I Possess the SSS Skill: Future Sight-Chapter 14: Morfind Valtir
Kyle and Victor were thrown harshly onto a luxurious red carpet in the main reception room.
They hit the ground and rolled together, crying and trembling, clinging to each other in one last desperate attempt for protection.
They shook like leaves in a storm, their eyes tightly shut, waiting for cold scalpels to pierce their chests.
"I sincerely apologize for this inappropriate display, my noble sir."
Kyle heard Mrs. Grace’s voice. It was not angry or commanding.
It was submissive, flattering, and so low it was nauseating.
"Children sometimes... become extremely anxious about moving to a new environment. But I assure you, they are in excellent health and very obedient," Grace lied shamelessly.
Kyle forced one of his crimson eyes open through his tears to see who the new executioner was—the one who would buy them.
It was not a scientist in a bloodstained coat.
It was not a monster with a deformed eye.
There stood a man in the middle of the room. An old man, seemingly in his sixties.
He wore a very elegant black classic suit, woven from fabric that seemed to absorb light.
He held a refined wooden cane with a silver wolf-shaped head.
His hair was gray, neatly styled, and his face was lined with dignified wrinkles that spoke of a long life of power and experience.
But his eyes...
His eyes were deep, sorrowful, and carried an immense weight.
His name was Mr. Morfind Valtir.
Morfind looked at Kyle and Victor.
The two children looked like worn rags—their clothes torn, Victor’s nails bleeding, Kyle’s cheek marked with a swollen red imprint from the guard’s slap, and their eyes overflowing with real terror—the terror of death.
Morfind did not look at them like a buyer inspecting goods.
He looked at them like a man witnessing a bleeding wound in the heart of humanity.
"Anxious?" Morfind said in a deep, rough, calm voice—but with a tone that made Mrs. Grace tremble in place.
"This is not anxiety, Mrs. Grace. This is pure terror. What exactly are you doing to these children in this cursed building?"
Grace swallowed hard and stepped back, her plastic smile completely melting into genuine fear of the old man.
"W-we take care of them as best as we can, sir! They are just—"
"Silence." Morfind cut her off with a single word, cold as a blade.
Morfind stepped toward the trembling children.
As he approached, Victor screamed and tried to crawl backward, while Kyle shut his eyes tightly and covered his head, waiting for the blow—waiting for death.
But the blow never came.
Instead, Morfind slowly bent down, ignoring the pain in his aged joints, and knelt on the luxurious carpet to meet them at eye level.
He did not touch them at first.
He set his cane aside and slowly extended his large, warm hands—hands marked with old scars—toward them, like someone approaching wounded birds, afraid of frightening them.
"Shhh... it’s alright. It’s alright, my little ones," Morfind whispered in a very warm voice, like a fireplace on a stormy winter night.
"No one will hurt you anymore. I’m here to take you away from this place. Somewhere safe."
But the words meant nothing to Kyle and Victor.
"Away" meant the laboratory. "Safe" meant dying quietly.
They continued trembling violently, crying without sound, their eyes filled with terror.
Morfind sighed deeply, a heavy sorrow weighing upon him.
He knew.
Somehow, he knew what was happening in this orphanage.
He knew about the syndicates, about the experiments, about the hidden slaughterhouse beneath the ground.
He had arrived too late to save many—but he would not leave these two behind.
Without any sudden movement, Morfind extended his strong arms and lifted them both.
He carried Kyle in his right arm and Victor in his left.
Their small bodies were stiff like wooden boards, terribly light from malnutrition.
"Finalize the guardianship transfer documents immediately," Morfind said to Grace in a tone that allowed no argument as he turned to leave.
"And if I learn that a single hair on the remaining children has been touched before I send my inspection committees, I will bring this building down on your head, Mrs. Grace."
He did not turn to see Grace’s pale, terrified face.
He walked out through the main double doors.
Outside, there was no rusted orphanage carriage.
There was something Kyle and Victor had never seen before in their lives.
