The Novel’s Dad?

I woke up to Leon’s crying, the sound piercing through the stillness of the cave. Groggy, I glanced at the clock. 3 a.m. Great. It was still the dead of night. I dragged myself up and went over to his makeshift crib. “Alright, alright, calm down, buddy,” I muttered as I scooped him up, rocking him gently until his cries softened into sleepy murmurs.

Once he was back asleep, I stretched, trying to shake off the fatigue. Might as well make use of the time, right? I did some quick warm-up exercises—couldn’t let myself get rusty. Then, I headed to the water system I rigged up, filling a barrel with drinkable water. It took longer than I’d like, but having a good supply ready was essential. I wasn’t planning to carry buckets every day.

After that, I prepped a bottle of warm milk for Leon, so it’d be ready for when he woke up again. The moment the last of my chores were done, exhaustion hit me hard. I barely made it back to my bed before I collapsed, and before I knew it, I was out cold again.

Not sure how much longer I could keep up this routine.

I knew I had to return to civilization at some point. The sooner, the better. However, with my great lack of power, that would be quite difficult. I couldn’t really sleep, despite the long, exhausting days I’d been enduring. I tried to close my eyes, but I found myself turning on the cold, hard boulder I called a bed, the chill of the night air cutting through my cloak.

Frustrated, I stood up. It was seven o’clock, and the sky was still that deep shade of purple, caught between night and dawn. I glanced at Leon, sprawled out beside the smoldering remains of last night’s fire, completely oblivious to the world.

“Please don’t burn the cave while I’m gone,” I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to him. “I’ll only be gone for a few minutes.”

I descended the mountain, carefully navigating the loose rocks and overgrown shrubs until I reached the foot. There, as promised, Aunt Marie was waiting, just as she had been every month since our little arrangement began. She stood with her arms crossed, her weathered face looking even more tired than usual. My arrangement with her was purely business. She bought me supplies, and I paid her. It wasn’t a charitable act, and I didn’t want it to be. The fact that her only family was her sick niece didn’t soften the practicality of our deal. I made sure it stayed that way—for her sake.

As I approached, she handed me a plastic bag, her eyes narrowing as she glanced inside.

“I’ve always taken it upon myself to never pry into your past or question your actions, but this one’s too much,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Ginseng? Mushrooms? Herbs? Ash dirt? Dung beetle? A mortar and pestle? A Bunsen burner?!”

I scratched the back of my neck sheepishly. Yeah, I’d really burnt through my funds on this one. The odd ingredients, the tools—everything had a purpose, though explaining that to her would just complicate things.

Without a word, I handed her a plastic bag stuffed with cash. It was enough to cover the supplies and then some. She stared at the money for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line, but she didn’t say anything as she took it.

"I’m not making soup," I muttered, half-joking, trying to lighten the mood.

She gave me a dry smile but didn’t say anything further. I appreciated that. Marie was reliable, and while she never asked too many questions, I could tell she was wondering what a man like me was doing in the mountains, buying up weird things like dung beetles and ginseng.

“You be careful up there,” she said as I took the bag of supplies from her. “This world’s a lot scarier than it used to be.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral, though her words hit harder than she probably realized. The hunter world wasn’t just scary—it was deadly, and I was caught between both that and the mundane life I’d once known.

“I’ll be fine,” I replied, though the confidence in my voice sounded hollow, even to me.

Marie glanced up toward the mountain. “And the boy?”

“He’s tough,” I said, a bit more sure of myself this time. Leon, despite everything, was stronger than he looked. He had to be, growing up in a place like this. But still… I couldn’t shake the worry in the back of my mind.

We exchanged brief goodbyes, and I started the climb back up the mountain, the plastic bag of oddities rustling in my hand. The truth was, I wasn’t even sure if half the stuff I asked for would work. But I had to try. Awakening aura was my only real shot at keeping us safe—if any of this worked.

By the time I reached the cave, Leon was still fast asleep, much to my relief. No fires, no wrecked furniture this time. I placed the bag down and eyed the contents. Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, and the rest of it. It all looked like ingredients for some ancient ritual, not something I’d ever pictured myself dealing with.

