He bent his head in shame.

He needed to have better self-control like Papa taught him. He raised his head and room a deep breath like he learned to, so he could speak better and think more clearly.

"Mama has long hair, and it doesn't bother her."

"She does, and why do you think that is?"

"Uh… she doesn't run as often as us?"

An incredibly terrifying pressure compacted down on his head, almost making him collapse. Damian realized his mistake, and he dared not look at her and see the evil silhouette Mama was giving off.

"She runs and exercises just as much-no, twice as much as us!"

Papa gave him an amused look. "Alright, so why is her hair tidy and yours not?"

He searched for an answer, but he drew a blank from his limited store of knowledge. Damian eventually shook his head. "I don't know."

"She ties her hair in a ponytail when she does work, and then she combs and braids it. You just let it flail around while you're often half-blind like an unsheared sheep. It's not a good look." Papa said.

The boy grumbled, understanding where he was coming from. His hair got ruffled again, and he squealed with a bit of laughter.

"Cheer up. There's no gym today, so you can rest instead. We're going to the port this afternoon and will spend the whole day there. Doesn't that sound exciting?"

Instantly, Damian and Diana gasped. Going to port was always an adventure, and they would be going for the whole day too! Maybe, if he was lucky, he would get to see the one he met last time they were there…

"Really?!"

"Yes. And you'll get a haircut when we head there." Papa smiled from ear to ear.

"Oh…" Damian's excitement deflated. This did not go unnoticed, and after a few seconds, the boy's father spoke.

"What's the matter? Tell me the truth. We both know your hair is way too long, so there must be a reason you've been avoiding the barber."

Realizing he was getting backed into a corner, it would be better if Damian just explained his other reason for not wanting to cut his hair.

"It's just…" The boy suddenly found his nails as a very promising source of food, before he wised up and stopped biting them.

"It's just… just what?" Papa pressed.

"Well, there's this girl. And Damian cracked.

"And?"

"She said she liked my hair."

"Aaaaah," Papa said as he nodded exaggeratedly before he turned towards Mama and asked her a question. "Did you know about this?"

She smirked, which even Damian understood was all the answer needed.

"I think I get it." He said, which didn't surprise Damian. His Papa was always really insightful and understood things super easily. Still, he couldn't help but ask anyways.

"You do?"

"Yes. You're scared that if you cut your hair, this girl won't like you, and you like her."

"...yes."

The older man hummed in thought, getting that look that made him seem very wise, which he was. "Well, there's an easy way to solve this problem."

"There is?" His hopes rose, wanting to hear what he had to say.

"I just need to ask you two questions."

"Okay."

"Would you say your father is a good-looking man?"

"Yep." The boy answered swiftly. That was an easy question. Mama said as much all the time, and she only ever spoke the truth.

"And would you say your mother is a good-looking woman?"

"Yes." And he answered again even more swiftly. Papa always talked about how beautiful she was, and he too always spoke the truth. Though, where was he going with this?

"Therefore, doesn't that make you good-looking as well? Especially since you look a lot like your mother."

"I guess."

"So, what does it matter if your hair is long, medium length, or short? You'll still look good, am I right or am I wrong?"

"I guess you're right."

"Then it's settled. You're getting the haircut. I can't have you making stupid mistakes while training. And besides, you don't know if she won't like you even more with short hair."

"I guess that's true."

"And if she doesn't like you, then it's her loss. Remember, you're our boy, and any girl in the world would be lucky to have you." Mama said as she reached over and held Damian's hand. "Now how about we get to work on breakfast, hmm?"

Smiling brightly, they all began to dig in. However, Papa did look up from his once before he finished. "By the way, how old is this girl that you like? About your age?"

"She's a year older than Damian. She's just the cutest little thing, and her parents are good people as well, raising a proper lady."

Papa asked nothing else, and they finished their meal in peace.