A giant black metal monster.
That was how their innocent minds translated the form of the luxurious armored vehicle standing before the orphanage gates.
A vehicle powered by pure Eitra engines, glossy black, with completely darkened windows, emitting a low hum like a breathing beast.
As Morfind approached the car with them, the children panicked again.
Were they going to be fed to this metal monster?
Victor screamed again, and Kyle struggled in Morfind’s grip, but the old man held them with steady gentleness.
The driver opened the rear door.
The interior was spacious, covered in soft natural leather and illuminated with a warm yellow light.
Morfind gently placed the children onto the seats, then sat across from them.
The door closed, and the "metal monster" moved smoothly, leaving behind Dawn Hope Orphanage—and the hell they had escaped.
Throughout the ride, silence filled the car, broken only by the children’s muffled sobs and the trembling of their bodies.
They clung to each other in the corner of the wide seat, knees drawn close, their eyes never leaving Morfind.
They watched him in fear, waiting for the moment he would turn into a monster like Mrs. Grace—the moment he would pull out a scalpel and cut open their chests.
Morfind tried to calm them in every way he could.
He took out pieces of luxurious chocolate wrapped in golden foil and offered them.
But they did not reach out.
In their world, food was nothing but a way to fatten them before slaughter.
Morfind smiled sadly and spoke gently to them, telling them about his large home, the garden, and how he would be their "grandfather" from now on.
But words—no matter how warm—cannot melt the ice of terror carved by trauma.
The car arrived at the Valtir mansion.
A massive white palace, standing atop a green hill far from the polluted heart of Elysium.
It was surrounded by vast gardens and fountains.
To anyone else, it would have been paradise.
But to Kyle and Victor, it was just another cage—more luxurious, more terrifying.
Perhaps this was the old man’s personal laboratory?
Morfind carried them inside.
He ordered the servants to prepare a warm bath.
When the children were placed into the marble bathtub filled with warm water and fragrant foam, they screamed again.
Water.
They remembered the green liquid. They remembered Serin drowning in the cylinder.
"No! We don’t want the liquid! Don’t drown us!" Kyle screamed, trying to climb out of the tub, while Victor struck the water wildly, trying to escape.
Morfind immediately understood.
His heart tightened in pain.
He pulled them out at once, wrapped them in thick, soft white cotton towels, warm and comforting.
He personally dried them with extreme gentleness and dressed them in soft silk nightclothes—fabrics they had never touched in their lives.
He took them to a spacious bedroom with a large warm bed.
A small table nearby was filled with plates of roasted meat, warm soup, and fresh fruits.
"No, my little ones. You must eat to regain your strength," Morfind said gently as he sat on a nearby chair.
But they did not eat.
Kyle and Victor retreated to the far corner of the large bed.
They pulled the silk covers up to their noses.
They clung to each other like a single soul split into two bodies.
They trembled.
A constant, unending trembling that would not stop.
They looked at the food, then at Morfind.
Will he kill us now?
Is this the last meal before our chests are torn open?
Why is he treating us kindly?
Does he want our blood to be fresher for the experiments?
Their eyes spoke all of this terror.
Morfind Valtir sat in his chair, watching these two broken children.
A powerful man, one of influence and authority, who had fought wars and faced monsters in the gates...
And yet now, he felt utterly powerless before the gaze of two four-year-old children whose humanity had been completely shattered.
A single tear slid from the old man’s eye.
A silent tear carving its path through the wrinkles of his dignified face.
"What did they do to you... dear God, what did you see in that hell?"
Morfind whispered to himself, his voice choked, realizing that repairing their frail bodies might take weeks...
But repairing their shattered souls might take an entire lifetime.
That night, in the luxurious palace, Kyle and Victor did not sleep.
They remained awake in the corner, watching the shadows, waiting for the dissection nightmare to begin.
And they did not know that the old man sitting near them had sworn to himself that night—
that he would burn the entire city of Elysium to the ground before allowing anyone to harm them again.