I sat down and took a deep breath. I couldn’t stay in hiding forever. Sooner or later, the world would catch up with us. I needed power… but I wasn’t sure I was ready for what came next.

Still, I had no choice.

I laid out the ingredients on the flat rock I’d designated as my worktable. Ginseng, mushrooms, herbs, dung beetles—it all seemed ridiculous. But I knew this concoction had worked in the novel. The antagonist had used it to fake his death so convincingly that even the most skilled hunters had been fooled. If it worked for him, it could work for me.

“It isn’t a surefire method to awaken aura though…”

The process to make the potion was intricate, and while I wasn’t some alchemist or herbalist, I knew enough from the novel to piece together how it should go. The idea was simple—slow the body’s vital signs to the point where I’d appear dead, even to someone who could sense aura. The tricky part was doing it without actually killing myself in the process.

I glanced over at Leon, still peacefully asleep in his crib. My chest tightened with a mix of anxiety and determination. I needed this to work. If I could pull it off, I’d have a way to hide from the hunter world long enough to figure out a real plan. Or at least buy time until Leon could grow stronger.

I started grinding the ingredients together with the mortar and pestle, breaking down the ginseng roots and beetles into a fine paste. The smell was earthy, bitter, and unpleasant, but I pushed through it. Each step had to be exact—too much of one ingredient, and I could end up actually dead. Too little, and the effects would be too weak to fool anyone.

As I added the mushrooms, I couldn’t help but think of how absurd this all was. Here I was, a guy who once had a regular life, grinding up beetles and herbs in a cave to brew a fake-death potion to awaken aura. If I didn’t have a child to protect, I’d almost laugh at how surreal it all felt.

Once the mixture was ready, I set it aside and pulled out the Bunsen burner Marie had gotten for me. It was a crude setup, but it would do. I carefully heated the concoction, stirring it slowly, waiting for the right consistency. The liquid began to bubble slightly, a deep, dark color forming. This was it—the moment of truth.

As I let the potion cool, I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. Was this really going to work? There was no room for error. If I took this and it didn’t work the way I planned, I could be putting Leon at even greater risk.

I glanced back at him again. No turning back now.

Once the potion had cooled enough, I poured it into a small vial and held it up to the dim light filtering into the cave. It looked ominous, but then again, it was supposed to.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. I wasn’t sure how long the effects would last or how convincing they’d be, but I had to try. For Leon’s sake, for my own, this was the best shot I had.

I took a sip, the bitter liquid burning down my throat.

Now, all I could do was wait.

I felt dizzy. My head spun as I tried to focus on the cliff's edge in front of me, the rocky drop beneath casting an intimidating shadow over my thoughts. My heart raced, and doubt clawed at the edges of my mind. I told myself it wouldn’t work—the concoction I’d taken was designed to fake death, not reenact it. There was no real danger. At least, that’s what I kept reminding myself.

But the testimonials I’d read said otherwise. Every account I’d come across mentioned something visceral, something real about the experience. None of them were told what to expect, yet all of them had come back changed, awakened in some way. One conclusion was undeniable—danger was a crucial ingredient for unlocking aura.

I took another unsteady breath, fighting the dizziness as I climbed higher, my eyes scanning the cliff. My contingencies were in place if this went sideways—who would take care of Leon, how Leora would be informed, and the rest. I’d made sure of that, and because of it, I could afford to be reckless.

Still, the thought of leaping to what might be my death made my limbs feel heavier than the rocks beneath my feet. Would the concoction really work the way it was supposed to? It had a hidden healing factor, yes, but it would only activate if my heart stopped beating. That’s the risk—if it stopped.

I took one last deep breath, steadying my nerves. Everyone was afraid of death. Why wouldn’t I be? But fear was exactly what I needed now, wasn’t it? Fear would push me over the edge—literally and figuratively. If I was right, there was no way I wouldn’t awaken my aura after this.

Of course, lingering doubts remained, lurking at the back of my mind like dark shadows.

I pushed them aside.

And I jumped.

The wind rushed up to meet me, cold and biting, tugging at my clothes, my breath catching in my throat. For a split second, I felt weightless, suspended in midair. The ground below grew closer, faster than I expected, and that split second stretched into an eternity.

Then, impact.