Beating up an old man

Never wield a spear.

Never swear a blood oath.

Never go underground.

Kael had sworn these three things at the risk of his life. If he broke them, the voice would come to claim him for good.

Breathing erratically, Kael pressed himself against the wall of the house, hiding.

He couldn't believe how foolish he had almost been, on the verge of breaking his oath just a week later. What would have happened if he had actually gone down those stairs?

Would the voice have appeared? Or would he need to break all three vows for his death to ensue?

Did he really need to find out?

He vigorously shook his head and peered around the corner at the house's open door. No one had emerged yet, but Kael didn't dare continue running. That would make him too visible and easy for his parents to identify.

So, he decided to wait and pray to Atherion that he wouldn't get caught.

At that thought, he couldn't help but smile a little and looked up at the sky.

"I'm more afraid of getting caught than being killed by a supernatural being," he thought and began to calm down slowly.

Unfortunately, his respite was short-lived.

"What's so funny, Kael Adar?"

The voice made Kael jump. He hadn't noticed anyone approaching. Turning to his side, he saw neither his mother nor his father but a completely different person.

It was a man with closely cropped hair and an unkempt stubble. The man had a square, stubborn face marked with a scar just under his left eye. Unusually for Zephyria, he wore not a Ra'ed but just a brown cloak that seemed to stem from an era before the divine Beasts.

But what surprised Kael the most was... the man was actually shorter than him! Kael rarely encountered an adult, let alone a man, who was shorter than himself. Now that was a rarity, though not necessarily a pleasing one in this tense moment.

But Kael couldn't afford to revel in this oddity because the man's expression was anything but amused.

"How do you know my name?" Kael asked, raising his eyebrows, perplexed and apprehensive about the man's knowledge and intentions.

The man grunted in response, his face expressing a sort of exasperated familiarity as if he had had this conversation many times before.

"The Adar's are all the same."

Kael frowned, puzzled. "Do you know my mother and father?"

The man fixed him with a sharp look. "What do you think you're doing here? You were eavesdropping on us, weren't you? Have you got nothing but air in your head? Of course, I know them."

Kael swallowed hard. He had suspected as much: this was the mysterious owner of the house. Lost for words, Kael struggled to come up with an excuse that wouldn't infuriate the man further.

"Got your tongue?" The man stepped toward Kael, who instinctively stepped back, disliking how the situation was unfolding.

"Come on, boy, I'll teach you some manners. When you break into somewhere... something else breaks too."

The man clenched his fist, and Kael didn't need to ask what would come next. So, he braced himself. If the old man wanted a fight, he would get one.

Back then with his sister it had been a different story. He couldn't just start a fight with her, especially when their parents were around.

But regarding a stranger or another kid, even this old man, he wouldn't hesitate to let his fists do the talking.

Surprised, the old man raised his eyebrows as he noticed Kael had stopped retreating and instead had adopted a fighting stance. Not a proper one, of course, but Kael had been in enough brawls—often instigated by himself.

The man paused and his mouth dropped open as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Then he burst out laughing so loudly it seemed the whole desert could hear him. Kael grimaced, but the man continued to laugh as if he had just witnessed the funniest thing in the world.

"Ha! You... you little rascal, you're truly a young Adar!"

The man laughed again, bending over as he clutched his stomach in pain from the laughter.

Kael's initial uncertainty began to fade, replaced by anger at the sight of the man mocking him, just when he had braced for a physical confrontation.

"Oh, so young, yes. So young that you look like a crippled chick! Look at yourself! Are you fighting the ground?" the man managed to say before bursting into another fit of laughter.

Now Kael was truly furious. And the last straw was the man's next words.

"Now I understand Ammar. If you were my son, I'd want to be away all the time too!"

Kael's face flushed with rage. Initially, he just wanted to defend himself and then disappear. But now, he was determined to give the old man a piece of his mind. He seemed to want it no other way.

"Well, because you're their son, there's still a little hope."

Kael lunged forward, fists clenched. He planted his right foot firmly in the sand and swung a hook aimed at making the man taste the dust.

"But unfortunately..."

