"Alright, let me take you back a bit—to when I was around eight years old. It was just Dad and me by then, living in Ethos City, and he was always busy with his research. But every now and then, he’d carve out a day just for us. One of my favorite memories comes from one of those days.

It was a rare, clear morning in the city, and Dad decided we needed a break from the house and the lab. He took me to the Ethos Sky Gardens—a massive park suspended between skyscrapers, full of lush greenery and exotic plants from all over Abyssifar. I’d never seen anything like it before. The bioluminescent flowers that only glowed at night, the birds that seemed to sing in perfect harmony—it was magical.

What I remember most, though, was the little mechanical dragonfly we found near the edge of the garden. Someone must’ve lost it, because its wings were bent, and it couldn’t fly anymore. I wanted to take it home, but Dad crouched beside me and said, ‘Why don’t we fix it here?’ So, right there on the grass, he opened his bag and pulled out some tiny tools.

He started explaining how the gears worked, how the little circuits controlled its wings—it was the first time I’d really seen his abilities in action. He didn’t just fix it; he improved it. When we were done, the dragonfly’s wings shimmered like silver, and it buzzed to life, zipping around us before taking off into the gardens.

I remember looking up at him, this giant of a man with steel-blue eyes and hands capable of building wonders, and thinking he was invincible. That day wasn’t about powers or responsibilities—it was just about us, fixing something together.

That memory stuck with me. Maybe that’s why I ended up in the lab with him years later—because it wasn’t just the dragonfly that got repaired that day. It was a little piece of me, too."