It has been nine months, and the time has come.

I cannot believe the day is finally here.

Today is the Month Ove, 3rd day, year 1673.

And my wife is screaming her lungs out.

The dimly lit corridor outside our bedroom seems to stretch endlessly as I stand here, my anxiety veiled behind a facade of calmness. The air is thick with anticipation, and my gaze periodically drifts toward the closed door, behind which my wife, Mia, is in the company of the Vivamancer Faeryn, who plays the role of her midwife. Faeryn, under my instructions and the weight of a veiled threat, assumes the guise of a wandering Vivamancer I have allegedly hired for this momentous occasion.

By my side stands Fred, my loyal attendant and officer of the militia guard, his stoic expression offering a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. His hand rests reassuringly on my shoulder as he speaks in a hushed tone, "Lord, everything will be fine. Lady Mia is in good hands, and Faeryn is skilled in her craft."

I nod, feigning a smile as I reply, "Of course, Fred. I'm not worried at all. Mia is strong, and Faeryn is a Sorceress. This is just a routine affair." My words are an attempt to convince not only Fred but also myself.

As we wait, a subtle tension lingers in the air, but I can't shake the strange desire for something out of the ordinary to occur. It is quite a divergence from my usual attitude. Deep within, hidden beneath the layers of responsibility and commitment, a clandestine hope simmers—an unforeseen challenge that would allow me an escape from the shackles of marital duty.

I cast a casual glance down the corridor, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows on the walls. "You know, Fred," I muse, trying to mask my underlying thoughts, "I almost wish for some excitement. Maybe a bandit, powerful and audacious, or perhaps a mythical beast with nine tails. Heck, even an overpowered sorcerer looking for a fight. Wouldn't that be a story to tell?"

Fred raises an eyebrow but maintains his composed demeanor. "My lord, you jest. This is a joyous occasion. Lady Mia is giving you an heir, a continuation of your esteemed bloodline."

"Of course, Fred, you're right," I chuckle, but the notion of an unforeseen spectacle lingers in the recesses of my mind. The prospect of facing a formidable foe, overcoming them, and then conveniently faking my own demise as a heroic sacrifice presents itself as an enticing escape plan—one that would absolve me from the responsibilities that this marriage has somehow Mia forced in me.

The night hangs over my estate like a velvet curtain, the cool breeze rustling through the leaves, whispering secrets of the impending arrival of my flesh and blood. As the moon casts a silvery glow, the air carries a sense of anticipation, mingling with an underlying tension that seems to seep into every corner of the halls where the torchlight continues to flicker like the beating of my heart.

"Aaaagh," Mia screams at the top of her lungs. "Hoo~ hah, hoo~"

"Breath," Faeryn encourages her. "You can do it, breath!"

My attention is divided between the distant wails of my wife in pain, echoing from the closed bedroom door. Meanwhile, I engage Fred with idle conversation, my trusted attendant, on the status of the militia. Mia's screams reverberate through the otherwise serene night, each one a reminder of the consequences of choices made and bargains struck.

I turn to Fred, a shadow of concern flickering across his face. "How fares the militia, Fred? I've been pushing them hard with drills and exercises. We need to be ready for anything," I say, attempting to mask the ADHD in me… I really feel like suddenly running now for some reason.

Fred nods solemnly, his eyes reflecting the weight of the responsibility bestowed upon him. "The militia has shown considerable improvement, my lord. The training has honed their skills. We have amassed a formidable force over the past two months."

I glance at him, curiosity furrowing my brow. "How many soldiers have we gathered since the last count?"

Fred hesitates for a moment before responding, "We've reached a total of 500, my lord. The recruits have been diligent in their training, but we cease recruiting yesterday, as per your orders."

I raise an eyebrow, my gaze shifting back to the closed door, behind which Mia endures the painful consequences of our tumultuous union. "Ceased recruiting? Why? We need more strength, more numbers to secure our territory."

Fred meets my gaze with a determined look. "My lord, the militia is well-prepared and disciplined. Adding more recruits now might dilute the quality we've worked hard to achieve. Quality over quantity, as you've instructed."

I sigh, torn between the impending challenge within and the strategic decisions outside. "Very well, Fred. It seems contradictory considering it is me who ordered the militia to stop recruiting. Quality it is! Let's ensure our current force is razor-sharp and ready for any unforeseen circumstances. Tonight might bring more than just the cries of pain from within these walls."

The night air lingers with the echoes of Mia's screams, but suddenly, it falls silent. Faeryn opens the door ajar, her head peeking through, and her eyes meet mine.

