The morning sun cast long shadows across the academy courtyard as the sleek transport shuttle hummed to life. I adjusted my coat collar, watching Lira fidget with her new uniform's sleeve.
"Today's the day," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the tightness in my chest.
Lira kicked at the cobblestones, her polished shoes scuffing the perfect shine Eve had insisted on. "A whole month already? Feels like yesterday you pulled me out of that alley."
Eve's fingers trembled as she straightened Lira's already-perfect collar for the third time. "I've prepared 87 different contingency plans," she whispered, her voice module glitching slightly. "Including emergency teleportation protocols and-"
"Eve," I chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "She's going to school, not war."
Lira surprised us both by throwing her arms around Eve's waist. "I'll call every weekend," she mumbled into Eve's sweater.
I knelt to meet Lira at eye level. "Dont Make trouble. Learn something. Just remember whose daughter you are." The unspoken command - make me proud - hung between us.
She nodded fiercely, wiping her nose on her sleeve despite Eve's immediate gasp of protest.
"Here." I pressed a sleek black card into her palm. "For emergencies. Only 100 million, but-"
"100 MILLION?!" Lira's tears vanished as she gaped at the card.
I sighed dramatically and produced a small box. "Fine. Take these too. A hundred more. But try not to crash the economy before your first exams."
Lira's gasp echoed across the courtyard as she lifted the lid. The cards' platinum edges caught the sunlight, making her eyes widen like saucers. "This is too much!" she breathed, fingers hovering over the fortune.
I raised an eyebrow. "Since when does 'too much' exist in this family?"
She snapped the box shut with a determined click. "Never mind then," she huffed, turning toward the waiting shuttle. "Just don't go crying into your throne cushions, old man."
Old man.
The words struck like a dagger between my ribs. My hand flew to my chest in mock agony. "Wounded. Betrayed by my own flesh and blood."
At the shuttle's ramp, Lira spun back. Sunlight haloed her wild hair as she stuck out her tongue. "Kidding!" The word danced on her lips, bright and teasing. "Try not to miss me too much!"
Her laughter lingered in the air like windchimes as the shuttle doors sealed shut, carrying away my greatest treasure - and every single one of my black cards.
I turned to face the now-empty courtyard, the shuttle's vapor trail still fading in the morning sky. "Guess my vacation's over," I murmured, hands in my pockets.
Eve's fingers pinched the bridge of her nose. "It certainly is not," she declared, her voice laced with the particular steeliness she reserved for my work avoidance. "You've had exactly three days off in the past century. You're taking another vacation when the sun burns out."
I opened my mouth to protest.
"Which," she continued, pulling up a holographic calendar that shimmered with angry red markers, "based on current stellar decay models, won't be for at least another year."
The courtyard's automated sprinklers chose that moment to activate, drenching us both in a perfectly timed shower.
Eve didn't even blink, water dripping from her nose. "Your next meeting starts in seventeen minutes. The ministers are already crying in the office."
I sighed, shaking water from my hair like a disgruntled dog. "Remind me again why I created you?"
Her smile was all teeth. "Because someone needed to save you from yourself."
As we walked back toward the palace, the weight of Lira's absence settled between us - heavy, but not unbearable. Not when I still had Eve to bully me through the paperwork.
Six Months Later - Royal Office
The prime minister's nasal voice droned on as I massaged my temples. "Your Majesty, statistically speaking, a monarch without heirs is like a castle without foundations—"
"For the last time," I growled, slamming my palm on the desk hard enough to make the tables around jump, "I'm not getting married."
'I have Eve,' I thought, glancing at where she lounged invisibly on the chandelier, kicking her legs like a mischievous ghost. 'Who needs a queen when I've got a partner like her?'
The minister adjusted his spectacles, undeterred. "But sire! The people worry—"
"What people?" I snapped. "The ones enjoying free healthcare and 20% taxes? Those people?"
A knock at the door saved me from throttling him. My secretary peeked in, her usually composed face twitching with barely-contained panic. "Your Majesty, there's a... situation. A child at the gates claims to be your—"
The door burst open.
Lira stood in the doorway, her academy uniform in tatters - one sleeve barely hanging on, a shoe missing, and her hair standing straight up as if she'd personally challenged a lightning bolt to a duel. A faint smell of burnt sugar and ozone clung to her.
