Chapter 19: Father, Please Make a Sacrifice for the Sake of This Family

“Enough, enough, rest now. It’s still early before dawn, and I’m gradually gaining the ability to meet my brothers in dreams,” Aaron said, glancing at his father, who was sound asleep and completely unresponsive. He wondered what kind of dreams the old man might be having.

Malum spoke quietly, “If you see my father, please tell him all is well.”

Aaron grinned, “Of course. I also want to ask if my beast-skin skirt fits Kiliman properly.”

With that, he lay down to rest, hoping for a good sleep.

Perhaps it was this thought that led him, upon opening his eyes again, to find himself in a grand stone hall. It wasn’t gilded or ostentatious, but the stonework was far from crude. Each stone was sculpted into exquisite, lifelike figures.

A towering figure with cropped blond hair was hidden in the central bath of the hall, shrouded by rising mist.

Aaron felt a burning sensation in his feet and, observing the nearly boiling hot spring, exclaimed in surprise, “Is this water already boiling?”

A weary voice responded, “Aaron, or perhaps I should call you brother. Please wait a moment.”

Kiliman rose from the bath and clapped his hands. The clicking of mechanisms echoed as some switches were activated. Fresh water rushed in, cooling the bath to a comfortable temperature.

“Come in, brother. Over all these years, you’re only the fifth sibling to share this bath with me.”

Kiliman wore the beast-skin skirt, now stretched perfectly to fit his original body.

Aaron thought to himself that this brother was easy to talk to—a good brother indeed.

He cheered as he jumped into the bath, feeling the soul-refreshing warmth and fully relaxing. When he swam over to Kiliman, he finally saw a face that was youthful and perfect, yet with eyes that bore a tangible weariness.

“Hey, Kiliman, is something troubling you? You look so tired. Come on, it’s rest time—don’t think about anything.”

Kiliman nodded slightly and lay back in the bath again. He rested his arm on the wall, while Aaron flailed like a fish in water, still trying to find his balance.

Kiliman gazed at his brother calmly and said, “I’m aware of the communications between Malum and Kaol. It seems our father from forty thousand years ago was not so bad.”

Aaron immediately choked, accidentally swallowing some water and coughing violently.

“Not so bad? Good heavens! How did he manage to raise you brothers afterward? You think he was ‘not so bad’ when he raised me?”

He gritted his teeth, as if trying to tear that old man apart with his words.

Kiliman pondered, uncertain how to respond, and finally said, “At least Father kept you close and raised you himself.”

Exactly as Father had said. He thought that just leaving his son nearby to grow up was fulfilling his duty.

Nonsense!

After Mother left, the whole family’s food and clothing expenses were handled by myself!

From Kiliman’s words, Aaron drew grim conclusions.

“So... my younger brothers after me weren’t even kept close by that old man?”

“And when you grew up, he caused you all kinds of trouble and hid from sight!”

Kiliman was stunned, wanting to explain but unsure what to say.

“It’s not... that bad. Actually, maybe it’s much worse than you think.”

He couldn’t lie against his conscience.

“Fine, Father is a bastard.”

Kiliman lowered his head, uncertain if the father now seated on the Golden Throne would ever hear those words.

Aaron was quite pleased and leaned on Kiliman’s shoulder.

Though this was their first proper meeting, it felt as if they had already accepted each other as family, with no barriers between them.

He spoke, “That’s more like it. I have a plan—we find a chance to beat him up, alright? If my brothers are all giants like you, we can definitely knock that hunchbacked old man flat!”

Kiliman’s expression grew uneasy, lips trembling—more than when he had once scolded Forgrym.

“T-That’s unnecessary. Enough, Aaron, I have a gift for you.”

Kiliman stood again, trying to deflect the topic.

He left the hall and shortly returned, carrying a robe of white and blue with an olive wreath.

“This is traditional attire from my homeland, Makurag. It shouldn’t look too out of place in your time. Brother, may you live a wonderful life.”

Kiliman’s tone was solemn, which made Aaron realize that his brother had already died long ago, while they were still alive.

He climbed out of the bath and tiptoed to take the robe, putting on a cheerful facade.

“Ah, though we can’t meet in reality, and I died before you were born, meeting in dreams is still a family reunion.”

“Brother loves you.”

Kiliman half-kneeling, embraced him.

It was the first time in history a brother had openly shown such affection to their original self.

Disregard the times when Luth got drunk and vomited in his own bath with Ryan.

“Thank you, brother.”

Aaron began to fade, about to awaken.

“O-Oh, one last thing—if your sons are those Heavenly Palace guardians, teach them to be clever with their words! Sometimes when Malum speaks, Father gets angry and curses your name too.”

He hurriedly reminded before vanishing.

When Aaron awoke again, he was cloaked in the robe Kiliman had given him, sunlight pouring through the window outside.

His father, however, was clutching his hair and wailing, “Don’t go exchanging future things without ceremony! You two little bastards, unfilial sons!”

Apparently, receiving Kiliman’s robe without proper exchange had caused damage to Father’s hair.

Staring at his father’s furious gaze, Aaron retorted firmly, “The love I received from Kiliman far surpasses yours! What’s wrong with a brother giving a robe to his brother? It’s better than making me wear beast skins all my life!”

“Honestly, for the sake of our brotherhood and this family, you could at least make some sacrifices. That would be fulfilling your duty as a father!”

Andar held his head in anger, “You fool, you don’t know how precious that beast-skin skirt is! Malum, hold him down, I’m going to beat his ass!”

Malum could only tremble and kneel, yet he looked enviously at Aaron’s robe.

That Makurag-style robe and wreath were exactly the kind the original self had worn as a child.

It was even recorded in the historical archives of Ultramar.

Andar ranted for a while before realizing Malum was just kneeling motionless, and then glared at his son’s wings as if they dared to provoke him.

Finally, he sat back, holding his breath, “You little bastard. If Old Mal were here, he wouldn’t go easy on my son at all.”

“When those jailers arrive, be smart. We need to find clues about that war demon. Family matters can wait.”

Aaron, for the first time seeing his father get bested, excitedly said, “Hunting demons? I’m looking forward to smashing those bad guys to pieces!”

Andar merely comforted his scalp. No real damage, just a bit of pain from hair being pulled.

Erda used to pull his hair too, urging him to hurry up and satisfy her hunger.

Well, she meant hurry up with the cooking.

How had he fallen to such a state forty thousand years later?