Chapter 41: Do we need to have a rest day?

Hector walked home in silence. Lincoln had followed him and Mirae for a while, but eventually he broke off, heading to his house, leaving Hector and Mirae to walk alone. Hector spoke very few words to Mirae as they trudged the familiar streets of the Sirius quarter home. A lot of people were out today—many probably came from the festival. 

He paid them no mind. His thoughts were a mess. The general chatter was but a distant din as he let his feet guide him home. He had a lot to consider. He and his friends needed to meet up to split the earnings and figure out if they had enough to help his dad. And Hector needed to have a talk with Mirae. The stuff she’d seen today was too much—he would probably be a wreck if it wasn’t for the system and the adrenalin. 

But that was another thing. The system. It apparently was regulating his emotions, somehow. Was that something to worry about? Was he in danger? It didn’t feel like it, but still. Was he even in control?

He looked down at Mirae, watching as her long white hair bounced and sway in the wind. It curled around her shoulder and washed over her face, hiding her features. Hector couldn’t see it, but he didn’t doubt that she was worried—today had to have been too much for her. But then again, she was a Mana Cultivator now. This could be only the beginning of the horrors she would see. 

Eventually, after a few silent moments, and greeting a few neighbours. Some of them were overly eager to ask them what had happened—not everyone had been lucky enough to go to the festival. After all, they were poor. In all rights, Hector should have been at the dump scavenging, trying to stave off said poverty. The two of them made it to the crumbling building they called home. Pushing past the rotting gate, and trudging up the dirt, dappled with stone, path. Hector sighed.

He slumped down onto a tree stump, resetting just to the side of their front door, which lead straight into their kitchen. Mirea shambled over and rested her head on his shoulder, sobbing as her body shook. “What just happened, Hector? What were those things?” 

Hector raised a hand and rested it on her head. The words he wanted to say juggled around his mind, jostling to come out. They wouldn’t be right, no matter the order they came out in. How could he even explain what had happened? He didn’t even fully understand himself. 

But in the end, he closed his eyes, feeling Mirae's presence on his shoulder, and sighed. “Don’t worry, they can’t hurt you. As long as I’m here, they never will.”   

“But you won’t always be there.” Mirea said. As he went to speak, Mirea cut him off. “I need to get stronger. I can’t be your weak little sister forever. What happens when something happens to you? Who is going to take care of you?” 

“I…” Hector brushed her forehead and let out a sigh as he watched a beetle crawl across the dirt, scavenging. It had such a simple life. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip and turned his gaze to the sky. His sister was right, he wouldn’t always be around. When that time came, what could she do? “Mirae, I have something to talk to you about. It’s about you getting stronger and it’s about your Talent.” 

“My what?” She said, taking her head off his shoulder and turning to face him. Her purple eyes, puffy from her sobbing, looked at him with confusion. “What is a Talent?” 

“Well—”

The front gate crashed open—not doing wonders for its already failing integrity. And there stood their father. Heaving as his chest rose and fell, staring at the two. The look in his eyes morphed from worry to what Hector could only assume was relief, and he rushed towards them. 

“By the Great Lake. Thank the heavens you're both alright.” He stopped short before them and bent down, scooping Mirae into a bear hug, delivering kiss after kiss to her face. “Thank the heavens, thank the heavens. I’d thought I’d lost you.” Tears streamed down his face as he turned to Hector. 

His father then dropped to one knee, wrapping one arm around Hector and holding Mirae in the other. Practically squeezing the life out of him. Mirae squirmed in their father’s grasp, and Hector forced back a chuckle as a sense of warmth washed through him—His father hadn’t acted like this in a while. But he wouldn’t complain. 

“Father, it’s alright.” Mirea said, tapping his back. “You don’t need to squeeze the life out of us.” 

At her words, their father loosened his grip and chuckled. “When I heard what happened, I almost died. You don’t know how worried I was.” 

“No, but I can certainly feel it,” Hector said, letting out a chuckle. The wind rustled through his father’s hair as Hector tracked the wrinkles on the man’s face. It seemed like he’d aged a few years. “Wait, shouldn’t you be at work?” 

“What would be the point of work if something happened to you?” He said, resting a hand on Mira’s head. “All I do. Everything is for the two of you. Nothing else matters.” 

Hector went to say something but found that the words wouldn’t come. His lips parted, and he scanned his father’s face, looking for something. In many ways, it was how Hector felt about both of them, but to have him say it so plainly. It caught Hector off guard—his father rarely did anything that caught him off guard.

“Alright then,” his father said, releasing the two of them. “Let’s get inside.” 

Hector ran his tongue across his bottom lip and sighed. He had to make sure they were all okay. His father pushed opened the door and waved him and Mirae inside. Hector got to his feet, sparing a glance at the garden gate before walking into the house, into the kitchen. He wasn’t strong enough to protect everyone yet, and the system was his only way forward. 

“You good, Hector?” His father asked as Hector trudged over to the kitchen table. 

Hector nodded and pulled a seat out from underneath the table. “Its been a long day, that’s all.” 

