"I-It's a boy, my Lord!" a woman shouted, her voice trembling with joy. She appeared to be middle-aged, somewhere between forty and fifty. Her appearance was simple—plain dress, hair tied into a neat ponytail. Yet the warmth in her voice lit the hall like sunlight.
The man she addressed stood like a mountain, towering at 6'6 with a muscular frame. His crimson red hair and piercing blue eyes marked him unmistakably as an Asheensteel.
The Asheensteel family. A name etched into history—renowned for absolute power and a legacy woven through fire and steel. Be they mage or knight, the Asheensteel line had birthed countless legends—each pivotal in securing humanity's independence.
Blessed by the Primordial Gods, feared by the Abyssal Demons, their crimson hair was the blood-earned mark of their heritage, while their blue eyes reflected a soul pure, unwavering, and loyal to kin.
They ruled a dukedom carved from the ashes of fallen foes—the last line of defense of the Anamea Empire.
Few in number, but each as mighty as an army, the Asheensteels held influence not just within Aramea, but across the western continent. Though scattered, they all called Anamea home—the land where their roots grew, and their ancestors once bled.
They were an independent force. Even emperors and warlords knew: never cross an Asheensteel.
The man gave a faint smile. "How is Lyna?" he asked, voice steady despite the weight in his chest.
"My Lord, do not worry," the maid said with confidence. "After all, she is a Varament. They're tough. I've known her since she was smaller than your son is now. A birth like this? Nothing to her."
Her name was Anne, the family's longtime caretaker. She had served the Varament's since her youth and had raised Lyna and her siblings like her own.
The Varament family—in many ways, the mirror opposite of the Asheensteels. Feared by the Primordial Gods, blessed by the Abyssal Demons. Though they shared appearance—crimson hair and piercing eyes—their spiritual bloodlines diverged sharply.
According to legend, both families were cursed, barred from crossing each other's continents. But the Abyssal Demons retaliated by placing the same curse upon the Asheensteel's, locking both sides in eternal balance.
Yet somehow—Barius Asheensteel and Lyna Varament found a way.
Thanks to Barius's innate ability, a rare gift that could bend the rules of reality itself—he could create a personal dimension once a month. A space where time and law bowed to his will.
There, they met. Lived. Loved.
And now—on this sacred day—she had given birth to their son.
"I know, I know…" Barius muttered as he approached the room. As he drew near, he braced himself for a cry.
But he heard none.
Instead… he heard laughter.
The light, innocent laughter of a newborn.
He stepped closer—and saw him.
A child with piercing blue eyes and wisps of crimson hair. A perfect blend of two great lineages. In the western lands, he would be known as an Asheensteel. In the east, a Varament.
Even within the sealed dimension, the mana surged, pooling around the newborn like a divine omen.
"His aura… it's just like yours, my love," said the woman lying in the bed. Her crimson hair cascaded around her, and her sapphire eyes gleamed with pride.
Lyna Varament. The strongest of her generation.
And beside her stood Barius Asheensteel, his eyes fixed on his son—his heart straining under the weight of joy and dread. Slowly, he knelt, his hand caressing the infant's cheek.
"My son… Kasimir."
He bent to kiss both child and mother.
"Kasimir Asheensteel. A name fit for a future patriarch."
Lyna smiled softly, though her breath began to slow.
"Don't forget… teach him not just the Asheensteel tongue… but the Varament's too."
Her hands gripped his—weak, but firm with love.
"I will. I swear," Barius whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. "Your blood runs through him. The Asheensteels… we never betray our own. My brothers, his cousins—they'll protect him."
He knew this moment would come. He had feared it since the day she conceived. And now, holding his son, he felt powerless in a way he never had before.
"My son… my beautiful son… forgive me," Lyna whispered.
"I knew I might die without knowing you. But now… I don't regret it. I got to see you, to hold you. Please… forgive this selfish mother…"
Barius was silent. Though his power eclipsed nations, here… he could only listen. His silence echoed in the air, timeless and still.
Then, with a final smile, Lyna spoke her last words.
"My love… I love you."
Her eyes closed.
Barius's widened.
The dimension shook.
His aura exploded outward, filling the entire realm with divine pressure. Anne collapsed, unconscious, overwhelmed by the weight of his grief.
The void trembled. But just as Barius was about to lose control—
"D-da…"
The soft voice pierced through the rising chaos.
His son. Kasimir.
Laughter followed—a sweet, innocent laugh that stilled the storm inside Barius's soul.
He looked at the boy, tears finally falling.
In a heartbeat, he held his son close, while the still form of his wife lay behind him.
With a snap, Anne reappeared, eyes dazed from the teleportation spell Barius had triggered.
"Take her… take Lyna back to the Varaments…"
And in another snap, both Anne and the body vanished—returned to the east.
His gaze turned cold.
"Serenoth."
A rift tore open in space. Armor materialized over Barius's form—a suit painted with the stars and void, shimmering with cosmic fire.
Kasimir's eyes widened. This was his first memory of his father.
One that would never fade.
⸻
To be continued.