Chaos' Heir-Novel

Many years filled with meaningful, often tragic events had passed since Khan last stepped on Ylaco's training ground. Back then, he was nothing more than a kid, broke, ignorant, and innocent. Yet, his return told him how much he had changed.

Khan saw familiar walls and details as soon as the teleportation ended. He knew that place, but his heightened senses made him experience it for the first tagain. Also, his memory got in the way, leading to sad realizations.

'Small,' Khan thought, inspecting the area. 'Cheap.'

After witnessing all kinds of luxurious environments, Khan couldn't help but reevaluate the training ground's teleportation building. That place had looked majestic six years ago, but he only spotted flaws now. Moreover, it had becan ordinary sight in Khan's mind.

The place was crowded, but the soldiers had done a better job keeping reporters away there. A few teams of experienced guards connected to the Nognes family were in the room. Those troops were waiting for Khan, ensuring he could reach his destination smoothly.

Khan ignored the polite and stern salutes that reached his ears to focus on the symphony. He half-expected Lieutenant Dyester to be part of the welcoming party, but his aura was nowhere to be seen. That was also predictable, but Khan would deal with it only after handling the main issue.

"Leadto my father," Khan ordered, stepping off the platform and striding forward, uncaring whether the soldiers were following him.

Of course, the various teams moved, escorting Khan outside and leading the way to a nearby open space. A simple ship was resting on the training ground's green grass, and its doors had already opened to receive him.

The teleport had been sudden, and the training ground had more available manpower, but a small crowd had still gathered outside the security perimeter. Khan spotted multiple figures waiting a few blocks away to catch a glimpse of the Nognes family's new Prince, and memories inevitably flooded his mind.

Khan mostly saw students, and the symphony updated him on their moods. Excitement, respect, worship, eagerness, and more filled those young minds. Many looked up to Khan, almost conveying the desire to follow his steps. He was a hero of the Global Army, the best of the best, but he couldn't enjoy that fame.

The students' excitement made Khan think about the price he had to pay to get where he was. Moreover, those seemingly crowded, distant streets reminded him of the desolation after Istrone's crisis. The training ground seemed to have forgotten what had happened, but he couldn't.

Nothing appeared on Khan's face. His expression remained cold and emotionless as the soldiers escorted him to the ship. The vehicle's insides had been rearranged to turn the cargo area into a narrow but comfortable living room, with waiters delivering refreshments as soon as he sat at the central table.

Khan ignored the food and focused on the booze, sticking to his silence while the ship set off. Many thoughts filled his mind, reviewing his entire knowledge and memories. He was ready for the imminent reunion, but his preparation didn't make it any lighter.

The ship left the training ground's range and dived into Ylaco's Slums, quickly arriving at the destination the Nognes family had secured. Nevertheless, before the vehicle could land, Khan stood up and opened its side doors.

A familiar stench and sight invaded Khan's senses. The Slums' brittle and makeshift habitations filled his view, but he couldn't recognize any street or house. That place changed too often to retain any similarity after six whole years, but Khan still saw it as his original home.

Countless eyes stared at the floating ship and the figure standing by its doors. Those vehicles were always a surprising sight in the Slums, so the many wanderers and inhabitants checked them, flooding the streets or peeking past holes in their habitations.

The general attention didn't distract Khan. The area had one odd, vast spot. Soldiers had isolated an entire block, protecting the two-story tall habitation among them. His destination couldn't be clearer, and his legs moved to jump toward it.

"Leave," Khan ordered while floating down, slowly descending toward the isolated block.

Khan's sudden descent didn't give the ship's crew tto complain, and the soldiers on the ground soon suffered from a similar fate. A similar order escaped his mouth as soon as he landed inside the dusty perimeter. "Clear the area."

One of the nearby soldiers opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to complain, but gales suddenly flew everywhere, lifting clouds of dust. Cracks also appeared on the isolated building's surfaces, highlighting Khan's seriousness and preventing further protests.

The soldiers began to disperse, but Khan only focused on the isolated building. He could sense the familiar aura inside, but other details reached his mind. His sole aura could lift dust and break the house's brittle surfaces. It seemed the Slums couldn't withstand his presence for long.

The spiritual loneliness showed its presence, but Khan ignored it as he stepped toward the building. His strength seemed to have cut away his original hfrom his life, but his mind couldn't focus on that sad event.

Khan entered the house, slowly moving toward the familiar aura. As he advanced, he saw broken tiles used to cover holes, burned carpets, torn blankets, empty bottles, and more. Even the small living room was a mess, including the person sleeping on its dirty metal table.

Bret was snoring, his face partially buried in his arm. The other was on the table, clinging to an empty bottle. The stench of sweat, booze, and puke filled the air, awakening memories and habits.