After breakfast, his family did their usual morning stretches in a nearby building that Arthur had built as the family gym. In there, he tried to recreate all the amenities he recalled being present in Old World gyms, of which there was an extensive amount of machines.

There were also smaller aides, like ropes, mats, and free weights for when the machines weren't needed, plus other amenities like a sauna and swimming pool. Being a player did have its perks.

The morning stretches came and went, and were completed by all four. It was nothing too exhausting, but health was important to everyone, no matter if they pursued a martial, magical, or civilian path in life.

They then ran around the circumference of the island, but not fully due to a sharp cliffside that barred their path. This was where they usually stopped, though tiny Diana ended up becoming too tired and asked for a piggyback ride from Keyleth on the way back.

By the time they returned home from their run and morning stretches, it was only half past seven in the morning.

Keyleth ended up going back inside to brush her hair and clean herself of the light sweat she built from the run, while his son and daughter went to the beach to play in the water and collect whatever new shiny stones washed up from the tide. The tide stabilized during their run, so Arthur had no worries about their safety for the moment.

In a couple of hours, his wife would start schooling their children. They'd spend the rest of the day working on academics until the mid-afternoon, having a snack, and then playing some more until dinner time.

Arthur decided to rest up a bit, even though he wasn't really tired. He went into the library within the manor and retrieved a book at random. He lay down on a hammock set up on some trees near the beach, so he could keep an eye on his children.

It was a peaceful morning, and hearing his son and daughter play on the beach while the sun steadily rose was a sight that countless others would have killed for back in twenty-one thirty-eight. He knew once upon a time that this was commonplace.

None of what he had now was an impossibility further back in time. The Old World was a desiccated husk, devoid of any hope for a future for his generation. He heard rumors that there were programs in place to try and revitalize the planet back when he was just a player.

Unfortunately, none of them would come to fruition until Damian or Diana would be adults, had they been born in that hellscape. He would be either dead or old before he saw the skies completely blue again. This was a far better alternative.

Hearing the sound of feet pounding sand, he noticed that his daughter Diana was running towards him. He sat up in time for her to bowl right into his legs, burying her face with a whimper. His hands immediately rushed to embrace her and offer comfort, recognizing that whimper as one of fear.

She looked up at him with scared eyes. "Papa! There's a strange man on the beach, he just showed up and sat down right in front of me and Damian! I don't know who he is, can you talk to him?"

Arthur spied her trail of footsteps and followed it until he saw a new figure on the beach where his children had been playing. Damian, the brave boy that he was, stared down the figure, who obviously couldn't care less about him, based on the fact he was lounging on, of all things, a pool chair.

A boyishly handsome young man with flowing golden-white hair and perfect skin sat in that chair. His clothing was rather modern, consisting of a straw hat, a purple Hawaiian-style shirt decorated with flowers, khaki shorts, and sandals. In his hands was a coconut with a straw inserted into it, which he drank.

It looked like a scene straight from the Old World, so absurd and completely out of place. The gall of a man to invade the private property of someone like Arthur Kalman ensured that their death warrant was signed, especially when they appear out of nowhere and terrify his children.

It was a good thing that the man in that chair was a known associate of Arthur's, from a life long since gone by. Otherwise, the situation would be… dire.

Breath in. Breath out.

A vein popped on his forehead. He stood up from the hammock and called out to his son. "Damian! Get back here and get into the house, now! I'll handle this!"

Thankfully, his son obeyed without question, though he did continuously look back and glare the whole way. Damian grabbed Diana's hand and they both ran inside. Leaving just Arthur and his "guest" outside.

He began to approach the pool chair, his guard raised and his hand at the ready to pull out a weapon from his inventory if need be. A sense of fury kept building as he got closer, nearly at its zenith when he stood in front of the intruder.

The "man" waved at him nonchalantly. "Yoooo, Arthur my man! What's up? Hey, do you mind moving a bit? You're blocking my shade."