"Hi Papa!" she chirped, launching herself at me with arms wide.
I caught her mid-air and hoisted her up to eye level, my sternest "Disappointed Progenitor" look firmly in place. "Let me guess... 'I didn't mean to'? 'It was an accident'? Or my personal favorite - 'the formula looked stable'?"
Before she could spin her inevitable excuse, the Head Principal shuffled in, his once-pristine robes now speckled with what appeared to be neon pink soot. He mopped his brow with a handkerchief that immediately disintegrated into glitter.
"Your Majesty," he wheezed, performing a bow that nearly toppled him over, "a small... incident report."
I deposited Lira onto my throne where she immediately curled into a suspiciously innocent ball. "How small are we talking? Broken window small? Or 'we need to rebuild the west wing' small?"
The principal's eye twitched. "The... entire alchemy pavilion has been relocated."
"Relocated?"
"To the bottom of the lake."
I turned slowly to face my daughter. Lira had somehow acquired a pair of comically large glasses and was pretending to read a book titled Innocent Children's Guide to Not Blowing Things Up - upside down.
"For reference," Lira squeaked, avoiding eye contact while absentmindedly braiding the throne's velvet tassels, "the textbook didn't specifically say not to mix—"
I held up a hand. "You're a walking natural disaster with pigtails."
The principal's glasses slid down his nose. "Your Majesty, if I may... what exactly is your relationship with Miss Lira?"
"Oh right." I straightened Lira's crooked crown—when had she gotten that?—and gestured like a game show host. "Everyone, meet Princess Lira Eden. My daughter."
The ensuing silence was so absolute you could hear a pin drop. Then—
"YOUR DAUGHTER?!" the entire room erupted, voices harmonizing in perfect shock.
The principal looked ready to combust. "But when—how—who—"
I snapped my fingers. The academy reassembled itself. "There, fixed the school. Oh, and revived the five dead students."
Lira froze mid-swig from my goblet. "Wait, there were casualties?"
"Mmhm." I plucked the goblet from her hands and replaced it with a glass of milk. "Three from the blast, one who laughed himself to death, and poor Timothy who mistook your 'improved' healing potion for juice." I leaned down until our noses almost touched. "Don't. Do. it. Again."
She swallowed hard, milk mustache quivering. "Yes Papa..."
The principal made a sound like a deflating balloon before collapsing.
Later That Evening
I collapsed onto Eve's lap with a dramatic sigh. "A classroom, Eve. A single classroom was all I asked her not to destroy."
Eve's fingers carded through my hair. "To be fair," she murmured, "most children don't have access to military grade alchemy supplies."
I groaned as she hit a particularly tense knot in my shoulders. "She mixed dragon blood with chaos crystals, Eve. That's not genetics - that's a public safety hazard."
The fireplace crackled, casting flickering shadows across Eve's smiling face. "And yet you didn't even ground her."
"Please. Like i had the heart for that." I waved a hand. "Besides, I handled it. Memory wipes for the witnesses, school rebuilt good as new..." My smirk faded slightly.
Eve's laughter rang like wind chimes. "Tomorrow's headlines: 'Progenitor's Prodigy Pulverizes school!'" She mimed holding up a newspaper. "Subtitle: 'Royal Fruit Baskets Fail to Appease Traumatized Students.'"
I flicked her nose. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Of course." She leaned down, her breath against my forehead. "It's nice seeing you be a real parent for once. Scoldings and all."
The clock ticked in the corner as I stared at the ceiling. "...She called me 'Papa' when she apologized."
Eve's fingers stilled. "Oh?"
"Not 'Your Majesty.' Not 'Progenitor.' Just... Papa." I cleared my suddenly tight throat. "Little demon."
Her lips brushed my temple. "Like father, like daughter."
Summer Break
The sleek academy transport hummed to a stop, its doors sliding open to reveal Lira bounding out with all the subtlety of a fireworks display.
"Well, look who decided to visit," I said, leaning against the marble pillar. "And you didn't even bring me a burning building as a gift. I'm touched."
Lira rolled her eyes, conjuring a perfect fireball that danced harmlessly above her palm. "See? Total control now. Not even a single explosion in..." She counted on her fingers. "...three whole days!"