"Lord, the birthing is complete," she says, her voice carrying a mix of relief and joy. "Your wife has given birth to twins, a boy and a girl."

I feel a surge of conflicting emotions as I step inside the room. Mia lies there, exhausted but radiant, cradling the two tiny beings in her arms. My heart is in turmoil, a whirlwind of pride, anxiety, and an unspoken fear of the responsibilities that now rest upon my shoulders.

I approach Mia, my voice soft, "Twins, Mia? A boy and a girl?"

She smiles through exhaustion, a mother's love evident in her gaze. "Yes, my love. Our little miracles," she whispers, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of happiness and weariness.

I watch in awe as Mia begins to breastfeed the two little midgets, their tiny hands instinctively finding their way. The room is filled with the tender sounds of newborns, the weight of parenthood settling in the air. As I stand there, an unspoken vow takes root within me—to protect, provide, and navigate the complexities of this new chapter. The future unfolds in the form of two fragile lives, and with a deep breath, I embrace the profound changes that accompany the arrival of our twins.

Of course, I must also ensure this two grows loved, and very normal.

I stand there quietly, not wanting to disturb the serene scene as Mia feeds our two newborns. The room is filled with the soft sounds of suckling, a lullaby of the beginning of life. When Mia finishes feeding and the babies drift into sleep, she looks at me with playful eyes.

Mia's playful gaze meets mine, and she smirks, "This is unexpected even to me, to think I will give birth to two children... I did say we'll create a child with Hero-Class potential, but I wonder which among these two has it?" She smiles almost wickedly. "Aah... To think my Fate Magic has failed me now of all times."

I respond with a smirk of my own, "Don't ruin this moment, wife." Walking over to her, I admire the two sleeping infants in her arms. The girl, one of them, opens her eyes droopily while stretching her pinkish hand. I reach to her with my finger, and she grabs it, shakes it, and squeals joyfully.

Mia laughs, "Seems like someone's already full of energy."

I smile, "They're perfect, Mia. Our legacy." And to be severely specific… my very own 'normal' legacy.

Mia looks at me, a softness in her eyes, as we share a moment of quiet joy amidst the newborn innocence. The weight of responsibility and the uncertainties of the future momentarily fade away in the presence of our twins.

The room is filled with the sudden cry of the boy, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere. Mia's eyes widen with panic, uncertainty etched on her face. Her background as a former princess and a warmonger doesn't equip her with the knowledge of child-rearing. I sense magic power coalesce around her, but it quickly dissipates. Perhaps she's attempting to use her precognition and Fate Magic to deduce what to do, but it's futile given her recent childbirth and weakened state.

"R-ran, I... I don't know what to do," Mia stammers, desperation in her voice.

I step forward, a calm assurance in my tone, "Mia, let me take care of him."

Gently, I take the crying boy from her arms, exchanging him with the curious girl I had cradled. As I hold the boy, a sense of vulnerability washes over me, realizing that this tiny being is now under my care.

"He might be cold," I murmur more to myself than anyone else. Turning to Faeryn, who has been observing the situation, I request, "Faeryn, could you please get me some towels?"

Faeryn nods, understanding the urgency, and hurries to fetch the towels. Meanwhile, Mia, still recovering, looks uncertain with the little girl in her arms.

"Faeryn, help Mia with the little girl and cover her with a towel too," I instruct, acknowledging the need to ensure both infants are comfortable.

Faeryn nods again, a competent presence as she approaches Mia and assists her with the girl. The room becomes a flurry of gentle movements, a symphony of care and concern for our newborns. In this moment of uncertainty, the bond of our makeshift family strengthens, and we navigate the challenges of parenthood together.

.....

....

...

..

.

I turn to Faeryn, a sense of gratitude in my expression, "You're dismissed from your duties. You're free to go as you like."

She meets my gaze with a hint of defiance, "I don't want to see you again."

With a nod, Faeryn leaves, and I understand that our paths may never cross again. I then turn my attention to Fred, who has been standing by, awaiting further instructions.

"You're free to go as well, Fred. I appreciate your assistance," I inform him.

"Thank you, my lord. If you ever need me again, I'll be at your service," Fred replies, offering a respectful bow before making his exit.

Now left alone with my family of four, I focus on ensuring their comfort. I cradle both children in my arms and realize I need to build another crib. Turning to a few nearby servants, I call out, "Prepare another crib. We need it immediately."

The servants nod and quickly set about their task, fetching the necessary materials to construct the crib. In a flurry, the servants has quickly provided me with another crib. Though they took the joy away from me personally building it, I should be satisfied enough with it… After all, my babies need their rest.

I gently place both infants into their current cribs, ensuring they are comfortable and secure.

