Trafalgar gave his arm one last glance, adjusting his sleeve just above the elbow. He exhaled slowly and turned toward Barth, his tone calm but sharp.

"Second part of the plan, ready, Barth?"

Barth jumped at the question, clutching his notebook so tightly his knuckles whitened. "R-ready!"

A faint grin crossed Trafalgar's face. "Good. When we get out of here, I'll give you your reward."

Barth nodded nervously, swallowing hard. "O-okay…"

The faint sound of shifting fabric broke the silence — the Myrrhvale guard was waking up. His scaled arms twitched, and a low groan escaped his throat. Barth froze like a statue, his eyes wide. Trafalgar, in contrast, looked perfectly composed.

"Remember," Trafalgar whispered under his breath, "he fainted, we panicked, but stayed. Don't overact — just sound scared."

"I—I'll try!" Barth whispered back, nearly trembling.

The guard's eyes blinked open. He blinked twice, dazed, and sat up with a quiet grunt. Barth sprang into action instantly. "T-thank the gods, you're awake! You—you scared us! You just fell out of nowhere!"

The guard rubbed his head, confused. "I… fainted?"

Trafalgar crouched slightly, keeping his tone smooth. "Yeah. You went down hard. I wanted to go for help, but these tunnels are massive. Didn't want to get lost or cause trouble."

Barth nodded quickly, stammering, "Y-yeah! We—we just waited! I didn't know what to do!"

The guard groaned again and muttered, "Must've been tired… happens sometimes down here because of all the work."

Trafalgar gave a slow nod. "Makes sense. These ruins suck the mana right out of you." He stood up straight, offering a hand. "You good to stand?"

The guard took it, still unsteady. "Yeah… I think so."

Trafalgar's eyes briefly met Barth's — both of them sharing the same thought.

'It worked.'

The three of them walked through the narrow corridor, the echo of their footsteps bouncing softly off the ancient stone. The guard led the way, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly still disoriented. Barth kept his head down, clutching his notebook tightly as if afraid to meet anyone's eyes. Trafalgar followed a few steps behind, calm but alert — his mind already somewhere else.

After a few minutes, Trafalgar broke the silence. "How long was I gone?"

Barth blinked, thinking. "Uh… maybe eight minutes? Nine, tops."

"Good," Trafalgar said quietly, his gaze distant. "That's faster than I thought."

The guard glanced back at them, his voice rough. "Thank you. I didn't expect this to happen to me, and also for not causing any problems while I was unconscious."

Trafalgar offered a polite half-smile. "Don't worry, you're probably tired from working here."

As the guard turned forward again, Trafalgar's expression shifted — calm on the surface, but his mind was racing. He took a slow breath and whispered under it, "Status."

A faint blue flicker appeared before his eyes.

[You obtained: Armor of the Unborn Star – Unique]

Forged by the Primordial Mother. A gift for her unborn child.

Effects:

– Automatically negates one critical hit. (Can recover after a set cooldown period.)

– Reduces all incoming damage by 20%.

– Passive: Primordial Dread – Void Creatures instinctively fear your presence and hesitate to approach.

Trafalgar's eyes widened just slightly. His steps slowed for a moment as he read the description again and again.

'Forged by the Primordial Mother… A gift for her unborn child.'

His jaw tightened, the faintest hint of unease creeping across his face. 'No way. That can't mean me… right?'

The guard's voice cut through his thoughts. "We're almost there."

Trafalgar blinked, forcing a neutral expression again. "Yeah. Lead the way."

Inside, though, his mind was anything but calm. 'The hell kind of "gift" is this…? I mean it is an OP one indeed but what the hell…'

They finally reached the open chamber where the rest of the students were gathered. The air was filled with murmurs. Rhaldrin was in the middle of explaining something, his small figure animated as he gestured toward a mural that stretched along the southern wall.

The Myrrhvale guard who had escorted them stopped at the edge of the group, straightening his posture. Another guard — the same scaled bastard who had struck the little girl days earlier — was waiting there, arms crossed. His cold eyes swept over Trafalgar and Barth immediately.

"You took your time," he said, his tone sharp. "I was about to send someone to drag you back."

The escort bowed slightly. "They're fine. The younger one here panicked when I fainted."

"You fainted?" he asked flatly. Then, after a short pause, he added, "Try not to wander again, Lord Morgain. These ruins are fragile—and valuable."

Trafalgar forced a thin, polite smile. "It was an emergency, you can go check the bathroom although I don't recommend going in yet."

The guard grunted something under his breath, then turned his attention back to the rest of the group. Rhaldrin, still absorbed in his explanation, gave Trafalgar and Barth a quick look but said nothing.

Zafira, however, caught sight of them the moment they stepped back in. Her sharp violet eyes locked on Trafalgar, narrowing slightly. He looked different — pale, a faint sheen of sweat across his forehead, and a streak of dried blood half-hidden under his sleeve.

She said nothing, but her gaze lingered, silently asking the question he didn't intend to answer.

Trafalgar noticed and gave a faint smirk, as if to say "I'm fine."

Zafira didn't look convinced. She turned away, but her expression stayed tense.

Barth kept quiet beside Trafalgar, his hands trembling slightly. He knew something had happened — something big — but he also knew better than to speak of it here.

Rhaldrin's lecture carried on for a while longer, his voice echoing softly across the metallic chamber. Most of the students were captivated by his explanation of the runes and ancient mana conduits, but Trafalgar barely heard a word. His focus drifted, his mind replaying what he'd seen in that hidden room—the shard, the pain, and the text that appeared afterward.

He slipped to the back of the group, pretending to take notes while his thoughts spiraled. 'Forged by the Primordial Mother. A gift for her unborn child.'

That line wouldn't leave his head.

'If that was really meant for me… does that mean that my mother is alive?'

He clenched his fist, and invoked his status window again.

[Host: Trafalgar du Morgain]

[Title: Cursed Heir]

[Age: 16]

[Race: Half-Human / Half-Primordial]

[Bloodline: Primordial Being]

[Core: Pulse]

[Class: Swordsman / Riftspawn]

[Talent: SSS]

[Abilities: Arc Slash (Lv.2) – Common, Severing Fang (Lv.1) – Rare, Severance Step (Lv.1) – Epic, Morgain's Requiem – Unique, Morgain's Final Crescent – Unique, Primordial Body (Lv.Max), Sword Insight (Lv.Max), Riftborn Feast (Lv.Max), Morgain Blade (Lv.2)]

[Items: Shadowlink Echo – Rare, Shadowhide Leather Armor – Rare, Maledicta – Common, Oathbinder – Legendary, Leather Undersuit – Uncommon, Blazewick Torch – Common, Widow's Whisper – Rare, Nightpiercer – Epic, Armor of the Unborn Star – Unique]

He still hadn't equipped it. He didn't even know what it looked like. But the description alone was enough to twist something deep in his gut.

Rhaldrin's voice rose again. "You may observe freely for the next twenty minutes. Stay within the marked lines. I don't want anyone wandering around."

As the group dispersed, Trafalgar's gaze remained distant. 'At least I know something more from this. That probably my mother is alive, and she is somewhere, I suppose I need to ask Valttair about this since I know something, but if this is the case, Valttair should have known that my mother is a Primordial… or did he not? Is he even Trafalgar's true father? The second awakening gave me some other stuff different from Valttair's.'

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