Violet

Alfred Norman's POV 

*Clip clop*

[Alfred steadily rushed through the lands of Ardania, towards his homeland, after hearing the news about the bandit invasion of his house.]

Quicker. I need to return as soon as possible.

[After hours of endless horse riding, he returned.]

"Uff...Finally."

"LUCIA! FRAY!"  – I called out my wife and my son, who were meanwhile hurrying towards my house.

After I entered the house through the door frame, the door itself wasn't where it was supposed to be. It seems like the job of that penetrator.

"Sir Alfred, we're upstairs!" – It was the voice of my dear friend and subordinate, Marsh Emerson's. 

In a matter of seconds, I climbed the stairs to get to my family.

And when I opened the door to the room, where everyone was reciting. I was petrified.

Fray was lying on the bed; his body was fully swollen, and it seemed like his skin was rotting. 

The scent of blood distracted my attention from Fray to the blood on the floor, which was scattered all over it.

There was also the corpse of a man, which had countless stabs in it.

My wife seemed to be asleep.

Our maid, Beatrice, was holding a crying baby in her arms.

W-wait, a baby?!

"Beatrice is this baby-." –  Before I could finish my sentence, she nodded her head.

"It's a girl," – she said, smiling.

"What was the name Fray thought of..." – I looped into my memories to find the name.

"Ah yes, Violet!" 

Beatrice offered to let me hold Violet so she could have a better look at her father.

"Amethyst eyes..just like Lucia's." – I picked out her appearance. 

"Sir, I'm utterly sorry for disturbing your moment with your daughter, but there seems to be something wrong with Fray." –

Y-yes Fray! There seemed to be something wrong with him.

"Tell me, Marsh, what happened to him?" – I asked my subordinate for an explanation."

"Sir, I'm not entirely positive in my answer, but it's the only assumption I could think of."

"You see the corpse of a man right there?" –  As Marsh asked me the question, he pointed towards the corpse.

"It's an orange-core mage. He's in the same league as me; no, it seems like he's superior to me—upper stage orange core, while I'm only on the middle stage." – He continued his explanation.

I noticed the man's orange core as soon as I entered the room, but I don't understand what Marsh is getting at; it's not a rare occurance when a middle-stage core beats an upper-stager.

"Sir, you probably assumed I killed the man, but no." – He stopped for a moment.

If not him, then who?

"Your son, Fray," –  It seemed like Marsh was reading my thoughts.

"When I entered the room, the man was already dead; no, it would be better worded to say that the man was slaughtered, and Fray was laying on top of him, fully covered in blood and a dagger in his hands."

"A 4-year-old boy, with no magic and no physical training, defeated an orange-core mage."—he finally exclaimed his guess.

But how? It's impossible!

I looked at Beatrice to hear her side of the story as well, and she only nodded in confirmation of Marsh's words and added, 

"I was in the room when it happened. It happened too fast for my eyes to follow; Fray was simply too fast for both of us. He easily subjugated the man and then mercilessly stabbed him countless times, but he did it for our own good! To protect us!" 

He was too fast for an orange-core mage?

Does that mean he was using mana, but how? He doesn't possess a core, nor have I ever thought him magic?

"His body reached its limit, and Fray exhausted it completely to protect his family. I suppose he was able to use this overwhelming power for a couple of seconds due to his sheer willpower only." –Marsh said.

"He's a true hero who appeared at the last moment to help his family; if anyone asked me how a soldier should act, I would tell them what happened here." – He added:

I looked at the bed, where unconscious Fray layed, but I was sure that he wasn't dead. 

He's not going to die just like that. I know Fray; he's a true warrior, and enduring such a thing as death is an insignificant task for him.

"We will wait. 1, 2, 3, or even 10 years. We will wait until his last breath fades away. Until Fray is breathing—he's alive, my son is going to live."