Turning my attention to Mia, I speak softly, "Rest. The servants are changing the bed sheets for you."

She smiles appreciatively, fatigue evident in her eyes, "Thank you."

As the servants work diligently to create a comfortable environment for my family, a sense of responsibility settles within me. As a very normal lord, normal husband, and normal father, I set my own expectations for the future.

As the servants complete their tasks, I dismiss them with a nod of appreciation. The room falls into a calm hush, and I decide to watch over my family throughout the night.

Mia lies in peaceful slumber, her features relaxed in the soft glow of moonlight. I sit by her side, an unspoken promise to guard her rest.

The little ones, occasionally stirred from their sleep, gaze at me with wide, beautiful blue eyes—the same captivating eyes as their mother. Their innocence resonates, and I find myself captivated by the familial connection.

Sleep holds little importance to me tonight. With a whispered incantation, I cast my magic, the words resonating softly, "I believe." The magical energy envelops me, providing the strength to weather through the night without the constraints of exhaustion.

The room remains tranquil, and I settle into a silent vigil, a guardian watching over the harmony of my growing family. Each soft breath and every flutter of tiny eyelashes becomes a cherished melody in the symphony of the night.

It has only been a short while, but I am already loving this family.

Mia suddenly wakes up, her eyes wide with alarm, and I immediately notice her sweating despite the midnight chill. Concerned, I move closer to her.

"What's wrong, Mia?" I inquire, my voice laced with worry.

Her breaths are rapid, and she speaks urgently, "My Fate Magic just activated in instinct. There's an assassin coming for me tonight, a formidable sorcerer."

I take a deep breath, processing the gravity of her words. As a powerful Fatemancer, Mia's instincts are not to be taken lightly. Her premonitions often hold weight.

"Stay calm, Mia," I say, trying to soothe her frayed nerves. "We'll handle this."

Two paths unfold before me, each with its own weighty consequences. Do I protect my family with honesty, facing this threat head-on with all the seriousness it deserves? Or do I see this as an opportunity to stage my own demise, a chance to escape the unwanted responsibilities that now binds me?

I weigh the options carefully, torn between duty and personal liberation.

My eyes fall at the two infants, staring at each other, and rolling around. In the very short hours we are together even with Mia, and just the children alone, I feel like becoming so attached to them already— I have decided, I guess I want being a 'normal' father now after all.

I decide on a course of action. Though Mia is an accident, and an unwanted source of trouble for me, I begin to like the children that now share my flesh and blood.

With determination settling within me, I make a resolute decision. Despite the complexities and unwanted troubles Mia has brought, I can't deny the connection to the children we've brought into this world. In this moment, faced with a choice, I choose to love them.

My thoughts, as a Phantomancer, are the source of my magic, and in this instance, my resolve is unwavering. I focus on casting my magic, fortifying the <Phantom Barrier> that envelops my mansion. It needs to be stronger, its detection and stealth abilities enhanced.

Mia, noticing my actions, looks at me with concern, "What are you doing?"

"I'm strengthening the <Phantom Barrier>," I explain, my tone composed yet urgent. "Improving its detection and stealth capabilities."

As I continue my work, I turn to Mia, my mind focused but attentive, "Who is this assassin?"

Mia's expression grows serious, "They seem to be a Voidmancer, a Sorcerer Pathway specialist in space magic. The other person is quite formidable in spatial transfers."

A Voidmancer—a formidable adversary, indeed.

However, if I don't know your name, then you are just chump to me.

I clad myself in my familiar Mirage Cloak, feeling the presence of the intruder breach my strengthened <Phantom Barrier>. With practiced ease, I cast <Phantom Step>, materializing before the formidable Voidmancer. Using <Telekinesis>, I suspend myself in the air, a display of the potent Phantomancer magic—a manifestation of my thoughts into reality.

"Who are you?" I demand, my voice steady despite the intensity of the situation.

The Voidmancer looks fairly young. He meets my gaze with a steely resolve. "I come here to take the head of the criminal. Who are you?" Their tone is firm, unwavering.

The tension in the air crackles, two powerful forces poised for confrontation.

I square my shoulders, undeterred by the Voidmancer's arrogance. "Tell me your name, and I might tell mine."

The Voidmancer scoffs, a hint of arrogance in their voice. "I don't need to tell my name to someone who will die anyway." Their features become apparent—short brown hair, violet robes, and an unmistakable aura of powerful magic.

Unfazed, I retort, "I don't recognize you, so you must be just some chump." With a swift application of Phantomancy, I shroud the area, concealing the magical presence within. It's a tactical move to ensure that no one witnesses the powerful clash of sorcerers within my territory.

