Ancestral Lineage-Chapter 287: Blood and Bruises

The training grounds behind the Nexus Citadel were quiet this time of day, touched only by the gentle sound of wind rustling the grass and the distant hum of magic wards thrumming low within the stone walls. But Ethan and Trevor ignored all of that. No magical arrays, no mana in the air, no Grimoire of Order, no Soul Pulse, no fancy techniques.

Just two brothers.

Bare-chested, their breath steaming faintly in the cool Anbordian morning, both men stood in the dirt-ringed circle drawn into the earth. Their knuckles were taped, feet bare, bodies glistening with sweat. The only rules today were those of discipline and instinct.

Trevor bounced on the balls of his feet, his stance loose but watchful. "You sure you wanna go at it like this? Might ruin that pretty face of yours, Your Majesty."

Ethan smirked, brushing a strand of damp hair from his brow. "I've had worse. Besides, you've been mouthing off a little too much lately. Think it's time someone reminded you who's older."

"Oh, please," Trevor scoffed. "By what—three months? You sound like a dad already. Maybe you and Zark really are bonding."

Ethan didn't respond. Instead, he moved — fast, but human fast. A jab. Then another. Testing Trevor's guard.

Trevor blocked both and countered with a low hook toward Ethan's ribs. It connected — a thudding, meaty strike that made Ethan grunt and step back.

"No powers," Trevor reminded.

"I know," Ethan muttered, catching his breath with a grin. "Just haven't felt a hit like that in a while."

"You miss it?" Trevor asked as he advanced again. "The pain, the edge of survival?"

"Sometimes," Ethan replied between blows, dodging a sweep and responding with a solid knee to Trevor's side. "Makes you remember what's real."

The sparring grew more intense — footwork scuffing the dirt, fists flying, muscles working through tension and exhaustion. They weren't trying to kill each other, but there was weight in every strike. A history behind every blow. Each punch was a memory. Each parry, a lesson.

Ethan ducked under a right hook and tackled Trevor to the ground with a thud, the wind rushing from his brother's lungs.

"Gotcha."

Trevor groaned, coughing once, then laughing as he tapped out. "Okay, okay. You win this round, 'big bro'."

Ethan rolled off him, lying in the dirt, chest rising and falling steadily. "You've gotten faster."

"You've gotten heavier," Trevor shot back.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, the sky above them blue and endless.

"Feels good," Trevor said quietly.

"Yeah," Ethan murmured. "It does."

Trevor turned his head slightly. "Do you think we can have this? Peace. Moments like this. Without someone or something trying to take it away?"

Ethan closed his eyes, letting the earth cool his back. "I think… we have to fight for it. But yeah. Maybe not forever. But for now — this is ours."

They said nothing more. Not because there was nothing to say, but because they understood each other perfectly in that silence.

Two brothers.

Two warriors.

Two sons of Fate — but for once, just men.

From the balcony that overlooked the Citadel's training grounds, Madeleine leaned against the marble railing, a thin shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Her crimson hair was tied in a loose braid, but a few strands escaped in the breeze. Beside her stood Zark, silent as ever, his long white hair stirring gently in the wind, arms folded as he observed the two young men lying in the dirt below.

Trevor and Ethan were both staring at the sky, breathing hard, side by side like children who had just wrestled over a toy and ended in laughter.

"They're not boys anymore," Madeleine whispered, voice tinged with emotion. "I missed when they made that change. One moment, Ethan was a clumsy little thing running into my arms, Trevor, I didn't know… and now they're men."

Zark said nothing immediately. His golden eyes were locked on the brothers, thoughtful, patient. "They were forged by fire. Time. Loss. Duty. And yet… they still remember how to smile. That is rare."

Zark said softly. "I've seen gods born in caves and kings die in their sleep. I've witnessed suns collapse and galaxies tear themselves apart in silence. And yet…"

He paused.

"These two," he continued, eyes softening, "they are different. They carry pain like chains, but somehow still choose laughter. Brotherhood. Hope. They are what I… could never be."

Madeleine frowned. "What do you mean?"

Zark looked at her then, his expression unguarded — almost vulnerable. "I was never part of something like that. Not truly. I was made to lead, to destroy, to preserve. But not… to live. Not like them."

