87 - Punished again?!

  Nexha returned home with a gleam in his eyes and a satisfied smile on his face. The swordfish was strapped to his back with a braided seaweed strip, and in his hands, the trident still vibrated with an almost living excitement.

  He could hardly wait to show off his new creation.

  As he approached the bamboo house, he saw Lilay sitting at the entrance, holding Jasper in his lap. The baby was clearly in a bad mood, waving his little arms as if protesting something.

  Lilay looked up and blinked, confused.

  — You... hunted a swordfish? Even though you're grounded?

  Nexha flinched but quickly tapped the trident’s tip on the ground, trying to appear confident.

  — I didn’t get hurt this time! I wasn’t reckless! Dad won’t punish me that much...

  Lilay laughed at his expression, a comical mix of courage and apprehension.

  — Brother, you’re getting yourself into trouble again. But if you want, I can say I hunted it for you. That way, you won’t get scolded.

  — Over my dead body! I’d rather get punished by Dad than let you steal my hunt.

  — I just wanted to help my little brother...

  — Help, my ass! You just want to steal my fish! If I let you have it, you wouldn’t leave a single bone behind, you glutton.

  The two began to argue, while Jasper, ignoring his brothers’ fight, stared at the trident with shining eyes of fascination.

  Suddenly, the baby squirmed out of Lilay’s arms and swam quickly towards Nexha. Before they could react, Jasper stretched out his chubby hands and touched the sharp blade’s tip.

  — What the hell... — Lilay exclaimed, darting forward to grab the little one. He pulled Jasper back into his arms, but the baby started squirming, clearly frustrated that his new "toy" had been taken away.

  — Did you forge this? Like that knife? — Lilay asked, inspecting the weapon more closely.

  — Yes! With my own hands! — Nexha puffed up his chest with pride. — I used copper and tin, with a little bit of hatred...

  Lilay narrowed his eyes.

  — A little bit of hatred?

  — I was mad at that guy showing up in my dreams! When I made the weapon, I filled it with rage!

  Lilay was silent for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.

  — That... sounds dangerous.

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  Before he could say anything else, Jasper started crying, still reaching for the trident.

  Lilay held the baby more firmly.

  — Take that to Dad. Now. But if you want to avoid punishment, you can leave your hunt here.

  Nexha narrowed his eyes.

  — Nice try! I know you’ll eat everything if I leave it lying around.

  — Nexha, please, look at Jasper. Isn’t he cute? He needs meat to grow!

  — Don’t hide behind the baby!

  Huffing, Nexha turned around and went to find Krahs.

  Krahs was sitting at the top of the platform, soaking up some sun. The air was still as Nexha approached.

  The man didn’t even open his eyes before speaking:

  — Look who decided to show up... I thought it was impossible to lose track of someone who was supposedly grounded.

  Krahs’s tone made Nexha shiver. His father didn’t seem that angry, but the smile on his face said otherwise.

  Nexha swallowed hard.

  — I made a new weapon! And I didn’t get hurt! I hunted with caution, like a real hunter!

  Krahs finally opened his eyes and analyzed the scene before him. First, he looked at the weapon. Then at the swordfish, still dripping blood. And finally, back to the weapon.

  A long sigh escaped his lips as he stood up.

  — Can I see it?

  Nexha hesitated. King Slayer was his. He could feel the weapon didn’t like being touched by others.

  But he trusted Krahs.

  So, he handed over the trident.

  The moment Krahs’s fingers touched the metal, the air seemed to grow heavier.

  Nexha felt a chill run down his spine.

  The way Krahs held the weapon... was different. Natural. As if it had been made for him.

  The man ran his fingers slowly over the shaft, feeling every detail of the forge. His expression was unreadable, but there was something there. A strange glint in his eyes.

  Then, without warning, he spun the trident.

  The air split apart.

  Nexha could barely follow a single movement.

  Silent and precise.

  By the time he realized, there was a clear mark on the stone floor where Krahs had struck.

  Nexha’s stomach twisted.

  — It’s a good weapon... — Krahs said in a low voice. — But that doesn’t justify you disobeying me.

  Cold sweat trickled down Nexha’s neck.

  — This thing... shouldn’t be in your hands.

  Nexha blinked, confused.

  — What? Why? I made it!

  Krahs looked at him, his face serious.

  — Kid... rage isn’t something to play with.

  He spun the trident again, this time more slowly. Nexha’s eyes followed the motion, both fascinated and afraid.

  — You think you feel hatred, Nexha? — Krahs continued. — I know you’re angry. Frustrated... I am too. But that’s not real hatred.

  His voice changed. It became heavier, darker.

  — Real hatred is something that consumes you. That builds up. That grows and grows until there’s nothing left of you.

  He gripped the trident firmly.

  — Real hatred... isn’t a momentary impulse. It’s a weight. Something you carry for years. Something that rips pieces off you, but you refuse to let go of.

  Krahs’s eyes gleamed for an instant.

  — You’ve never seen what a man full of hatred can do. But I’ve also never seen someone get rid of all their little grudges by pouring them into a weapon like you did.

  Silence fell between them.

  Nexha felt a knot in his stomach.

  Because, looking at Krahs now, he saw something he sometimes preferred to ignore.

  His father wasn’t just a strong man. He wasn’t just a skilled hunter.

  He was a man full of repressed hatred.

  But unlike Nexha, he knew exactly what to do with it.

  Nexha swallowed hard.

  Krahs sighed, finally returning the trident.

  — You’re grounded.

  — Again?! But I—

  — One month without hunting. And forget about working with metal for a long time. If I see you firing up that forge for anything other than cooking, you’ll regret it.

  Nexha opened his mouth to protest but quickly closed it.

  He held King Slayer and looked at the weapon with a new weight in his chest.

  Maybe... maybe this weapon had never been meant for him. And yet, he didn’t understand how he had unknowingly made a weapon for his father.

  In the end, he accepted his punishment, even as the thought crossed his mind: The system manipulated me again.

  He wanted to laugh at himself. But if his father saw him laughing, he’d get an even worse punishment.