Bound by the king of destruction

We walked farther down Lumi Street.

The houses were scattered in neat columns, but the noise was relentless. Loud music thumped from somewhere; dogs barked in shrill bursts. Parents argued in half-open doorways while kids banged on makeshift drums. From some porches, people sat in groups, swapping stories with booming laughter that spilled into the street like a party no one had invited us to.

It was all deeply irritating to Van.

"Be careful, Van. This street is occupied by Exo-hunters," I warned, my eyes darting to every shadowed corner.

Van's shoulders tensed. He glanced at the windows and half-open doors. "They give me chills. You mean… everyone here is an Exo-hunter?"

"Umm…" I nodded.

Even while they laughed and argued among themselves, I could see their senses at work, razor-sharp. Their eyes made subtle shifts, quick glances to the corners, as if sending silent signals.

They'd already picked up on the presence of a stranger.

---

Luckily, each house had a surname painted beside its door. After a few short rows, I paused.

"Van, I really don't remember the way. What was Grandma's surname again?"

"Silverblade," he replied instantly.

"Oh… yeah."

We stopped at a modest door with 'Silverblade' etched beside it.

Van started to mutter a warning, something about not knocking yet but I didn't see the point and knocked anyway.

But not even a sound came from inside.

I knocked again.

This time, the door creaked open halfway, and the first thing that greeted me was—

CLANG!

A frying pan, swinging like a weapon of divine judgment, slammed into my face.

This is how people from the city welcome guests?

"Who are you?" a voice barked from inside, without even checking who it was.

"Ahh… Fiel," I said, unsure if it was the right answer.

"And who the heck is Fiel!?" the voice snapped. Another frying pan was already arcing toward me.

I froze, shoulders tightening.

Oh boy… I forgot Grandma calls me Little Ash. So much for wanting to surprise her.

"Fiel Ashenhive," I blurted.

Before the second frying pan could land, Van phased through my body, shoving his head in the way.

CLANG!

The pan slammed into his skull and ricocheted like a bullet, smashing into the door. The shockwave flung the one holding it back into a pile of furniture with a spectacular crash.

…Yep. Definitely not the warm welcome I pictured.

"I have no idea what you just did, Van," I muttered, "but I'm certain we won't be eating for three days after this."

"I only reflected the force," Van grumbled, rubbing his head. "Strange, the first hit didn't send you flying."

"Was it supposed to?" I asked as I slowly pushed the door open.

Inside, a young woman groaned as she sat up amidst broken furniture. "What the heck?!" she muttered.

She looked way too young to be my grandma, but… she resembled her.

She stood, brushing debris from her clothes. "I feel like I just got hit by a train," she whispered, stunned.

She rubbed her forehead, her golden eyes narrowing on me. "You said… Ashenhive!?"

I nodded slowly, unsure whether to raise my hands or duck again.

She froze, processing, then suddenly snapped out of it.

"Wait, you can't be serious. My Little Ash?"

"Umm…" I nodded again.

She darted forward and wrapped me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe.

"When did you come back? No, how did you come back?"

"I got a letter from the academy, letting me enroll," I explained.

"Wilson Castalis…?"

I nodded.

Then she turned toward the hallway, voice sharp but oddly calm.

"Clara! You better get out here. Your old buddy just showed up after three years!"

Grandma's golden eyes gleamed faintly as she adjusted her loose ponytail, brushing a strand of white hair over her shoulder. Her plain shirt and jeans made her look even younger, like she'd shed years.

Then she caught me staring.

"What? Surprised to see your grandma looking this fabulous?" she teased with a smirk.

I wasn't about to let something slip.

"More like, confused," I muttered. "You look… younger."

She grinned with an expression that screamed, 'are you curious.' She pointed at her neck. "Look."

I leaned closer and saw it, two shards. One marked with a zero, and the other swirling with smoke. An Age Shard and a Wind Shard.

She could alter her appearance.

"Two shards? I remember you having only the Wind Shard."

Her grin thinned. "Well, it's not impossible to get a second one," she said, her tone dropping. "But it's not something you just pick up at the store, it's a risky ritual."

Before I could ask, something soft padded toward us. A cat, small, trembling in fear.

Her voice shifted sharp as a blade. "First, let's talk about the real issue. You showed up unannounced. You knocked me off my feet. And you destroyed my furniture on top of it? That's three strikes. You're paying for the damage—one way or another."

Oh boy… Now she's mad.

The moment Van heard the word pay, he vanished, reappearing lazily on the roof outside, pretending not to be involved.

She rubbed her forehead with a sigh. "Seriously, what's your skull made of? That pan ricocheted back at me!"

I can't tell her it was Van.

"Grandma… we're kinda tired. And hungry too. Can I sit down first?"

"Well, I don't have any furniture left," she said with a smirk. "Guess you'll have to sit on the floor."

We sat around a low table, the house's serene open layout reminding me of a traditional Japanese home.

She narrowed her eyes suddenly. "Wait. You said we?"

I blinked.

So, she didn't even notice Van.

"Yeah. I came with… with… um, a friend."

"You mean that ghost friend of yours." Her voice dropped low, all seriousness.

I let out a dry laugh. "Yeah. Although he now claims to be a spirit."

"I believe him," she said, settling into her seat. "After all, you've been together for six years."

I tilted my head. "But… doesn't evolution happen both ways?"

"Yeah…" she muttered. Then her gaze flicked to the broken furniture. "But I wouldn't be surprised if it didn't apply to you. The fact that you can't die no matter the cause, then it's possible you can't become a demon. Even if your soul gets corrupted several times."