Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power Chapter 478: A grandfather and a grandson, and life’s greatest lesson [1]

"You indeed got your mother’s look."

Those words struck Kaden like a solid strike, making his frame stagger beneath his frailty and the scene unfolding ahead.

The cane he had just gained betrayed him. He tumbled forward, knees smashing into the wooden planks with a sharp crack that unleashed waves of pain across his entire frame.

A groan escaped him on reflex. Yet his gaze remained locked on the elderly figure. As though entranced. Or caught in something even more profound.

"Well, my boy, are you that surprised?" The old man chuckled, his laughter resembling a gentle stream. Only then did Kaden notice his own prolonged silence, words failing to form.

The old man glanced at Historian, offering a nod filled with clear appreciation. "Thank you for your efforts, Karim." He stated. "And the same to Yasmine. She must be aged now, judging by how you look. Tell me, how much time has elapsed out there?"

"Too many, master." Historian — Karim — responded in a brief yet deferential manner. He tilted his head, gaze sliding over a tiny pool of yellowish liquid and a pile of neglected timber, then returning to the old man.

"Far too much time. Or maybe not even a moment, with our conditions merely stemming from the Curse of Sorrow." He gave a lopsided smile. "You understand that well, don’t you, master. You grasp the nature of time in this place."

"Aye." The old man exhaled, his stare still pinned on the stunned Kaden. "Vainglory meant business that day." He dropped his gaze to his shriveled, trembling palms. "Deadly serious, in fact."

A heavy quiet fell over them.

Kaden hadn’t yet regained his speech, his mind struggling to parse the baffling exchange. Relief washed over him as it halted, allowing a brief chance to gather his thoughts.

The pause ended swiftly. Karim resumed, injecting a strained cheer that rang hollow and strained.

"Yasmine is doing fine." He declared, baring his stained yellow teeth. "She holds the role of Shaman now."

The old man forced a chuckle. "I warned her against that route. She ought to have built a life with a spouse and kids."

"Fear held her back." Karim winced. "Fear of the Curse of Sorrow claiming them, as it did countless tribesfolk before. Thus, she picked the securest path."

"Forsaking love for a life of dread and isolation."

Karim lifted his shoulders. "Worse destinies exist." He remarked, eyeing Kaden sprawled on the floor and lingering there briefly before spinning around and heading back to his dwelling.

"The appearance," Historian’s voice carried as he departed, "is the sole similarity he shares with you, master. Maybe a sliver of your insight as well. Yet he resembles Vainglory far more."

"Are you afraid, Karim?" The old man queried with a sly smile, standing up gradually, joints grinding and popping like rusted mechanisms, drawing a flinch from him.

"Afraid?" Karim repeated. "Indeed, master. And you ought to feel it too. Trapped beasts prove the most dangerous. I’ve dealt with one such creature already."

His steps grew faint, his essence vanishing utterly into the shadows.

Left by themselves, Kaden eyed the old man positioned mere steps away, propped on a dark staff etched with fissures that throbbed subtly with red glow.

Kaden’s brow furrowed at the staff. A strange familiarity welled up inside, only to fade as the old man began speaking.

"Why remain kneeling there?" He flashed a strikingly familiar smirk. "Don’t say you’re as dim as Dain. Or as mute as Daela?" He sighed with feigned sorrow, wearing the expression of a grandparent vexed by wayward kin. "What sort are you, Kaden?"

"You... you are..." Kaden stuttered, groping for the proper terms. They eluded him.

Yet the old man beamed, his features radiating a lasting warmth.

"Aye, I am." He affirmed, extending his hand to Kaden. "I missed your birth. And your upbringing. But I’d spot my own lineage anywhere, particularly your mother’s features in you."

Kaden’s breath hitched sharply.

"And I have been watching you, Kaden."

"Watching... me?" Kaden repeated, extending his own hand to clasp the old man’s.

A shiver wracked him at once, nearly choking back a gasp of alarm. His eyes widened in shock.

Icy. Utterly frigid, piercing to the core. It seemed the chill ignored his flesh to seize his very spirit, clenching it in an iron grasp.

A chill Kaden knew instantly. The profound, bone-numbing freeze of mortality.

Beyond that, it matched a prior sensation. From Waverith’s shadowy lane, where a ragged elder beggar lounged amid grime, his decayed yellow grin ever fixed on him.

Realization twisted across Kaden’s features. His mouth contorted in bitter comprehension.

’He has been watching me... all along?’

The old man perceived it, grinned wider, and tugged lightly at Kaden — more symbolic than forceful — aiding his rise though struggling himself.

"Yes." He confirmed. "It was me. Raven Warborn. None other."

"How?" Kaden’s tone rasped. Now facing him squarely, he discerned in the elder the specter of a fighter, akin to his father in prime.

Reduced now to a diminutive, creased, shrunken form scarcely able to stand steady. Spine bent. Shoulders caved in like a youth cowering from phantoms beneath the covers.

So tiny. So delicate. Teetering on death’s brink, perhaps already beyond in certain respects.

Yet what captivated Kaden, gazing upon his grandfather, was the joy overflowing from him, on the verge of overwhelming entirely.

"Ah, you wonder how I did it?" He replied, thrilled. "Where do you suppose your father inherited his Space power, hehehe?"

He chortled, then drew nearer and looped his right arm around Kaden’s.

"I merely forged a sliver of my image and shifted it to another realm."

"My father can’t do this."

"Your father is a useless bastard."

Kaden’s mouth quirked, resisting the urge to tremble from his grandfather’s deathly grip as the elder guided him further into the timber home.

Moments of quiet passed before he spoke, right as they crossed a threshold into the sitting area.

"Why are—!"

"Are you interested, Kaden?" Raven interrupted, halting abruptly and turning to confront him. Confusion clouded Kaden’s expression.

Raven lifted five quivering, age-spotted digits. "Pardon my directness. We Warborns favor straightforwardness over finesse or verse. And time slips away for softer words."

Kaden sensed what followed. His instinct proved correct.

"I’ll be straightforward, my boy." He grinned. "I won’t survive beyond five days."

"What—!"

"And as I mentioned," he overrode once more, easing his hand down amid evident weariness, "I absent from your birth, youth, and all milestones forging the man before me." He offered a wistful smile, hacked several times, then continued. "But grant me this."

He hoisted the five fingers anew, straining visibly.

"Five days, Kaden. Just you and me. Isolated in this home." His eyes grew misty. "A grandfather-grandson conversation. Our inaugural shared instant."

’And our final one.’

Raven mused silently, withholding the thought. No point voicing it. Kaden’s gaze revealed full awareness.

Tears streamed down his face. As if Raven had snuffed out his final spark of optimism.

Raven merely shook his head and smiled with the scant vitality lingering within.

"Our initial discussion shall cover," he declared, rotating gradually toward a lounging seat, "the weight of decisions. Join me, my boy. Take a seat."

"I have awaited you. Let me learn you. And impart what guidance I can ere the curse devours my soul’s remnant."

—End of Chapter 478—