A Background Character's Path to Power-Chapter 79: Where the Real Story Began

"...Just like my mother."

I went silent.

A cold suspicion slithered into my gut as I studied Aeron’s face—the way his voice dipped when he spoke of her, the way his fingers twitched as if reaching for a ghost.

...She might not be in this world anymore.

But I didn’t say it. Didn’t dare.

Aeron continued, his voice softening with memory.

"I couldn’t tell when she appeared in front of me."

His fingers hovered in the air, mimicking a child’s hesitant reach.

"One second, she was standing on the water. The next—" A breath. "—she was right there. Kneeling. Extending her hand."

His lips quirked, just slightly.

"Do you need my help?"

The imitation of her voice was feather-light.

"And I—" His throat bobbed. "—I didn’t even think. Just... nodded. Reached out."

A beat.

"And just like that... it all began."

I nodded slowly, my mind painting the scene in sharp strokes—a small, bruised boy, a woman with silver robes, fingers brushing for the first time.

Aeron exhaled, his smile deepening with something bittersweet.

"Turns out, she didn’t just mean to help me stand up that time."

His fingers tapped against his knee, restless.

"After that, she’d always appear when I came to the lake. Always watching. Always... teaching." A quiet laugh. "Gently correcting my mistakes. Showing me how to hold a sword properly—how to move, how to breathe."

His gaze turned distant.

"I learned faster than I ever had before. Within a year, she told me I wielded a blade better than most grown men."

A scoff—half pride, half disbelief.

"And then she started testing me."

His fingers curled into fists.

"Small monsters in the forest. Weak ones at first. Then bigger. Faster." A pause. "She’d watch from the shadows, never interfering unless I was about to die."

A smirk tugged at his lips.

"And for the first time... I wasn’t helpless."

His voice dropped, quieter.

"It solved one problem, at least. The hunger."

A flicker of warmth in his tone.

"I’d hunt. Bring back rabbits, birds—whatever I could catch. And my mother..."

"...She’d cook them for us."

"..."

"Those were the good old days..."

Aeron’s voice trailed off, his fingers absently tracing the edge of his sleeve.

For a moment, his expression softened—just a boy remembering the first time life had ever been kind to him.

"For a while... things were really good."

A huff of laughter.

"I got stronger. Fought back against the bullies. Made sure my mother never went hungry again." His fingers flexed, calloused and scarred. "Even the servants started treating us a little better—not out of kindness, but because they didn’t want to risk pissing off someone who could actually swing a sword now."

A smirk. Faint, but there.

Then—

"And then he found me."

His voice flattened.

The shift was instant—like clouds swallowing the sun.

"The swordmanship instructor."

A muscle in his jaw twitched.

"The one who trained my precious half-siblings."

The word dripped venom.

"I was practicing by the lake—running through the forms she taught me. And then—"

A sharp inhale.

"—I heard a gasp."

His fingers mimicked the memory—the sudden freeze of a child caught in something he shouldn’t have been doing.

"When I turned, the swordmaster was standing there. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Like..." A bitter chuckle. "Like a miner who’d just stumbled onto a gold mine."

Aeron’s imitation of the man’s voice was pitch-perfect—the breathless, frantic tone of someone seeing potential where they’d only ever seen trash before.

"’Where did you learn that?! Show me that move again! No—no, slower this time!’"

A pause.

"And then, before I could even answer—"

His fingers twitched.

"’Prodigy. Genius. Unbelievable.’"

Each word was spat out like a curse.

"I wanted to tell him. About her."

Aeron’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"But then... I heard her voice. Just in my head. Clear as day."

His fingers pressed against his temple, as if reliving the moment.

"’Keep it a secret.’"

A beat.

"So I lied."

A humorless smile.

"Told him I’d learned it all myself. By peeking at my siblings’ training."

"And then, the man lost his damn mind."

Aeron’s laugh was hollow.

"Started raving about how the family would produce another great swordmaster. How he had to inform my father. How I had to join the official training and so on."

His voice wavered—just for a second.

"...I was still a kid. "

A whisper.

"I let myself hope."

A breath.

"... So I agreed."

The words hung between us, heavy with the weight of a child’s foolish dream.

Then—

"For a while... things did change."

"The servants stopped ’forgetting’ our meals. The knights actually acknowledged me. My training became... official. That man personally overseed it himself, saying I will become the master of a great swordmaster."

A pause.

"But my family?"

A scoff.

"Still looked at me like dirt on their shoes."

His fingers clenched.

"And my father?"

A sharp, brittle laugh.

"Never even came to see me."

Silence.

Then—

"But my mother..."

His voice softened. Just slightly.

"...She could eat, smile, even laugh sometimes."

A fragile thing.

"But... That was enough."

His fingers uncurled.

"I trained even more harder. Got stronger. But I still went back to the lake—to her. Learned more than that swordmaster could’ve ever taught me."

A smirk.

"And within a year?"

"I’d beaten every other kid under 16 in the family. Even some of the lower knights."

A pause.

"That was also when I finally left the estate and went into the city, for the first time."

His expression shifted—something almost... fond?

"And that’s when I met her."

A beat.

"I met Emilia."

The name was spoken carefully. Like it might break.

"I saved her from some thugs. She called me a hero." A snort. "As if."

But the corner of his mouth twitched.

"But, we became... friends."

"She visited often to play with me. And I’d show off my swordsmanship, play the hero while she was the princess. I would slay the evil monsters and save her, all foolish kid stuff you know."

"And..."

"She soon became the third closest person I had after mother and her."

"But..."

His voice darkened.

"But good things don’t last."

A chill ran down my spine.

Aeron’s fingers tightened around his knees.

"Not for someone like me."