Arthur didn't respond but merely stared with smoldering intensity. His knuckles cracked just from how hard his hands were clenching. His intruder held eye contact, unfazed by his anger. The boyish man did decide to take a drink from his coconut, which ended their contest.

"Arthur, what's with the cold response? Aren't you excited to see your old buddy?" The long-haired man said cheerfully as he continued to sip his coconut drink.

"Umbarth," Arthur said coldly.

"That's me!" The young man replied with vigor.

"Umbarth Kaldarran."

"I mostly go by Bart now, but yes, that's me!" He replied, showing no sign that he had taken offense at Arthur's curt behavior. The player narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you here, Brightness Dragon Lord?" He said with an undertone of violence. He decided to use Umbarth's proper title to show his disdain for his presence.

"No need to use titles with me. As I said, just call me Bart!" The Brightness Dragon Lord drawled, either not noticing or blatantly ignoring the icy-cold words.

"Then explain to me why you're here, Bart?"

Umbarth shrugged casually. "Oh, just here to catch up with an old friend. It's been a while since we last saw each other." He fiddled with a strand of his golden-white hair.

"Do not lie to me," Arthur grumbled. His patience was wearing thin, and his fingers twitched at the thought of pulling out his weaponry to deal with this nuisance.

"I'm not! We do have a lot to talk about, and I haven't seen you since you left the Council. You could've tried leaving on better terms, instead of the way that they ended instead," Umbarth said more seriously.

"Hmph." Arthur snorted. "One must accept the things they cannot change. They would not listen to reason. And do not forget, the decision you and the rest of the Dragon Lords made was supposed to be forever. Forever. For a bunch of overgrown lizards with delusions of grandeur that happened to have more arrogance than intellect, I thought they knew what that word meant. Forever. Means. Forever." He hammered those words home slowly.

"There was no point in me remaining publicly active," he added on quickly, making sure to drive in his point.

"What can I say? They got scared." Umbarth shrugged before taking another sip of his drink. "You did sort of kill three True Dragon Lords in two years. One of them was a Dragon Lord of the First Age, from before Terminus."

"I will not apologize. They knew what they were doing and had it coming," Arthur said without hesitation.

Umbarth finished sipping his drink, before throwing the coconut into the sea. It made a massive splash once it impacted the water, unsettling the tide. Despite his appearance, he was one of the strongest beings in the world. And one of the most intelligent.

Afterward, he stood up from his chair and raised both hands as if to gesture to Arthur that he didn't make an accusation. "Not asking you to! Those bastards deserved it, I agree. The shit they got up to. Truly, it was inexcusable," He shook his head in visible disgust before continuing.

"If you ask me, I'm glad someone made them pay for their crimes." He raised a finger. "Buuuuuuuuuut! You know how it is with them. They have a very tribalistic mindset."

Umbarth put his thumb in his mouth and blew some air, huffing up his chest. It did become bigger for a bit. A benefit of Wild Magic. He could modify his body for a bit but did not gain any benefit like the Leviathan Lords of the sea would. To change one's body on a fundamental level and make the effects permanent was the domain of Primordial Shaping Magic, a counterpart to Wild Magic.

This time, when Umbarth spoke, it was in a much deeper voice and he waggled his finger around while marching like a soldier.

"IT'S US AGAINST THEM! THE IMMIGRANTS ARE TAKING OUR JOBS AND OUR WOMEN! AND WE NEED TO STOP THEM. FURTHERMORE, WE MUST SUBJUGATE THE LESSER RACES AND SECURE A FUTURE FOR OUR GREAT PEOPLE AND RESTORE THE GLORY DAYS WHEN MY GRANDPA WAS JUST A HATCHLING AND BLAH BLAH BLAH."

His chest then deflated and Umbarth continued. "They thought you were just like the Greed Kings! Come from another world to wipe them all out! They've calmed down by now, mostly. They wondered where you were since you disappeared. They thought you were dead! But I knew better! You're a tough bastard to kill."

