CHAPTER 81: CHAPTER: 81 ONLY HE IS WORTHY OF BEING MY BROTHER.

"What do you mean you’ll know soon?" his mother asked, her face full of worry. "Are you going to do something risky?"

Vivian shook his head quickly. "No, I won’t do anything risky. After my midterm exams are over, I’ll tell you everything."

He couldn’t tell her what he was planning, not now.

If she knew, she might try to stop him, or worse, get involved herself.

The thought alone made him uneasy.

Trying to change the topic, he looked toward his father.

"Father... though the curse is cured," he paused, unsure if he should continue.

For a moment he hesitated, his lips pressed tight.

But when he met his father’s calm gaze, he finally spoke. "There’s a side effect."

"Side effect?" his mother repeated, alarmed.

Her voice trembled a little. "Is it some kind of illness? Like that curse?"

His father’s eyes narrowed slightly, and even his grandfather leaned forward, all waiting for his answer.

Vivian shook his head again.

"No. It’s not an illness. It’s not really a side effect either. If anything..."

He looked down at his hands, his tone soft but certain. "It’s like an ability I gained."

A heavy silence followed his words.

His mother looked confused, his father thoughtful.

His grandfather’s eyes, however, held a strange spark of interest, as if he understood something the others didn’t.

"What kind of ability, Vivian?" his father asked, his voice calm but carrying quiet weight.

Vivian thought for a moment, then glanced at Charlotte.

She met his eyes and gave a slight nod, as if saying it was fine to show them.

He sighed softly. "It’ll be faster if I show you," he said.

Closing his eyes, he focused.

A faint tremor ran across his forehead, and then, slowly, two long pitch-black horns began to emerge.

They curved upward and back, ending just above his ears.

His ears sharpened too, stretching into slender, pointed tips.

His family watched in stunned silence as his hair grew longer, dark and shimmering like flowing shadows.

And thin black scales began to form along it, running down until they stopped at his waist.

The air around him seemed to grow heavier, charged with an otherworldly pressure.

Everyone froze.

Their eyes widened, their faces pale with shock.

For several long seconds, no one spoke.

Then, suddenly—"Wow..." Edward’s voice broke the silence.

His expression was one of pure amazement, eyes shining as he leaned forward. "Brother, how did you get those?!"

His innocent wonder seemed to melt the tension in the room, even if just a little.

"Can I grow horns too?" Edward asked eagerly, his eyes wide with excitement.

Then, in a pleading tone, he added, "Please, brother, I want those too!"

Vivian couldn’t help but smile at his little brother’s innocent wish.

He reached out and gently patted Edward’s head.

"You’ll have to reach the fifth star before you turn fifteen," he said with a teasing grin, "and you’ll need to get permission from Mother first."

Edward’s eyes lit up.

To him, reaching the fifth star didn’t sound difficult at all, or so he believed.

He turned toward his mother with hopeful eyes that sparkled like tiny stars. "Mom, can I get those too? Please?"

That finally snapped her out of her shock.

"Absolutely not!" she said sharply, her voice firm.

"And what’s with that long hair?" She pointed at Vivian, her expression shifting from fear to irritation. "Cut it short right now!"

Vivian looked helpless as he said, "Mom, they can’t be cut."

To prove his point, he stretched out a strand of his hair and tugged on it.

The strands didn’t budge at all, they were tough and unyielding, giving off a faint metallic sound when he flicked them.

"See?" he said, a little awkwardly.

His mother didn’t seem convinced.

She stood up and walked over to him, reaching out to touch the dark scales that covered the long strands.

Her brows furrowed as she tried to pull them, only to find they were as hard as steel.

A deep frown formed on her face. "This... isn’t normal," she murmured under her breath.

Vivian could only sigh, shoulders relaxing a little.

He had expected worse, screaming, panic, maybe even fear, but instead, there was just disbelief and concern.

Still, deep down, he couldn’t help but think how dangerous his appearance looked now.

With the horns, the long black scale like hair, and the inhuman sharpness of his features, he knew exactly what he resembled.

A demon.

Breaking through Vivian’s thoughts, his father spoke. "Earlier, you said you have an ability. What is it exactly?"

Vivian looked calm, almost too calm.