"Truly, a miracle worthy of the history books," I deadpanned, then nodded to the wide-eyed girl shrinking behind her. "And this must be your partner-in-crime?"
Lira yanked her friend forward. "Papa, meet Sara! Sara, this is my dad - oh right, I guess he's technically the king or whatever."
Sara's face went through five distinct stages of panic before settling on 'deer in headlights'. "Y-your M-majesty, I-I had no idea Lira was- I mean, she never mentioned-"
I crouched to her eye level with a conspiratorial whisper. "Let me guess - she also 'forgot' to mention the dragon in the east wing?"
Sara made a small squeaking noise as Lira slung an arm around her shoulders. "Relax! He only looks scary when ministers annoy him." She paused. "Okay, and before coffee. And when-"
"Alright, enough embarrassing me," I interrupted, ruffling Lira's hair. "Eve's prepared enough food to feed a small army, and someone promised me an explosion-free summer." I raised an eyebrow at Lira. "That wasn't just empty talk, was it?"
As we strolled toward the palace gardens, Sara's eyes widened at the estate. "Lira... your house has actual wings?" she whispered.
Lira waved a dismissive hand. "Papa's just messing with you."
Turning to Sara, I softened my tone. "You're staying with us for summer break, right?"
"If... if that's alright with you, your majesty," she stammered, fingers twisting in her skirt.
"More than alright. Though I hope you told your parents?"
She nodded quickly. "I said I'd be staying with Lira, but they don't know I'd be staying with..." She trailed off, glancing nervously at the palace spires.
"Relax," I chuckled. "Just focus on having fun. And maybe keep an eye on this one-" I nudged Lira, "-she's still getting used to how things work in Eden."
"I will, si-" Sara caught herself. "I mean, yes... sir."
"Much better," I smiled. "Now let's see if we can make it to dinner without anyone setting the gardens on fire. Again."
Lira's innocent whistle told me we were already in trouble.
The golden light of late summer draped over the courtyard where Lira and Sara sat cross-legged in the grass, their fingers still sparking with the remnants of their latest "experiment." A faint wisp of smoke curled from what had been—until five minutes ago—a perfectly good rose bush.
"Time's up, pyromaniacs," I called from the terrace, watching as the girls scrambled to hide their makeshift alchemy set behind their backs. With a snap of my fingers, the roses bloomed anew, petals unfolding in fast-forward. "That's the seventh bush this week. At this rate, we'll have to rename the place 'The Ashen Palace.'"
Lira bounded up the steps, her summer freckles darkened by weeks in the sun. "But Papa, we were just—"
"—testing combustion properties of dust, I know." I ruffled her hair, now streaked with blond from days spent outdoors. "Your academy's fire marshal is going to have an aneurysm."
Sara lingered a few steps behind, her once-timid smile now easy and bright. The girl who'd arrived wide-eyed in June now moved through the palace like she belonged there—though she still jumped when addressed as "Lady Sara."
The transport shuttle's shadow passed over us as it descended, its humming engines sending ripples through the garden's reflection ponds. Lira's grin faltered just for a heartbeat.
Eve materialized beside us, her arms laden with wrapped packages. "Nutritionally balanced snacks," she announced, shoving them into Sara's bag. "And the self-activating fire suppressant," she added, tucking a silver sphere into Lira's pocket.
Sara surprised me with a sudden hug. "Thank you, sir. For everything." Her voice was muffled against my coat.
I patted her back. "Keep her out of trouble. Or at least make sure the explosions are educational."
Lira's embrace was fiercer, her small frame clinging tight. "Don't do anything boring while I'm gone," she mumbled into my shoulder.
"Define 'boring.'"
"Paperwork. Meetings. Not setting things on fire."
I laughed, holding her at arm's length. "No promises." My thumb brushed away a smudge of soot on her cheek. "Make me proud, little spark."
As the shuttle doors sealed behind them, Eve's hand found mine. The gardens stood untouched, the roses impossibly red against the darkening sky. Somewhere above us, Lira's laughter carried through an open window, already plotting her next great experiment.
The sleek academy transport disappeared around the palace gates, its quiet hum fading into the summer air. I let out a long sigh, running a hand through my hair. "What am I going to do with that girl..."
