For the next few days, my life settled into a routine that could only be described as:
Train, suffer, collapse, cuddle mermaid, repeat.
Lenna noticed Arial's behavior immediately.
The first morning after the "incident," Arial flinched the moment Lenna walked onto the training grounds. Her pupils shrank, her breath hitched, and she practically glued herself to my shadow like I was a portable safety blanket.
Lenna's eyes flicked once toward Arial.
A microsecond of analysis.
A flicker of recognition.
And then—
She turned away and said,
"Augustus, front-left position. Now."
That was it.
She didn't comment.
Didn't react.
Didn't raise a brow.
She simply filed the information away in that terrifying brain of hers and moved on with her day.
Arial clung to my presence like her life depended on it during every drill.
Lenna ignored it.
Alfred understood it but pretended he didn't.
Elder Jack pitied me openly.
Victoria judged me silently.
And I…
I was just trying not to die.
---
Night Routine of Shame and Comfort, Day Three
Arial curled into me the instant we got into bed, like clockwork. I didn't fight it — mostly because the moment she drifted away, her breathing turned shaky and the fear crept back into her aura.
So I let her sleep on me.
And somehow… I got used to it.
Don't judge me.
It's extremely comfortable.
Victoria, of course, made absolutely sure not to let this slide.
"Good night, Young Master," she would say dryly from the doorway,
"Try not to imprint on your slave."
Then she'd walk away like she hadn't just stabbed me in the dignity.
---
Day Four — Morning of Doom
I woke up like usual.
Warm. Comfortable. Mermaid blanket attached. Zero panic.
Honestly? It was becoming normal.
That should've been my warning.
Because normal never lasts in my life.
The door clicked open.
I assumed it was Victoria.
So naturally I said the worst possible sentence a human could produce:
"Victoria, if you're here to judge me again, at least wait—"
But the voice that answered wasn't Victoria.
"…Son."
My soul left my body so fast it created a sonic boom.
Arial jerked awake violently, ears flattened, tail of her dress frizzing like an electrocuted cat.
And there he stood.
Oliver Ironcreed.
My father.
The man who forged me through pain and then called it parenting.
He stared.
At me.
At Arial.
At the extremely compromising position where she was on top of me, arms wrapped around my torso, half-asleep, half-terrified.
His eyelid twitched.
A vein pulsed on his forehead.
He inhaled.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
"Explain," he said.
Not shouted.
Not barked.
Just said.
Which was far worse.
I panicked.
Fully.
Completely.
Instantly.
"It's not what it looks like—!"
"It is EXACTLY what it looks like!" Arial squeaked, clutching the blanket to her chest.
"STOP AGREEING WITH ME WHEN YOU SHOULDN'T!" I hissed.
My father closed the door behind him.
Not slamming it.
Just closing it.
That meant death was coming in a polite suit.
"Augustus," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I leave you alone for three days. Three. And this is what I return to?"
I scrambled upright, nearly dropping Arial off the bed.
"She has instincts! Deep Sense! Apex threat detection! Lenna triggers it! I'm just— I'm just an anchor! A biological comfort pillow!"
Arial hid behind me.
Which didn't help my case.
Father stared.
At my face.
At Arial's flushed cheeks.
At the arm I was forgetting was still around her.
Then he exhaled again, long and deep.
"Son," he said slowly, "is there any reason you couldn't simply place her in the guest room?"
"Her instincts panic when I'm not close enough!"
"And this proximity is medically required?"
Arial nodded instantly.
"Yes, Master's presence soothes the instinct response—"
"STOP ANSWERING LIKE THAT. YOU'RE MAKING IT WORSE."
Father pinched the bridge of his nose so hard I thought he would break it.
Finally, he muttered:
"Your mother is never hearing about this."
Arial blinked. "Shouldn't we inform the Mistress—?"
"NO," father and I shouted in perfect, terrified sync.
Arial froze. "…Oh."
Oliver sighed again — the sigh of a man mentally aging ten years.
"Augustus," he said calmly, "get dressed. We will talk outside."
I swallowed.
"…Yes, Father."
"And Ariel."
She stiffened.
"Y-yes, Lord Oliver…?"
He stared at her with the weary eyes of a man accepting his fate.
"…Put on more clothes."
Arial's soul left her body.
"Y-YES, LORD!!"
She saluted.
Why did she salute???
---
Five minutes later
I stood outside my room, fully dressed, hair still messy, face still burning with humiliation.
Father crossed his arms.
"Son."
"…Yes."
"I do not care what you do with your personal life."
"I'm not doing anything!"
"Good. Keep it that way."
I groaned. "Father, I swear— nothing is happening."
"I know."
"You… do?"
"You don't have the spine for it."
I choked. "EXCUSE ME??"
He waved me off.
"Save it. I understand both biology and mermaid instinct behaviors. If she needs proximity to stabilize, then fine — but you should've informed me."
"I didn't think—"
"That is the problem. You never think."
I closed my eyes in suffering.
He sighed.
"Just— keep this discreet. And keep her safe. If she panics during a dungeon, you all die."
My blood ran cold.
Arial stepped out then — fully dressed, neatly composed, head bowed.
"Lord Oliver… I sincerely apologize for this morning—"
He raised a hand.
"It's fine. Just don't cling to him like that in public."
Arial nodded rapidly.
I wanted to die.
Father finally turned to leave but paused at the door.
"Oh, and son?"
"…Yes?"
"Next time, lock your door."
I wanted to crawl into a dimensional crack and never return.
He left.
Arial looked at me helplessly.
"…Master, I-I think he misunderstood."
"No," I said, hand over my face. "He understood exactly. And that's the problem."
She fidgeted.