The Voidmancer narrows their eyes, a hint of suspicion in their gaze. "Since you don't wish to tell me where the criminal is, then it can only mean that you are abetting her."

I narrow my eyes, pressing for more information. "Who is she?"

The Voidmancer smirks in disdain, as if savoring my supposed ignorance. "I am here to kill the stain of the Empire, Miyandrel Celeste!" There's an expectation in his eyes, a belief that the revelation should elicit fear.

I scoff, dismissing his declaration. "So what? I don't even know someone with that name." The name means little to me now. She is no longer Miyandrel Celeste but Mia Dromastus, my wife. For a normal family to be happy, they need a mother, and I will not give her up.

The Voidmancer's anger simmers beneath his words as he explains, "You are a sorcerer yourself; you should have heard of her name. The Scourge of the World! The Witch of Fate!" His fist clenches in anger. "I am a liberator, the chosen executioner that the Empire sent to deal with her! Can you imagine the lives lost due to her work? She is a villain! Stop harboring her!"

I scoff at his accusations, countering with a dismissive tone, "If you are sent by the Empire, then you won't be coming here alone. The only reason you are alone is either that you are a hired thug, or you're a glory seeker who knows nothing better than what to do with his own life."

The Voidmancer's frustration surfaces, and he challenges, "Do you want to know who I am? Huh? Is that it?"

Mocking him, I retort, "Are you being prickly because I didn't tell you my name? You can learn it quite easily if you investigate just a little bit, but clearly, you came here very hurriedly. I wonder why? Let me sport you a wild guess... The Empire, in fact, doesn't want the death of Miyandrel Celeste."

His anger flares, and he demands, "You! What do you know about the politicking of the Imperial Court!?"

I delve into the political landscape, stating matter-of-factly, "That the current Emperor is too kind and doesn't want the death of his only remaining sister... The imperial court can be divided into three factions: the Imperial Faction represented by the Emperor, the Aristocratic Faction represented by the Four Great Dukes, and the Sorcerer Faction represented by the Three Sages. I wonder who among them sent you? It can only be the Sorcerer Faction, right?"

His anger intensifies, and he grits his teeth, "You... shut up..."

I decide to provoke the Voidmancer further, a daring move in the midst of our confrontation. "The Sorcerer Faction wishes to restructure the ruling system the Empire currently functions under... I know a lot, and I know more." I let a smirk play on my lips, reveling in the knowledge that comes from my unique perspective—knowing the epilogue of the novel <Hero Ender>.

"I admit, feudalism is a very flawed system. The Sorcerer Faction doesn't want feudalism anymore and wishes to replace it with what? The Three Sages are not rulers; they are just sorcerers. They don't know how to govern a country, not to mention an empire."

The Voidmancer, unable to contain his frustration, finally snaps. He summons multiple black orbs, each the length of a finger, and they pulsate with a power that seems to gouge space itself. "DIE!" he shouts, and the orbs come rushing at me with deadly intent.

I scoff at his attempt, confident in my abilities. "Pathetic." With a simple gesture, I take hold of the orbs mid-air, manipulating them with my telekinesis. Phantomancy, the magic that deals with illusion, allows me to control the very fabric of reality. In my past life, telekinesis was perceived as some kind of superpower, but in essence, it's just an illusion—illusions so potent they become the truth. I effortlessly dissipate the black orbs, defying reason with the ease that Phantomancy grants me.

The Voidmancer sneers, acknowledging my power. "I see, that's the reason why you are so confident. You are quite powerful too!" He boasts, a hint of arrogance in his tone. "But I graduated from the Sorcerer Academy at the top of my class! I have double degrees! I have a Master's degree in Space Studies and Gravitation!" In an instant, he disappears, utilizing spatial transfer.

I remain composed, a hint of amusement playing on my lips. "Hmmm..." I turn my head around and lock eyes with the Voidmancer, who has suddenly appeared behind me. He holds a still-beating heart in his hand.

"I just gouged your heart out, you foolish sorcerer," he declares triumphantly.

"Pathetic," I respond with a condescending smirk. "You should look at yourself."

The Voidmancer's confidence crumbles as he starts puking blood. He looks down and sees his chest with a gaping hole. "W-what? How?"

I reveal the truth with a scoff, "You just dug your own heart..." I smirk, reveling in the unfolding illusion. "You have fallen so easily under my illusions... that it is so sad." I let out a laugh. "You just killed yourself, you pathetic worm." The irony of the situation is not lost on me as I watch the consequences of his actions play out before my eyes.

This isn't normal, I am having too much fun!