Eve's shoulder brushed against mine as she stepped beside me, the faint honey-scent of her nanite fluid mixing with the garden's floral perfume. "You do realize she's absorbing magicules from you, right?"
I blinked. "How? My output is suppressed to near-human levels."
"Near-zero isn't zero." Eve's fingers danced through a holographic display showing microscopic energy trails. "Every touch, every hug—she's been collecting traces like a sponge. At this rate..." The display zoomed in on Lira's latest scan, her irises now rimmed with crimson flecks.
"So that's why her eyes..." My voice trailed off as the implications settled.
Eve's smile was softer than usual. "Worried she'll inherit your legendary delinquency?"
I snorted. "That 'delinquency' is why half the multiverse still flinches at my name."
"And why the other half kneels." Her fingers laced through mine, cool against my skin. "She'll be magnificent."
The last of the transport's dust settled on the garden path. Somewhere beyond the gates, my little spark was carrying pieces of me into the world—whether it was ready or not.
I turned toward the mansion, the evening breeze carrying the scent of Eden's twilight gardens. "Well, let's leave it at that," I said, waving off the conversation.
Then—a spatial tear.
Eve retreating into my core.
'Who could it be?'
<
'Granted.'
A flood of analysis surged through my mind—dimensional signatures, magicule patterns, threat projections—all crystallizing into a single name.
<
'Anos? What does he want?'
The rift split wider, and there he stood—the Demon King of Tyranny himself, hair whipping in the unnatural wind, crimson eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Yo, Anos." I raised a hand in lazy greeting. "Long time no see. What's up?"
He smirked, arms crossed in that trademark pose. "I see you're doing well. How's it been?"
"Eh, you know." I shrugged. "Started a kingdom. Adopted a chaos gremlin. The usual."
Anos chuckled, the ground trembling beneath his feet. "Nice to see you sticking to something for once."
I matched his grin. "What, missed me?"
The air between us crackled—not with hostility, but the electric tension of two forces of nature recognizing their equal.
Anos brushed a speck of dust from his coat sleeve, his crimson eyes glinting with something almost nostalgic. "I came to see how you're doing, Nox. Thousands of years without a single interdimensional incident? I was starting to think you'd died."
I struck a dramatic pose, hand over my heart. "Ohhh, so you did miss me!"
He scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "Still faking emotions, I see. Some things never change."
"Nope. Emotions are a burden," I said, waving a hand dismissively. "Like pants. Or moderation."
Anos studied me for a long moment, then smirked. "I can sense you've outgrown me. That... actually makes me proud." He crossed his arms. "We were decent rivals back in the day."
I threw an arm around his shoulders, grinning. "Ohhh, you considered me a rival? How touching, my friend!" My voice dropped to a mock whisper. "Should we hold hands and skip through a field of flowers next?"
He vanished from my grip in a swirl of silver magic, reappearing on the palace steps. "And here I thought fatherhood might've matured you."
"Nope!" I popped the leaning against a marble column.
Anos smirked. "Same as ever. No matter." His crimson eyes flickered with amusement.
I gestured toward the mansion's door, where the doors swung open on their own. "So. Care for some tea?"
"Sure," he said, strolling past me without hesitation. "Let's see what your so-called 'paradise' has to offer."
With two sharp claps of my hands, the shadows in the corner of the hall coagulated into human shape. Claire materialized in her usual maid attire.
"What do you require, my lord?" she asked, her voice smooth as poisoned honey.
"Brew us some tea," I said, meeting Anos' challenging stare. "You're allowed to use that one."
A barely perceptible widening of her eyes—the only sign of surprise she'd ever show—before she bowed and melted back into the darkness.
Anos chuckled, taking a seat at the obsidian table that hadn't been there a second ago. "'That one,' huh? Must be special."
I grinned. "Oh, you'll see."
The delicate porcelain cup looked small in Anos's hand as he took his first sip. His crimson eyes widened almost imperceptibly—the closest thing to shock I'd seen from him.
"So," I swirled my own cup, "anything interesting happen in your world lately?"
He set the cup down with deliberate care. "Nothing that would hold your attention. Peace is... boring." A faint smirk. "Though your absence did make things quieter."
"Oh?" I leaned forward. "If that changes, give me a call. I'm sure your dimension could cough up someone who'd give me a workout."
