NOVPUBEthan extended his soul sense, sweeping through the area—yet he found nothing.
A deep unease settled in his chest.
Just as he considered retreating, the old man spoke again.
"Come closer."
His voice was calm, devoid of any anger.
Ethan had spent the last few minutes insulting him over and over, calling him an old bastard at every turn, yet the man hadn't so much as flinched.
It was as if he had no emotions. No independent thought. But the moment Lyla's name was mentioned, something had changed.
Was he really just a man? Or was he something else entirely?
Steeling himself, Ethan stepped forward.
His path led him toward a statue in the middle of the training grounds. As he moved closer, a figure came into view—an elderly man, seated on the ground.
But still, his soul sense detected nothing.
'What the hell…'
Ethan had never encountered anything like this before.
The old man wore simple, worn-out clothes. His hair and beard were completely white.
And strangely… he looked familiar.
Like someone Ethan had seen before, but couldn't quite place.
"Tell me everything you know about Lyla," the old man said, staring straight at Ethan.
Now standing just two meters away, Ethan hesitated.
"You've been here all this time, and you don't know what's going on? Who are you, exactly?"
The old man furrowed his brows, as if lost in thought.
"I… I think my name is Old Bastard… or maybe that's just what my old friend used to call me? Or… was it me who used to call him that? I don't remember… Either way, haven't you been calling me that all this time?"
"…What?"
Ethan was stunned.
So that's why the man hadn't reacted to the insults.
He wasn't ignoring them—he was actually recognizing the name. Ethan had unknowingly triggered something buried deep in the man's mind.
"…Are you alive? Or are you dead?"
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
The old man flinched.
He looked down at his own hands. His entire body.
"I… I… Am I dead?"
His entire presence wilted. The powerful aura surrounding him faded, replaced by something fragile.
He clutched his head, as if in immense pain. Then, all of a sudden, he shot to his feet.
"I remember now… My name is Donovan Silverwood!"
An overwhelming force burst from him, sharp and suffocating.
Ethan had suspected something was wrong from the moment he saw the mark on the old man's forehead. A small black needle was embedded right in the cente.
Through his soul sense, he could tell that spot… was the very core of this person's soul energy. No living human could survive with something piercing their Gate of Ascension.
There was only one explanation. He wasn't alive.
Ethan's soul sense couldn't detect him, meaning he wasn't sure if the old man was a spirit or a physical being. So he had simply asked outright.
And with just that question… the man had broken free. Donovan had remembered.
As Ethan's mind raced, his gaze lifted toward the statue.
Something about it felt off.
He couldn't shake the feeling that Donovan Silverwood and the statue were connected.
"…Donovan Silverwood," Ethan murmured.
Why did that name sound so familiar? He only knew one Silverwood—Lyla. He dug through his memories, searching for something, anything.
Then, suddenly, a vision surfaced, a memory from long ago. The day he first met Lyla.
The day they jumped off that cliff, he had blacked out after the fall. But before he lost consciousness…
A man had been carrying him. A man with Lyla on his back, holding her protectively.
"Little one, you have to make it through this," the man had murmured. "You saved my Ellie… I owe you more than you know."
If it weren't for you saving her, I, Donovan Silverwood, would never be able to atone for my mistake."
Back then, Ethan had barely been conscious. When he had opened his eyes, a middle-aged man was carrying him. Now, looking at the old man before him, Ethan could see it—this was the same person.
He hadn't seen him since that day. But as a child, he had asked about the man who had brought him back.
Lyla had told him it was her Ninth Granduncle.
Fourteen years had passed, and now, seeing Donovan Silverwood again, Ethan was shocked at how much he had aged.
Or rather… how much he had aged before he died.
When exactly had he died?
And why had his once-young face withered into such an ancient state?
"You're Lyla's Ninth Granduncle… Donovan Silverwood?" Ethan asked hesitantly.
Hearing Lyla's name, Donovan calmed down again, his expression shifting to one of curiosity.
"You…"
"I'm Ethan. Maybe you've never heard of me, but—"
"I have heard of you."
Before Ethan could finish, Donovan cut him off, staring at him with a sharp gaze.
"Didn't expect it to be you, kid. I never met you after that day, but your name… I remember it."
Ethan was caught off guard. Donovan studied him carefully.
"Hm… you still have a bit of that childhood look."
Seeing that Donovan wasn't hostile, Ethan relaxed his guard slightly.
"Wait—what the hell happened to you? I remember Lyla mentioning that you were her granduncle, but she also said you weren't that much older than her dad."
His real question was—how did you end up looking this ancient?
"I was nine years older than Lyla's father," Donovan explained. "I was the youngest of my generation, and he was the eldest of his.
As kids, he used to follow me around everywhere. Even though we were uncle and nephew, our bond was more like brothers."
He sighed.
"And Lyla's kidnapping… that was my fault. I was the one who lost her."
Donovan sat back down, and started recounting his past.
---
Back then, Lyla's father had been sent outside the Hidden territory to manage the family's affairs in the secular world.
Many of his uncles had been given the same challenge—to prove themselves in the real world.
In the end, it was Lyla's father who succeeded, earning his place as the family head.
During that time, Donovan had snuck out of the Hidden territory—not for business, but simply to catch up with his nephew.
Of course, he had always doted on Lyla. One day, he took her to an amusement park, thinking it would be a fun outing. But having spent most of his life in isolation, he had no real experience with children.
At first, he had a full security team following them.
But they were too slow, too clumsy. Donovan had lost patience and ditched them all. No ordinary bodyguards could keep up with him anyway.
Later, while buying Lyla an ice cream, she disappeared.
No matter how powerful he was, no matter how deadly his skills were, he couldn't track her down.
He had gone mad, searching nonstop for days.
Desperate, he even captured several Trackers—people with abilities specializing in finding lost things. But that night, a massive rainstorm had washed away every trace, every scent, every lead.
Enraged, he had killed over a dozen of the Trackers who had failed him.
Lyla had eventually been found, but by then, Donovan had drawn too much attention.
And he had caught the eye of the Ninth Division.
Being a Silverwood, he should have been able to avoid trouble. Normally, the Ninth Division turned a blind eye when dealing with powerful families.
But this time, for some reason, they refused to back down. They even rallied the other Seven Noble Families to pressure the Silverwoods.
The family stood their ground, shielding Donovan as best they could. But knowing he was the cause of the trouble, he made a choice.
He volunteered to enter the Silverwood Forbidden Grounds—Frostveil Cavern. For their family, this was the highest form of punishment.
Only by making that sacrifice did Ninth Division and the Seven Families finally drop their demands.
At this point in the story, Donovan's expression twisted with frustration. He clenched his fists, nearly hitting the ground.
"I thought I had it all planned out," he growled. "I'd stay in there long enough for them to leave, then I'd just walk out. Who the hell was going to stop me?"
He let out a bitter chuckle.
"Too bad my plan was solid, but someone else's plan was better."
His eyes darkened.
"Three days after I entered Frostveil Cavern… something happened that I never could have predicted."