Mirae pulled out the chair next to him and slumped down. Fiddling with her fingers as her gaze flickered between the two. Hector smiled at her as she spoke. “You wouldn’t believe the things we’ve seen today, Father. It was unheard of.” 

“Oh really? Tell me about it.” Hector’s father said. Hector's lips twitched into a frown as the man walked over to the cupboard. Pulling it open, he gripped the bottle inside and grab the glass next to it. “Sorry guys, but I need to celebrate. You don’t mind, do you?” 

What the hell is wrong with you? We are finally having a good moment and you pull this crap.

Hector loved his father. Even the part of him that didn’t come from this world loved the man. But his behaviour. It was idiotic. Did he not know the damage he was doing to himself? Sure, he was a cultivator—whisky that wasn’t infused with mana wouldn’t do much—but that didn’t excuse the behaviour. 

Hector pushed himself from the table, his chair scraping against the aged wooden floor. As he stood, Mirae glance up at him and raised a brow. She didn’t deserve this, but he wouldn’t stay and watch. He wouldn’t watch his father poison this moment. He wouldn’t watch his father poison himself. 

“I just realised I have something to do,” Hector said, lifting his hand and resting it atop Mirae’s head. He brushed his thumb across her forehead, turning to his dad with a frown.

“No, stay. We were just about to—” 

“Sorry, Dad. Please, it’s important.” Hector said, stepping out of the way of his chair and sliding it underneath the table. 

The bottle of whisky thumped against the table’s wooden surface as Hector’s father placed it down. He paused and looked at Mirae before regarding Hector. “Alright, Mirae can fill me in. You go, do what you have to do. But—”

“Thanks, dad.” Hector swiveled on his heel and strode out of the room. Taking a deep breath with every step. He loved his dad. But this was becoming ridiculous. Besides, he didn’t have all day to sit and talk. Because of his father and his pride, Hector had to find some way to save this family. 

He marched through the hallway, frowning at chipped wooden planks and peeling paint that revealed a colonise of Medew behind it. The house was falling apart day by day and they couldn’t afford to fix it with money. 

His hands moved to his waist, to one of the coin pouches that hung there, hidden beneath his shirt. Would this be enough to pay the debt and fix up the house? 

Upon reaching the end of the hallway—walking straight past his room—Hector pushed the back door open and walked into the back garden. Large square plant boxes sat on either side of the garden—built by him and his father years ago. Growing in the boxes was Mirae’s pride and joy. Flowers. Tall, beautiful and well cared for. An assortment of vegetables also crowded around the side of the box, placed so they didn’t get in the way of the flowers’ growth—Mirae had her favorites.  

They were the most well kept part of the garden. The rest of the area was in a state of disarray. Piles of junk dotted the area. Scraps of various materials that Hector had collected over the years and forgotten to do something with. 

Hector walked forward, avoiding the scrap and making his way to the shed—a place he’d come to a lot less lately—his workshop. Pushing open the heavy wood door, something he’d felt was necessary at the time to keep in the noise, Hector walked inside and let out a sigh. He grabbed the edge of the door and closed it. Finally, some peace. 

He walked over to the workbench at the side of the room, placed his hands against it and let his weight rest against it. What had happed today? How had today even happened? It was meant to be a quick and simple job, but no. They had almost died. 

He brought one hand up, combing it through his white hair. Hector's gaze moved to the sheds ceiling—cobwebs and mildew mingled—as he thought back on today. There had been so many times that it could have all gone wrong. The Pheonix Company’s Mana Cultivator, the void beasts, the guards chasing Mirae. They had escaped too many close calls. 

“By the Great Lake. What did I get everyone caught up in?” His hand dropped to his side as his gaze wondered around the shed. To the back, several large planks of wood lent against the wall—the dump had been good to him the day he grabbed them. 

Hector absent mindedly walked over to the wood planks, picking one up. He need to process everything, but he also didn’t want to sit and stew. He looked back over to the workbench, to the shelf of equipment hanging just above it. Was everything there? He sure hope so, as he’d rather not leave this shed—he need this time alone. 

He tucked the plank under his arm and made his way back over to the bench. The plank was heavy in his arm and the weight was good. The physical exertion—though not as intense as it would be if he was a mortal—made it so he was at least doing something. 

He rested the wood on the workbench with a soft thump. Dust that had gathered over the last few days scatted in a cloud of smoke as he examined the wood. What could he do with this? He need to fix the gate that was falling apart, but that floor board in his room was also a problem. If he was honest, the list could go on and on. But he only had so much wood—until he went to the dump, anyway. 

The dump. The only legitimate way he had to make money, and something he hadn’t done today. Hector brought a hand to his waist, gripping a pouch and unclasping it. He raised the pouch to his eye as he weighed it in his hand. He’d ruined someone’s day to day—before the void beasts anyway—all for this small pouch of coin. 

Was this all really worth it? 

He shook his head and went to put it back when a knock came from the door. “Son, can we talk for a moment?” Hector’s heart lurched in his chest.