Chapter 98: — Emily Thoughts.

Emily kept her expression carefully neutral, a mask of maternal sternness that hid the internal shock rattling her composure.

To a casual observer, Kael’s performance had been mediocre, but to her—a veteran of countless campaigns and a master of the arcane—it was nothing short of extraordinary.

Two things burned in her mind. First was his mana regeneration. She knew better than anyone that a mage at Kael’s level should have been crippled by exhaustion for at least an hour after such a violent expenditure.

Yet, here he was, fully recovered in a mere fifteen minutes. Second was the sheer volume of his output.

To force such rapid growth in a sapling, even with his sloppy control, required a reserve that defied the standards of his age.

Her mind drifted back to the sudden forest growth on the outskirts of Korua. She had been away when it happened, but the moment she returned, the connection had struck her. It had to be him.

But the mystery still clawed at her. When she had investigated the forest, the lingering aura had been unmistakable: a faint, sickening trace of demonic energy woven into the life force of the trees.

Yet, whenever she probed Kael’s core, she found nothing but pure, unadulterated mana. It was a contradiction that made her skin crawl.

She watched Kael focus on the second sapling, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The Wilders were fools, blundering about looking for political leverage, completely oblivious to the real danger.

They didn’t know why the Royal Court was truly terrified. Someone—some unknown agent in this town—had been sensitive enough to detect that demonic taint and had reported it directly to the capital.

Demons were the universal nightmare. No kingdom, no race—be it human, elf, or beastman—could ignore a demonic presence. It was a plague that demanded immediate eradication.

If they ever find out the source is him, Emily thought, her gaze sharpening, I will have to burn this entire town to the ground to keep him safe.

She didn’t let that thought darken her face. Instead, she adjusted her posture, her eyes tracking the way Kael’s mana flowed.

The fact that the Royal Court had dispatched Jacob Wilder—the head of the second branch—showed just how high the stakes were.

They were looking for an executioner, not a researcher.

Thirty minutes of grueling, precise focus had passed when Kael finally exhaled, his hands trembling.

He pulled back, his mana reserves completely tapped, but the sight before him made his heart swell with pride. The second sapling had transformed; it was now a sturdy, sapling-sized tree, roughly twice his own height, with thick branches and vibrant, healthy leaves.

“Haha!” Kael let out a tired, breathless laugh of triumph, his face lighting up with genuine joy. “I did it.”

The laughter died in his throat as the world suddenly tilted. A wave of overwhelming exhaustion slammed into his brain like a physical blow.

Darkness encroached at the edges of his vision, and his knees gave out. He felt himself pitching forward toward the dirt, but before he could hit the ground, a pair of gentle, firm hands caught him.

Emily eased him down, cradling his head and resting it softly on her lap. She looked down at him, her usual composure stripped away to reveal a look of pure, unadulterated delight.

She began to comb her fingers through his long, green hair, her touch light and rhythmic.

A smile—a genuine, radiant smile like that of a young, carefree girl—blossomed on her face.

“At last,” she whispered to the unconscious boy, her voice filled with a mixture of pride and possessiveness. “I have finally found someone truly worth training. And what could be better? He is my own flesh and blood.”

Kael lay there in the deep, heavy silence of his mana-depleted sleep, blissfully unaware of the intensity in her eyes or the mesmerizing, dangerous smile she wore.

He had pushed himself to the brink, and in his exhaustion, he remained blind to the fact that he hadn’t just impressed a teacher—he had captured the undivided attention of a woman who was now fully committed to sculpting him into something far greater than he had ever imagined.

Emily’s fingers continued to drift through Kael’s green locks, her touch lingering with a softness she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in decades.

The garden was silent, save for the rhythmic rustle of the leaves on the tree Kael had just manifested.

Her life had been a long, bitter road of ambition turned to ash.

When her husband fell on the frontlines, she had poured every ounce of her remaining strength into Jeff, her son.

He had been her masterpiece, a water mage with the same raw, terrifying potential that had once made her the terror of the empire’s enemies.

But fate, cruel and mocking, had ripped that dream away in a senseless accident. When he died, the light in Emily’s world had dimmed.

She had watched her grandchildrens grow up as commoners, keeping her own dark arts locked away in a rusty cage, merely waiting for the time when she could fade into the shadows as a nomad.

But today, the cycle of disappointment had been broken.

She looked down at Kael’s sleeping face, her heart swelling with a fierce, possessive warmth. It didn’t matter that the blood in his veins wasn’t her’s.

She had raised him, fed him, and poured her own essence into his upbringing. He was hers in every way that counted.

“Haha,” she chuckled softly, her voice a low, melodic sound in the quiet courtyard.

“Poor, foolish boy. He doesn’t even understand the first rule of being a mage—a mage must never run their core dry. It’s a death sentence in a real fight, and yet, he’s managed to do it twice today.”

Her eyes glinted with a terrifying, beautiful ambition. She leaned down, pressing a light, lingering kiss to his lips.

“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed, do you?” she whispered, her voice tightening with resolve.

“You have the capacity to drain, to create, and to recover that I haven’t seen in a century. If I sharpen you, if I mold you…”

She traced the line of his jaw, her smile widening.

“You won’t just surpass me. You will become the apex of this world, and I will be the one standing behind you, guiding every strike, every breath, and every drop of blood you shed. My dream didn’t die with Your father; it was just waiting for a better vessel.”

She smoothed his hair one last time, her expression shifting back into the calm, authoritative mask of the woman who had crushed the Wilder men’s arms without a second thought.

The training was no longer a game, and the boundaries they had crossed in the water were only the beginning. He was her grandson, her student, and now, her absolute project.