NOVEL WEB CHAPTER 282: MOTHER'S GIFT
"Kael," the woman called softly, her voice as gentle as a breeze through spring petals, beckoning Greg closer with a gesture full of warmth.
Greg—no, Kael—felt his legs move without his conscious will. His body walked forward like a child returning to his mother's arms after lifetimes apart. Only when he was a meter away did his steps stop.
He stood still, stunned, speechless, unsure whether to speak or remain silent.
"Sit," she instructed kindly.
Without hesitation, a chair made of living flowers bloomed behind him—vines weaving together, petals blooming in a soft floral sigh. Greg sat, obedient, as though under a spell. He wasn't afraid. The sensation was... comfort. A feeling he'd long forgotten.
"You can speak now. I'll hear you," she said. "Even though this is your dream, I'm fully capable of conversing with you."
"How...?" Greg began.
"It's a special trait of our kind," she explained, voice calm but ancient, filled with quiet authority. "We can communicate with those lost through the annals of time—through dreams. Simply put, when you sleep, your subconscious peers through time's fabric and reaches those whose essence you share. In this case, you've found me—your predecessor."
She paused, her eyes gently returning to the infant in her arms.
"So that child in your arms is...?"
"Yes," she replied with a tender smile. "That's Kael... or should I say Greg?"
"...Kael will be fine," Greg muttered, his heart racing with a strange mix of longing and disbelief.
"What were you saying earlier—about gifts? You mentioned giving something to help me?"
"Oh, that." Her expression turned wry. "I gifted some of this world's natives with absolute concepts. It's not much—practically worthless compared to what you'll need to reclaim your throne or avenge your father's death, and... well, my own imminent demise. But it was the best I could do without drawing attention to us."
Greg frowned. "I'm not sure I follow. Those 'gifts' of yours are currently trying to kill me. Doesn't seem like they received the message you intended."
Her brow rose, eyes amused. "Why do you look upset?"
"Because I'm being hunted, that's why!" Greg snapped, his frustration bubbling up. "Your 'gifts' are practically forcing me into hiding. If you ask me, it seems like you miscalculated."
She chuckled softly, unbothered by his tone. "That's the entire point, my dear son. I didn't empower them so they could serve you. They're too weak for that. None of them are worthy to even be your cannon fodder."
Greg blinked. "...Then why give them powers at all?"
"To feed you," she said simply. "So you could devour them. Their concepts, their strength, their essence. Use them as stepping stones. I knew the natives of this world couldn't help but fall into conflict—they always do. It's in their nature. I spread the gifts among them knowing they'd eventually clash. All you had to do was survive and consume their power."
She sighed. "But I underestimated their lust for bloodshed. In the end, only thirteen remain for you to devour."
Greg rubbed his forehead, pain throbbing in his temples. "That just makes things worse. I can't even beat one of them, and you're telling me I'm supposed to consume them all?"
She tilted her head, concern flickering in her gaze. "That... shouldn't be the case. Unless..." She paused, her face darkening. "Of course. It's the soul split. Splitting your soul must have drastically reduced your raw talent. Or perhaps it's the locked bloodline. It seems your abilities have been shackled. Sigh... your father—just how many limits did he place on you?"
Greg gave a mental cheer that the man was already dead. If he weren't, his mother would've probably killed him herself.
"Well," she muttered, rubbing her temples. "I suppose this is your father's twisted way of 'testing' you. He'd say, 'If my son is to rule all entities, he must earn it. If he cannot, let him perish in obscurity like a nobody.' Hah! That man will be the death of me."
Greg stared, dumbfounded. "Wait... you said something about splitting my soul earlier. Was that... you?"
"Of course," she said. "No one else could split the soul of a legend without shattering it completely."
"But why?"
"To buy you time—and increase your odds of survival. Two minds, two lives. While you face your enemies head-on, the other part of your soul grows quietly elsewhere, unnoticed. And if you ever truly die... the other can pull your essence back. Merge you again. Consider it an extra life. A mother's gift."
Greg swallowed, speechless.
"I wish we could talk more," she said gently. "Tell you everything—about your enemies, your allies, the war to come. But our time is up. Just know this—I'm always watching, always guiding, even if from afar. And this second gift... it's my apology, for letting you grow up without me."
She leaned down, brushing the child's hair.
"Goodbye, Kael."
"Wait, I still have—" Greg began, reaching toward her—
But the dream shattered.
---
Awakening
"—Huh?" Greg jerked upright mid-air, wind rushing past him.
He was still flying.
"I... fell asleep while flying?" he murmured, disoriented but slowly regaining clarity.
His heart raced. His thoughts spun. But the memory of her—his mother—remained vivid, etched into his soul.
Then came the system prompt.
---
[Congratulations!]
[Your Concept: DEATH has evolved to Absolute Concept through the intervention of an unknown force.]
[Evolve it to LAW to reveal the true nature of your talent.]
---
Greg froze mid-flight, blinking in shock.
"My concept evolved... again?"
This was insane. DEATH had started as a mere F-rank talent. It had become EX-rank after he died. Then, without clear reason, it evolved into a Concept. Now, it had advanced to an Absolute Concept?
And with no effort?
But deep down, Greg suspected the truth: this wasn't evolution... it was liberation. The restrictions on his power were slowly being undone. The first death had kickstarted the process, but now his mother was clearly helping from the shadows.
He hadn't grown into DEATH—it was returning to him.
If he did nothing and lazed around for centuries, it would still evolve. The only requirement had been activating it once. That first spark.
Now, the fire had been lit.
"Let's test this properly," Greg said, his wings flaring out behind him. His speed increased as he soared toward his destination.
His mission was clear: destroy the shadow slaves. Then... take down the "gifts" his mother had left him. With this new power, he was confident—almost cocky—that he could win.
"There," he muttered, spotting a battleground in the distance.
A group of players was surrounded, desperately fending off advancing shadow slaves.
Greg didn't hesitate.
---
BOOM!
He landed like a meteor, the impact cracking the ground beneath him. Dust flew into the air. The shadow slaves and players turned, startled by the sudden arrival of a new force.
Greg stood tall, the aura of death beginning to emanate from his body like a storm on the horizon.