The punch was aimed directly at the man's face... if it had still been there. Kael's blow hit nothing, and he lost his balance from the momentum, stumbling forward.

"...you're really lame."

The eternal flame was incredibly bright, standing high in the sky, causing Kael to squint.

"Why... why am I seeing the sky?" Kael wondered dizzily.

Only after a moment did his body register the impact of hitting the ground, and all of his breath was knocked out of him as if he had run straight into a wall.

How on earth had he ended up on the ground? And how had his punch missed?

The eternal flame in his view was suddenly replaced by the disappointed face of the old man. He simply shook his head.

"As I said," he spoke while standing over Kael, "nothing compared to Ammar, you could—"

Then Kael's thoughts sharpened, and anger surged again. He sprang up, pushing off with his hands behind his head and using his legs for momentum. He caught the old man off guard and headbutted him in the midst of rising.

But it felt as though he had slammed his head against a rock.

"Ahh!! Damn!" he yelled out as he staggered back, rubbing his forehead vigorously.

Although the man was surprised by the sudden attack, he seemed completely unharmed and even grinned.

"Not bad at all," he said softly, but Kael didn't hear him.

"Your head is made of metal, damn it!" Kael cursed, coming to a stop. He looked up and saw the grinning man.

Despite the pain and the clear impending defeat, Kael wouldn't run away. This man had infuriated and embarrassed him. He would land at least one punch. One.

The man's grin only widened as he saw that Kael had no intention of stopping now.

"Come on, little one! Show me!" he taunted, beckoning Kael with his hand.

This time would be different. Kael still didn't understand how during the previous punch, the man had seemingly vanished into thin air, and his head was too filled with rage to make a rational decision.

The man's condescending behavior spurred him on—Kael was determined to wipe that stupid grin off his face.

But just as he was about to leap again, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled around, his fist leading, but it was effortlessly caught in a hand.

His father stood behind him, towering like a wall and sighed. "Don't get so worked up, Kael. The old man is just playing with you."

Kael paused. Now that his father was here, he had missed his chance. Damn.

"How dare you call me old!" the man protested, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kael looked over his shoulder. Just you wait, he thought to himself. He would get his revenge.

Ammar looked at his son and seemed to immediately realize what had happened. He sighed again and let go of Kael's arm, which he quickly snatched back. For a moment, Kael considered using his newfound freedom to launch another attack on the old man.

"Don't even try it, Kael," his father stopped him.

Kael didn't even ask how his father knew what he was planning, he just grumbled but left the old man alone.

"I've been trying for years myself; the old man just can't be taken down," Ammar Adar laughed, patting his son on the shoulders.

"You won't be able to do it even when I'm in the grave," the old man retorted with a hearty laugh, "and certainly not your son!"

Kael's eyes widened. A man stronger than his father? He looked at the small, old man, who could have easily passed for a street beggar.

This man?!

Ammar's expression then turned serious as he spun Kael around by the shoulders, forcing them to face each other.

"What were you thinking, Kael? You were told not to come. And then you just walked into the house! That's not how you were raised."

Kael opened his mouth to respond, perhaps he would have said that he hadn't really been raised by anyone, but the old man interrupted him.

"It doesn't matter, Ammar, the boy broke in, and there will be consequences."

Ammar burst into laughter again. "Do you really want to beat up Lyla's son before she's even heard him out? You've really gone mad, old man."

The man squinted his eyes. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then slowly nodded.

"Fair point," he said and turned around.

Ammar let his shoulders slump in exhaustion. Whether it was because of the man or Kael, he couldn't tell. It was probably both.

Kael was uncertain how to feel. Since he had met the man, his anger was accompanied by growing curiosity. He definitely wanted to land a punch on him, a big and hard one at that, but he also wanted to know how he had done that! He had never seen even his father move like that.

And the way his father talked to the old fart. They were probably old friends. How had they met? What relationship did they have? Kael wanted to know.

"Come on, boy," Ammar said to his son, nudging him towards the house, "let's see what trouble you've gotten yourself into."

But right now, it wasn't important. Kael knew he might be in big trouble.

And having his mother there could either be a blessing or a curse.