823 Art of Giving
Mirani Tate stared at the screen and the change the criminal’s speech brought. The young men staring at the screen had an ambitious glint in their eyes as they heard his words. Most of them had printed posters of Arthur Silvera against Amelio in their houses, which made their blood boil.
“I don’t offer peace but a promise to fight alongside you if you fight alongside me. The ten guilds under me will receive as many artifacts as they need and more for outstanding achievements. I promise to be your blood and every benefit that comes with that. If you seek strength, seek me. If you seek wealth, seek me. If you seek glory, seek me. Seek me.”
The speech ended with that, with Arthur staring straight at the cameras. Then, after a few moments of silence, the crowd excitedly roared. At that moment, flyers were thrown in the air, and Mirani glimpsed a few shadows running about.
It seems that Arthur was dedicated to this campaign. He has been hesitating about letting strangers into his home, so proxy guilds were a wise decision. This way, he would create a hierarchy that could weed out spies.
The knights tried to control the crowd and destroy the flyers, but they were overwhelmed and soon fled. As for Mr. Tate, he walked among the crowd unhindered as a thin invisible wall pushed people away from him.
“Give me one of those flyers!”
“I want to join too!”
“Don’t let the knights take them!”
As he watched the crowd’s craze, he wondered if Arthur knew what would happen soon. Whether he wished it or not, some will loathe him, while others will worship him as a G.o.d. In either case, the world is falling into mayhem.
Knights struck the citizens, and the citizens. .h.i.t back. Mirani Tate ignored the chaos and walked back toward the old street where his shop was. The rubbles have been cleared, and the roads were cleaned, but most buildings were hit by the mana beams and destroyed.
“Shielders,” muttered Mirani Tate while looking at the sign on the ground. It was in front of the destroyed shop he built from scratch after retiring from the business. As he picked it up, his missing fingers reminded him that fighting was no longer suitable for him. “I have to build this from scratch.”
“Excuse me, I think that sign is ours,” said a voice ahead of him, and Mr. Tate raised his head to find a young man, covered in dust, who seemed to have been working inside his shop. It took him a moment to realize this was his boy, and the latter recognized him back. “Dad?”
“I’m home, Ciaron,” said Mr. Tate with a smile. His son paused before letting go of his hammer and rushing to hug his father tightly, and Mr. Tate hugged him back. “I’m sorry for taking so long to come back.”
pan,da n<0,>v,el “We thought you were dead,” said Ciaron as he hugged him tightly. “Where have you been for so long?”
“I was injured and recovering,” said Mr. Tate as he patted his son’s back. “How are your mother and sister? Are the two of them alright?”
“We managed to run away in time, thanks to you,” said Ciaron as he broke their embrace. “Our house has been destroyed, so we are currently living in a shelter. The Reconstructions a.s.sociation gave us enough support to rebuild our shop and build a new home on the second floor.”
“That’s very kind of them,” said Mr. Tate with a smile as he turned toward his shop. “This business is my father’s legacy, which I have accepted only after his death. It does not have to be yours.”
“What are you saying, father?”
“The destruction of our shop can be a new beginning for us,” said Mr. Tate while staring at his sign. “You can pursue your dreams, and I can close this business for good.”
“I don’t understand where this is coming from,” said Ciaron with confusion. “Our business was good before the calamity, and this is our chance to stand out among the rest. We can make our family known again.”
“A small goal with the current events of the world,” said Mr. Tate with sadness. “There is no point building something that isn’t going to last. There are more important things to focus on.”
“What things, dad?” retreated Ciaron before turning toward the screens in the distance and the chaos in the square. “Are you talking about him?”
“I know you never liked Arthur, but you have to understand that things changed,” said Mirani as he patted his son’s shoulder. “I owe him a great debt. He was the one to heal me, even though I was the one to ruin his life.”
“You did no such thing. I know you sent money to his mother every month out of respect for his father, so how is that ruining a life?”
“These are details that I can spare,” said Mirani before he walked toward his shop. “You can open this shop if you want to, but I will not be a part of it.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to grow stronger again to protect our family. But, the world is ending, so we must prepare as well,” said Mirani as he walked into the store and removed the rubbles. The fallen walls were easy to clear, but they were too many.
“What are you looking for, dad?” asked Ciaron as he followed his father and helped him clear away the store. In the end, they revealed the metallic door of the bas.e.m.e.nt. “The safe is still intact?”
“I made sure to find the best safe, which I can only open,” said Mirani before turning toward his son. “Have you ever wondered what I have stored in here?”
“You always said it was our family’s secret,” said Ciaron while looking at his father with confusion. “It should be a rare artifact, right?”
Mirani looked at his son, whose face was covered in sweat and brows furrowed with confusion. Then, he shook his head before placing his hand on the safe.
“Our ancestors were among the first to arrive in this world, and they had to find a way to survive. In the end, they left us with this,” said Mirani as the runic door opened, revealing stairs that led down below.
As he climbed down, his son followed suit and closed the door behind them. Lanterns flickered before lighting the underground bas.e.m.e.nt, a simple room with a chest in the middle.
“What is this, dad?” asked Ciaron with confusion. “You make it seem as if this is some great secret. Just tell me what this is.”
“No need for impatience, Ciaron,” said Mirani as he crouched in front of the chest. “This is your inheritance, as much as it is mine. But, unfortunately, it’s also a secret that can never be shared with outsiders. Thus, I had to protect it all this time.”
The chest was old, almost fragile enough to break down, but it withstood the tests of time. Mirani opened it, and a light shone from within it, making Ciaron squint his eyes. In the end, the light disappeared, and there was a simple scroll.
“A scroll?” asked Ciaron with disappointment as his father picked it up and unfolded it. “An empty scroll, dad? We don’t have any lack of papers.”
“Only a Tate descendant who learned to use spiritual energy can read this memory fragment. However, there is an art within it that has been pa.s.sed down from our ancestors. They named it Art of Giving.”
“That doesn’t sound very domineering,” said Ciaron with disappointment, making him suffer his father’s angry gaze. “…I will keep my mouth shut. Forgive me.”
“Art of Giving is rare, where one pledges his life for their family first and the human race second. Once undertaken, a countdown starts, and its end means death.”
The words made Ciaron gulp down with nervousness. Mirani stared at the scroll before his spiritual energy seeped into it, revealing its art. However, his son grabbed his hand before he could read it.
“What are you doing?” asked Mirani with confusion.
“That should be my line, dad. You say that once this art is learned, death is imminent for the user. And yet, here you are, attempting to use it.”
“…this is the only chance we have,” said Mirani with a sigh, as a helpless shadow appeared on his face. “We almost died in our last battle, and I was helpless against our enemies. If more follow as promised, then our family will not survive.”
“We can hide somewhere until the end of our lives.”
“And what about your children?” asked Mirani with a smile. “I am willing to let go of my life because you are alive and well, ready to continue our family’s line.”
“This feels wrong, dad. But, please, let’s wait a few days before doing anything rash. Let’s get out of here, think this through, and talk to mom.”
Mirani’s resolve softened, faced with his son’s pleading expression, making him sigh and place the scroll back into the box. Then, the two of them left the room and closed the bas.e.m.e.nt.
“The shelter is this way, so follow me,” Ciaron smiled before leading the way. Mirani followed, but after a few steps, he heard a voice coming from above. It was one he recognized from his last battle against a certain swordsman.