At that moment, Claire materialized soundlessly between us, her gloved hands steady as she refilled our cups.
"Thank you, Claire," I murmured. She vanished without a sound, though her shadow lingered a heartbeat too long.
Anos took another sip, then stared at the cup like it had betrayed him. "This is... the best tea I've ever tasted."
"Right?" I grinned. "Stole it from some 'Tea God' in Universe-B-42. Turns out brewing was his whole divine purpose."
Anos' eyebrow climbed. "A Tea God actually exists?"
"Surprised me too." I shrugged. "He works for me now. Makes this blend from leaves grown in the ashes of dying stars." A pause. "Also resurrected him seven times before he got the steeping time perfect."
Anos snorted, but took another reverent sip. "Only you would torture a deity over tea leaves."
"What can I say?" I raised my cup in toast. "I have standards."
Anos's laughter echoed through the chamber, rich and unguarded—a rare sound from the Demon King of Tyranny. "Hah! You really do have impossible standards," he said, shaking his head in amusement.
I swirled my tea with a smirk. "If it's not the best, it's not worth my time."
From the shadows, Claire's whisper carried a determined edge: "I'll master this brew if it takes me a thousand years..."
Anos leaned back in his chair. "So," he said, crimson eyes gleaming, "anything interesting happening in this little paradise of yours?"
I took a slow sip. "Nothing world-ending... yet. But the near future looks promising."
Anos' smirk mirrored mine as he caught the familiar glint in my eyes—the one that usually heralded cosmic-scale mischief. "'Near future,' huh?"
I set my cup down with a deliberate click. "Mhm. So, how are Sasha and Misha? Doing well?"
Anos chuckled, swirling his tea. "They're fine. Still pissed at you for that one time."
"Oh come on," I groaned, running a hand through my hair. "It's been what, fifteen thousand years? They're still hung up on that?"
"Hah! Yes. Particularly about how you won." His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement.
I grinned unrepentantly. "I'd just gotten that new power—had to test it out!"
Anos arched a brow. "I understand experimentation. But did you really need to disintegrate their clothes?"
"They wouldn't surrender!" I threw up my hands. "What was I supposed to do? Let them keep attacking? You of all people should understand—sometimes you need a dramatic finish."
He considered this, then smirked. "Well... I wouldn't have complained in your position."
"HA! See?" I jabbed a finger at him. "Exactly why it was the most peaceful resolution available!"
Anos stood abruptly, his chair scraping back. "I should head out."
"What? Already?"
"Things to do," he said, magic already coiling around him. "Just dropped by to check on you."
As the teleportation spell ignited, I called out: "Alright, I'll visit when things calm down here. Give everyone my best!"
His laughter lingered in the air after he vanished: "They'll hate that."
Eve materialized beside me. "Master," she said through gritted teeth, "the containment barriers are at 89% failure. Could you please seal your aura?"
"Oh, right. Was I at 50% again?" I winced, rubbing the back of my neck. "Sorry, got carried away with the reunion."
Closing my eyes, I focused inward. The ground trembled slightly as energy coiled back into my core—like retracting a milions invisible tidal waves. After a full minute of concentration, the pressure lifted.
"There," I exhaled. "Better?"
"0.000000000001% output. Well done, Master." She gave a slow clap.
Claire emerged from the shadows, her usually composed face etched with rare curiosity. She bowed deeply. "Your Majesty... may I ask a question?"
"Shoot."
"If your power is truly so catastrophic..." She gestured to the intact gardens. "Why haven't I disintegrated? Why does this estate still stand?"
I smirked, plucking a rose that instantly regrew from its stem. "See those?" I pointed to empty air. At my touch, a microscopic lattice of golden light flickered into visibility—a fractal web surrounding every brick, leaf, and strand of Claire's hair. "Atomic-scale barriers. Seven hundred layers per square nanometer."
Claire's eyes widened as she realized: "You've... wrapped reality itself in protective filters."
"Bingo." The rose in my hand crystallized into diamond for emphasis. "You're all walking around inside my personal safety bubble."
Eve sighed. "A bubble that costs 12% of my processing power to maintain."
"Worth it." I flicked the diamond rose into the fountain—which promptly turned to ash. "Mostly."