She followed his gaze again, watching Ethan nudge Trevor with his elbow, smirking, as Trevor responded with a flick of dirt at his face.

"And now?" she asked.

Zark turned fully to her. "Now… I watch. I learn. I try."

There was silence again, but not empty — it was full. Of meaning. Of unsaid things.

Madeleine chuckled softly, a smile playing at the edge of her lips. "They got their stubbornness from me, you know."

Zark smiled faintly. "And their strength."

She met his gaze, her voice quieter now. "And you gave them their fire. Their determination."

Zark's brow furrowed slightly. "I've given them so little, Madeleine. But I hope… I can give them something now."

"They don't need gifts," she said gently. "They need presence. Stability. A father."

He nodded once, as if committing the word to memory.

Then, from the field, Ethan suddenly shouted, "Hey! Are you two just gonna keep watching or are you planning to join the fun?"

Trevor sat up beside him, waving. "We see you! Don't act like you're invisible!"

Madeleine groaned softly and covered her face with her hand. "Do they ever stop?"

Zark chuckled, the sound rich and rare. "Hopefully not."

Madeleine looked to him, something warm rising behind her eyes. "Come on then, Emissary. Let's go meet our sons."

And with that, they descended together, not as god and ex-princess, but as two imperfect parents trying to be part of the lives they helped create. A life Fate had woven for them.

...

The training yard of the Nexus Citadel lay bathed in morning light. Long shadows stretched across the packed earth as the sun crested the eastern towers, and a cool breeze rolled through the open court, carrying with it the scent of dew and stone.

Zark stood at the center of the ring, tall and steady, arms folded as he glanced from one son to the other. Ethan cracked his neck, shirtless and barefoot, stretching one shoulder. Trevor jogged in place with a cocky grin, fists bouncing lazily.

Madeleine walked in last, adjusting the simple tunic she'd tied off at the waist. Her braid swayed behind her, and the sharp glint in her green eyes promised no mercy.

"Rules are simple," Zark said, voice deep, clear. "No powers. No weapons. No mystical tricks. This is about instinct. Movement. Awareness."

"Strength of the body," Ethan added, nodding.

"And pain tolerance," Trevor said with a wink.

Zark gave a half-smile. "Or foolishness, depending on how long you last."

"Let's begin then," Madeleine said as she stepped forward. "Or are you three scared of getting hit by a woman?"

Trevor raised a brow. "Mother, please. We inherited your fists. If anything, we should be worried for you."

She didn't respond — she lunged.

Trevor yelped as she swept his legs clean from under him. He hit the dirt with a thud and a puff of dust while Ethan laughed aloud.

Zark raised his hand. "Begin."

Ethan darted in toward Madeleine, but she twisted out of the way, elbowed him in the ribs, and ducked as Trevor lunged back in with a wild haymaker. The blow missed, and she rolled low, planting a foot in his gut again.

Zark watched, calm, before finally stepping into the fray.

Trevor, on his knees, looked up. "Oh no."

The Emissary moved with a dancer's grace — no wasted motion. He caught Ethan's jab with one hand and pivoted around him, nudging his son off balance without even using force.

Madeleine came at him next, her movements fluid and fierce, like water laced with blades. Their arms met in a flurry of quick strikes and blocks. Zark didn't overpower her — he matched her tempo exactly, allowing her aggression to shine.

"You're holding back," she muttered between clenched teeth.

"I'm pacing," he replied, ducking under a spinning heel.

Trevor and Ethan came together now, moving in tandem — silent, smooth, a rhythm long practiced. Ethan dropped low while Trevor aimed high, creating a split in focus.

Zark actually chuckled. "Good."

He dropped flat onto the dirt and spun his legs outward, sweeping both sons off their feet. They crashed down beside each other in unison.

"Not good enough," he finished.

All four paused a moment, breathing hard. The sun rose higher. Sweat glistened on the skin. The air felt warmer now, full of exertion and laughter.

Ethan sat up and grinned. "So, this is what family bonding feels like."

Trevor groaned. "Remind me never to bond again."

Madeleine offered both sons a hand, helping them up. Zark remained standing, quiet and content.

For the first time in years — perhaps lifetimes — there was no war to fight, no apocalypse looming. Just dust, discipline, and the quiet promise of something healing in the morning light.

A family—fractured, yet whole.