Solo Cultivating in Superhero Academy
Chapter 100: Mother and son

Chapter 100: Mother and son

Elius stepped back into the phasing bus, the same dimensional vehicle that had brought him through the wormhole his first day.

It hummed around him like an electric lullaby.

There was no Rockson to chat with this time.

Just his reflection in the flickering glass, golden eyes dimmer now, his mind weighed down with thoughts of clones, swords, and five unknown missions.

It didn’t take long before he was back home.

The bus released him with a gentle hiss and vanished in a flash of shimmering light, and he found himself standing before the apartment door.

He placed his hand on the handle.

Unlocked.

Strange.

He always locked it before leaving.

He slowly pushed the door open.

His golden irises narrowed.

He wasn’t alone.

Someone stood in the hallway ahead, barely visible through the dim lighting and shadows stretching in the apartment.

A woman.

A familiar one.

"Mom?" Elius asked.

Shannon didn’t speak at first.

Her expression looked different than usual—drawn, her eyes shadowed, her mouth a pale line.

There was something like smoke in the air, not real smoke, but the emotional kind. The residue of tears that had never been cried.

She turned and stepped aside gently, motioning toward the kitchen with a stiff nod.

"Come inside, sweetie."

Elius entered cautiously.

His instincts, honed by cultivation and near-death battles, screamed that something wasn’t right. His mother’s energy felt... off. Not dangerous, not malicious—but heavy. Sad. Like she was carrying a bag of bricks strapped to her soul.

He walked toward the kitchen.

The lights were on.

The table was full.

Plates stacked with warm rice, seasoned greens, bowls of hearty meat stew, fruit juice, even a tray of red bean buns—his favorite.

Everything was freshly made. The smell was thick, savory, and overwhelming.

Shannon looked at him and tried to smile. It barely held.

"I made... food. It’s hot. Sit."

Elius sat. She placed a cup beside him, filled with orange and peach juice, then quietly walked around and sat down beside him.

There was a long silence.

Unbearably long.

Shannon didn’t speak.

She just sat there beside him, fingers clasped in her lap, eyes looking at the table like it was the surface of the sea and she was about to sink.

Then finally, she reached for her chopsticks.

She took a bite.

Chewed.

Swallowed.

Still said nothing.

Another bite.

And another.

Then—

"You should eat too, Elius," she said softly, not looking at him. "I made a lot. Enough for us both."

Elius hesitated.

He watched her chew another bite.

Then he slowly lifted his chopsticks and tasted the rice.

Warm.

Comforting.

But he couldn’t enjoy it.

His eyes remained on his mother.

Something was wrong.

Horribly wrong.

He felt like he was watching her perform a funeral ritual while pretending it was just lunch.

She didn’t look at him when she finally began to speak.

"...Your father," she said. "Colt. Radiant Man. He... didn’t abandon us because he stopped caring."

Her voice was quiet, cracking under the weight of old memories.

"He left because... we were a threat to him. Or rather, we were a threat to those who wanted to control him."

She clenched her hands together. They trembled faintly.

"Years ago, when I was still pregnant with you... they tried to take me. The people behind the Hero Commission. They said I was a vulnerability. Said your father couldn’t function if he was distracted by us."

She looked at the table now, not at Elius.

"He resisted them. Fought them. Even hurt people. That’s when they issued his ’restructuring.’ That’s what they called it. They said he would be removed from domestic ties. Cleaned. Reformatted."

She swallowed.

"They made him choose. Hero... or family."

Elius stopped chewing.

"I never blamed him," she continued, her tone thick with years of suppressed grief. "I knew what he was forced to do. I knew it wasn’t his fault. And I never told you because I didn’t want you to... to hate him. I was hoping..."

Her voice broke slightly.

"I was hoping one day, when you were older, when you were stronger... you’d understand."

She turned to him now.

Eyes soft.

"Elius. He does care. In his own way. He watched from a distance. Always. When you scraped your knee at six, when you passed the scholarship exam, when you failed your first sword test. He was there. Watching. He couldn’t approach, but he saw."

She took his hand.

"I just want you to know that he loves you. That’s all. Maybe one day, you two can find a way... back."

Elius didn’t speak for a long time.

He just nodded.

Once.

Twice.

Slowly.

Then he looked down at the table and exhaled.

"Thank you, Mother," he said finally, gently sliding his hand away. "I’ll keep that in mind... but I don’t want to force it."

Shannon gave a slow, silent nod.

The air between them, heavy with sorrow and stories, softened just a little as Elius kept eating and eating.

Elius didn’t say anything more to his mother that night.

He had listened, respectfully, to all her words. Let them drift through his mind like fog settling over a battlefield, heavy and slow. But deep down, he didn’t care.

Not really. Not about his father’s hidden tears, or the distant watching, or the "sacrifice" made in silence.

If Radiant Man truly wanted to see his son, truly wanted to be present—he would’ve flown through a hundred enemies to stand before him.

Hell, if someone was blocking his father, his father would have blasted them.

No amount of explanation or force could stop his father from doing something.

Elius kept that thought buried. He didn’t say it aloud. Not to Shannon. Not to anyone. Some truths were like buried swords: sharp, quiet, and better left unsheathed.

So, instead, he nodded his final goodnight and slipped into his room.

The door closed behind him with a soft click. He dropped onto the bed, not bothering to change clothes. He stared at the ceiling for a long time before the exhaustion of the day claimed him.

And then came the nightmare.

...

In the dream, the sky was red.

Not sunset red.

Not fiery dusk red.

It was the color of burnt blood—bruised and dark, stretching endlessly across the heavens like the entire world had bled out and forgotten to die.

Elius stood alone.

Or... he thought he stood alone.

The city around him was ruined.

Massive buildings, torn like cardboard. Cars melted into the pavement.

Streets cracked open like gaping wounds. Fires burned where they shouldn’t—on water, in the air, dancing along invisible trails of destruction.

His golden eyes scanned the broken horizon.

Then—

A scream.

Not a human one.

Something deeper.

A sound like tortured metal scraped across bone, a sound that made his ears ring and his teeth ache. He turned, sword already forming from Qi, spinning beside him.

Something massive slithered in the distance.

Tentacles. Or maybe cables. Or maybe just shadows twisted by madness.

He couldn’t tell.

And it didn’t matter.

The creature saw him.

It knew him.

And it hated him.

Elius spun and ran.

He didn’t want to run.

His pride screamed at him to turn and fight, to stand and face the apocalypse like a cultivator should. But this wasn’t about pride. This was about survival.

And he was losing.

Everywhere he went, the nightmare followed. Twisting streets. Melting buildings. Shadows clawing through windows. His flying swords tried to strike back, but the blades passed through the horror like it wasn’t even there.

His clone appeared beside him—another him, golden hair, calm eyes.

It opened its mouth and whispered, "You can’t escape. This world is broken."

Then it cracked.

Split down the middle like porcelain dropped on stone.

Black fog poured out of it.

Elius screamed and fell backward, the world tilting as the ground broke beneath his feet and swallowed him whole.

He fell.

For miles.

Through cities. Through screams. Through memories of people he didn’t know. Through blood. Through fire.

Until finally—

He opened his eyes.