He punched Arthur's chest mockingly, but that didn't move him and only served to hurt his hand a bit. He shook it for a bit before Arthur replied. "I am aware."

"If they knew you had settled down, they'd be relaxed."

"I trust you know what would happen if my family were to be threatened," Arthur stated. It was a threat to anyone with a brain.

"Don't worry about it, I'm not gonna tell anyone! I'm not suicidal. Though I may have to tell them you're alive just so we can rescind the edict." He scratched his hair and started walking closer to the water. Arthur followed him until their feet were buried by the sand in the tide.

"You know the edict cannot stop me, correct? I merely chose to respect it because I do not want a war." Arthur spoke after a moment's silence.

"Neither do they. Or I? We? Irrelevant. Point is, war isn't in the plan for the future. Our numbers are dropping, man. We need fresh blood. A war right now would be very stupid."

"Yes… I am aware of how you are working to 'increase' your numbers. How is that endeavor going for you?" Arthur said with some minor disgust.

"Honestly… not that good. It's just my great-granddaughter that has proven to be good at anything, and she's far more human than dragon. The rest are… yeah." For the first time, Umbarth's mood visibly dropped. The mask of the always cheery and charismatic young man had slipped for just a second, and the depressed old dragon had revealed himself.

The mask restored itself without delay, and then Umbarth was acting as the character he chose again. Arthur sneered, recalling who the dragon lord was referring to. Typical of a dragon to worry about his numbers when the other lord species were failing. Both the Leviathan and Titan Lords were faring far worse than even the dragons on a bad day.

"Maybe they wouldn't be failures if you took the role of a father instead of pumping and dumping. What a disgusting habit. I should have beaten it out of you when I first met you." Arthur did not relent with his scathing words, as true as they were.

"Maybe you should have… Point is, you and I never had any conflict, right? And besides, I got along with you better than I ever got along with those senile old stains." Umbarth said, and surprisingly, he put a hand on Arthur's shoulder. Compared to the size of the shoulder, the hand was tiny. But Arthur did not flinch. Nor did he do anything. He merely stood there, lost in thought, before replying a few seconds later.

"That is… true. I enjoyed our conversations."

"Me too. I'm enjoying the one we're having right now even." Bart interrupted him.

Arthur stepped away for a bit and then turned towards Bart. "But that doesn't explain why you're here. Or how you found this place." He then continued where he left off.

"Well… I wouldn't be here if I didn't have to. The truth is, I kinda need your help."

"Explain," Arthur said bluntly.

"I'm gonna need a lot of time. And a lot of alcohol."

"I do not drink. Alcohol is not kept here."

"Hah…" Umbarth laughed a bit. "Yes, I know. You're the stoic type. Always so serious. I forgot truth be told."

"Hmmm. Now then. Tell me. What is going on in the world?" Arthur asked.

"Ughhh. Party pooper. Fine… where do I start? Oh, I know… How about the fact that E-Rantel no longer exists." Umbarth said with a level tone of voice as if he were commenting on the weather.

Arthur stared at him for a few seconds, as if he were struck by lightning, before saying a single word.

"What?"

Hello dear readers,

I hope you're all doing well. Sorry for the wait time, but it's that time of the year again when college exams start to creep up and try to strangle me. Thankfully, I had some help with this chapter and the next two as a matter of fact. A friend of mine named Crit on the Library of Ashurbanipal server wrote this mini-arc for you all to help me keep up some semblance of an upload schedule.

As always, I want to thank my beta readers and the people of the Library of Ashurbanipal server. Without them, I would not be able to give you all the high-quality writing that you deserve. If you guys ever want to chat and share with me your thoughts and criticisms, my DMS is always open and you can join the server I write on with the link on my profile. If that doesn't work, just shoot me a message and I'll help you out.

Until you collect the other eight!