"I… will try not to sleep on you today."
"Good," I said.
pause.
Long pause.
"…If I can."
"Arial—"
"I'll try!"
Gods help me.
Lenna already terrifies her.
But now?
I have a new fear:
Father.
And today?
Lenna will absolutely notice something's off.
Because Arial?
Arial was still trembling.
And I had no idea how I was going to explain any of this to the future Matriarch.
Training that morning was… tense.
Not the usual kind — the "Lenna might dismember me with polite efficiency" kind — but the new, upgraded horror of my father saw me cuddling a mermaid and is definitely going to weaponize this emotionally kind.
Arial stood beside me, unusually stiff, eyes glued to the ground.
Alfred kept glancing at us like he was trying to solve a mystery.
Lenna… didn't look at all. She was focused on her warm-up swings, every motion sharp enough to slice my self-esteem.
Then—
THUD.
The ground shook.
A wave of authority rolled across the training field like a boulder thrown into a calm lake.
Everyone looked up.
My father — Oliver Ironcreed — strode across the grounds with a large black case slung over his shoulder.
His walk screamed:
Someone here disappointed me and I'm choosing violence.
Lenna's eyes narrowed a fraction.
Alfred straightened instantly.
Arial hid behind me like I was a human shield made of moral support.
Oliver stopped in front of us and tossed the case toward my chest with zero warning.
I barely caught it without dislocating my spine.
"Son," he said. "You left early. You forgot something this morning."
Right.
Because nothing says fatherly love like making your son's heart stop on arrival.
I opened the case.
My breath hitched.
Inside lay a sword forged in midnight and molten metal.
Darksteel. Polished to a mirror-black sheen. Molten-orange runes pulsing like living fire. The blade hummed — a low, metallic resonance that vibrated in my bones.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
Father crossed his arms.
"Your first real weapon. About time."
A system window unfolded:
---
Ironhowl Blade / A Rank
A darksteel sword carved with molten-orange runes that hum when charged. Its core metal holds a resonant pulse, giving each strike a sharp metallic howl.
Effects:
• Aura Conductivity: 100%
• Metal Magic Enhancement: Boosts density, shaping precision, cutting force
• Metallic Poisoning: On-hit metal mana infusion causes resonance instability — brittle armor, shaky balance, disrupted spell control
Skills:
• Reverberation Strike — delayed internal resonance hit, fractures metal, disrupts spells
• Ironhowl Pulse (Passive) — blade emits a low howl when charged, increasing cutting power
Cost: Aura
Requirement: Metal Affinity
---
Lenna actually paused mid-stretch.
Arial stopped breathing for three seconds.
Alfred whistled very quietly — the manly kind of whistle that says damn, I wish that were mine.
I swallowed hard.
"Father… this is too—"
"It suits you," he said simply. "You'll need it soon."
Translation:
The dungeon is going to try to eat you alive.
I gripped the hilt.
The sword vibrated, recognizing my mana instantly — a pulse, a low howl, a promise of violence.
This was a real weapon. A dangerous one.
And I loved it.
Then—
Oliver smirked.
The kind of smirk that meant suffering.
"Oh, and everyone," he said loudly enough for the entire training grounds to hear,
"my son sleeps with his mermaid slave."
I died.
Instantly. No respawn.
Lenna froze mid-movement.
Alfred's sword nearly slipped from his grip.
Arial squeaked so high only elves could hear it.
I turned, horrified.
"FATHER—!"
He shrugged. "What? It's adorable. She was wrapped around you like a starved octopus."
Arial's face burst into colors never seen in the natural world.
I covered my face with both hands.
"I told you that in confidence!"
"You didn't," he corrected. "You shouted it in panic."
I wanted to sink into the earth.
Lenna didn't speak. She didn't react. She simply resumed stretching.
Except her aura flickered — a brief silver pulse.
A warning.
A sharp I'm listening.
Great. Perfect.
Exactly what I needed.
Father clapped his hands like this was a cheerful gathering and not a homicide attempt on my reputation.
"Well, I'll leave you all to training."
He took three steps…
Paused.
Looked back at me.
"Oh, Augustus," he added casually.
"Since you're wondering why I embarrassed you—"
I wasn't wondering, I was plotting revenge—
"—it's because you told your mother about my fishing trip with the boys."
I froze.
"…What?"
Oliver smiled warmly.
That smile hurt.
"I said I was going on official business," he reminded me. "You, my thoughtful son, proudly told your mother I 'finally stopped working and went on that fishing trip I always talk about.'"
My soul cracked.
Arial looked confused.
Alfred looked entertained.
Lenna…
Lenna's eye twitched.
"And," Father continued cheerfully, "I forgot it was our anniversary."
Oh.
Oh no.
Arial whispered, horrified,
"M-Mistress Ironcreed… she must have been—"
"Livid?" Father nodded. "She threw a blood curse at me. I Barely survived."
I stared at him.
"So this is revenge."
"Yes," he said immediately. "Absolutely."
"You publicly humiliated me—because you forgot your own anniversary—?!"
"Correct."
"Father—"
"Grow stronger," he said, patting my shoulder. "Then maybe I'll stop bullying you."
He walked away.
Whistling.
I stood there, emotionally concussed.
Arial tugged my sleeve sympathetically.
Alfred patted my back like a fallen comrade.
Lenna, without turning around, said quietly:
"Get into formation, Augustus."
…Right.
Dungeon danger? Golems? Panic-inducing mermaids? Humiliating fathers?
Today, nothing could hurt me more.
I lifted the Ironhowl Blade.
"Alright," I muttered. "Let's train."
Because after everything?
I was absolutely getting strong enough to bully my father back.