"It’s nothing much," he began lightly, "but I can sense life-threatening danger through instinct."

"My body’s also about twice as strong as before, and when I use this form, it becomes about four times stronger."

He said it so casually, it almost sounded like he was describing what he had for lunch.

His father and grandfather, however, both froze, their jaws dropping open at the same time.

"Four times stronger?" they echoed in disbelief. "What the—?"

His father’s eyes widened as he leaned forward, clearly shaken.

"And you’re saying that so casually? Do you even understand what that means, Vivian?"

"Having a body four times stronger than normal in battle means you could channel all elements directly through your body, you wouldn’t even need a medium!"

He gave a hollow, almost disbelieving laugh as he sank back into his seat, trying to process what he’d just heard.

His grandfather’s reaction wasn’t much different; the old man’s eyes were filled with astonishment, his mind clearly running through the implications.

Meanwhile, Vivian’s mother only sighed softly, shaking her head.

To her, all this talk about strength and abilities didn’t matter much.

As long as both her sons were safe and sound, that was enough.

Then, all of a sudden, as if something had just clicked in his mind, his grandfather leaned forward.

"Earlier, I couldn’t ask this," he said slowly, eyes narrowing with curiosity, "but how many elements did you get?"

It was the same question his father had been meaning to ask but had completely forgotten in all the chaos.

He turned to Vivian, just as eager for the answer.

"Usually," his grandfather continued, "a five-star warrior gains a few elements they can control through a medium, like their weapon. So?"

Vivian’s lips curved into a teasing smirk. "How many do you think I got, old man?"

His grandfather paused, stroking his beard as he thought it over.

Given Vivian’s talent, and the strange transformation they’d just witnessed, he hesitated before answering.

"Four... maybe five?" he said, his tone uncertain but hopeful.

Vivian’s smirk only deepened, his blue eyes glinting faintly.

It was clear from his expression that the answer would be far beyond what any of them expected.

But Vivian didn’t answer outright.

Instead, he lifted his hand slowly and said one word.

"Fire."

In an instant, a flame flickered to life on his palm, burning bright and steady.

Then he spoke again. "Wind."

The fire vanished, replaced by swirling currents of air that danced around his fingers.

"Light."

A soft glow spread across his hand, pure and golden.

One by one, he named them all, water, earth, lightning, dark, and each time, the element formed perfectly, shifting seamlessly from one to the next, until his entire hand shimmered with layers of light, flame, wind, and darkness, all blending into one another.

His father and grandfather both drew sharp breaths, eyes wide, before bursting into wild laughter.

Their excitement filled the room, half disbelief, half pride.

"All of them! He has all of them!" his grandfather roared, the joy in his voice echoing off the walls.

Meanwhile, Edward stood frozen, staring at his brother with shining eyes.

His heart thumped faster and faster as awe turned into something deeper, admiration mixed with fierce pride.

’That’s my brother,’ he thought. ’Only he is worthy of being my brother.’

A faint smile touched his lips as a quiet fire burned in his chest.

He clenched his fists tightly, his thoughts blazing.

’Only he can wield me as a sword, to conquer everything.’

Edward was never someone who felt jealousy or envy toward his brother.

If anything, he wanted Vivian to be better, stronger, greater, at everything.

No matter how hard he tried, he could never surpass him, and strangely, he didn’t want to.

To Edward, that was how it should be.

His brother would stand above all, and he would become the sword that served him.

That belief had guided him for as long as he could remember.

It was why he trained harder than anyone else in the estate, why he pushed his body and mind beyond exhaustion, so that one day, he could be useful to his brother.

And now, seeing Vivian’s power with his own eyes, that resolve only grew stronger.

His small hands clenched into fists, his heart burning with determination.

’I won’t fall behind,’ he thought. ’I’ll train all day if I have to. I’ll become strong enough to be the sword my brother can rely on.’

There was no bitterness in his eyes, only admiration and purpose, pure and unwavering.

At that moment, Vivian’s gaze drifted toward his little brother.

He noticed the way Edward’s small fists were clenched tight, his eyes shining with determination and admiration.

Something about that look struck deep within him.

A faint wave of nostalgia washed over Vivian’s heart, an old, familiar feeling that he couldn’t quite name.