Khan didn't make a sound as he seized the empty bottle and left it on the floor among the rest of the trash. He even moved to a nearby, smelly couch to retrieve a blanket and place it on Bret's shoulders. He had gone through that routine countless times, and his body still recalled it.

However, something else had changed completely. Khan gracefully sat at the other side of the table, his eyes resting on the sleeping figure. He recognized his father but couldn't see the sman from his memories.

The findings about the missing part of the nightmare tainted every good memory with a bitter aura. Khan saw nothing more than a drunken liar, a man he couldn't trust anymore. That feeling spread everywhere, forcing him to reevaluate the years spent together.

There was something else, too. Bret's torso radiated a certain stench Khan's heightened senses didn't miss. His body had something odd, seemingly artificial, increasing the number of secrets his father carried.

Khan silently watched Bret, and eventually, a tremor ran through the man's mana. Bret groaned as he woke up and lifted his head, and a frown invaded his expression when his unfocused eyes noticed Khan.

Bret rubbed his eyes, squinting them to take another look at the silent Khan. The long blue hair and the cold expression seemed to confuse him for a second, but a broad smile soon appeared.

"You took your time!" Bret loudly laughed. "What is it? Did you have no desire to see your old man?"

Khan didn't reply, and Bret didn't wait for him. The latter straightened his back and drew a full bottle from his lap, opening and drinking from it before leaving it on the table.

"I don't blyou," Bret snickered. "You got a nice girlfriend to attend to. I would have chosen her over me, too."

"Fiancée," Khan corrected, his unwavering eyes fixed on Bret.

Bret's smile grew smaller but didn't disappear. It lost its brutish and drunken vibe to gain a strange sweetness. Even his expression turned more serious and slightly sad.

Khan craved the drink. Everything about the situation made him desire to get wasted. Still, he didn't move.

"Why did you lie to me?" Khan asked the question that had afflicted his mind for years.

"You should know better than to ask serious questions so early in the morning," Bret cursed, retrieving the bottle to take a long sip.

The morning had passed for a while, but Khan didn't point that out. He merely looked at Bret, waiting for the answer to his question.

"Fine," Bret cursed again before Khan's unwavering gaze. "What was it? Right. All the infected subjects went crazy due to the intensity of the visions. I had to suppress them somehow."

Khan noticed something odd, but Bret recalled something and didn't let him speak.

"Wait, you asked about the lie," Bret exclaimed. "I thought keeping you curious would have forced you to get stronger quickly to get answers. I couldn't give you much else after the Nognes cutaway from everything."

After the last explanation, the odd details took proper form. Bret mentioned the Nognes family without any drawbacks.

"Where's your restriction?" Khan asked.

"I removed that years ago," Bret snorted. "I figured you would have wanted answers the next tyou cto see me."

The explanation didn't satisfy Khan at all. At best, it irritated him. Bret spoke so casually about something that had afflicted him for years and didn't even bother looking guilty in the meantime.

"Answerthis," Khan uttered, glancing at Bret's torso. "What do you have there?"

"Oh, this?" Bret asked, pointing at his chest. "It's what your genius father invented on the spot, the only known method to delay the Nak's mutations."

Bret stood up, letting the blanket fall while removing his ragged T-shirt. His dirty and slightly hairy torso appeared in the open, but pressing on specific spots on his chest revealed the unthinkable.

A whooshing noise resounded as lines appeared on Bret's torso. His chest, abdomen, and waist turned into a lid, which he opened sideways to reveal its insides. Machines filled the spaces intended for multiple organs, making Khan wonder whether Bret was alive at all.

"Most of your organs and tissues were bogus after the Second Impact," Bret explained, closing his torso. "You took after your mother, but we had enough compatibility for a transplant. It didn't remove the mutations, but I hoped it would keep you human long enough to get used to them."

The torso sealed itself, and its edges disappeared. On the surface, Bret's body looked completely ordinary, but Khan now knew the bitter truth it hid.

"I couldn't remove that nasty scar," Bret continued, sitting down, "But I left no marks of the transplant. Damn, I was good."

Khan was speechless. He had spent years reevaluating his relationship with his father, and that short scene had restarted the process. He didn't know what to think, let alone what to say.

"Sadly," Bret added. "I had to cleanse my tissues from my mana. I cashed a few favors to get specialists and succeed, but my level fell. It's hard to retain a high attunement with no enhanced organs to prove it."

Khan's speechlessness continued, but the anger had disappeared. Only one question had remained inside his mind, and his mouth eventually moved to voice it.

"Why?" Khan asked.

"Because you are my son," Bret said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I couldn't give you power, money, or solutions, but I had the chance to give you time, so I took it."