Months passed, and the seasons at Kent Farm quietly turned.
Clark had shot up another few inches, his superhuman strength growing harder to control. Jonathan and Lock had to reinforce the front door after Clark, in a burst of excitement, accidentally sent it flying thirty feet.
Dio's fundamentals were sharpening too.
Though he'd never admit he was working hard, he'd sometimes sneak out at night to practice by the creek behind Lock's back, collapsing on the pebbles, gasping, only when his mental energy was drained.
Yup.
Caught red-handed by Lock a few times, his butt nearly got tanned as punishment for staying out late.
But the payoff was clear: his time-stop ability was far more reliable now, no longer dependent on emotional spikes to fuel his mental energy.
As for Saint—
Or rather, Saraphiel—his growth was astonishingly fast.
Just a few months old, he was already starting to babble.
His first word? "Daddy."
Lock couldn't have been prouder.
---
Morning.
Lock crouched on the porch, tying his boots, while Saraphiel played at his feet, tugging at a strand of wheat.
"Dio," he said without looking up, "I'm heading to the test field to plant sorghum today. You're on Saraphiel duty—teach him to walk."
"Huh?" Dio, leaning against the doorframe munching an apple, frowned. "Why me?"
"Because you're his big brother."
Lock stood, brushing dirt off his pants. "What, can't handle a baby?"
Reverse psychology always worked on Dio.
"Tch." He chucked the apple core into the trash and strode over, hoisting Saraphiel by the back of his collar. "Fine, I'll teach him. But if he falls, don't blame me."
With The World around, you'd let Saraphiel fall?
Lock smirked, slinging a hoe over his shoulder and heading to the fields.
Moments later, in the yard…
Dio directed The World to set Saraphiel on the ground, arms crossed with a huff. "Listen up, you dumb little brother. Walking's easy—stand up, then move your legs."
Saraphiel tilted his head, black eyes blinking.
"…"
"Dio, you're such an idiot," Dio muttered, shaking his head at himself. "You're seriously telling a baby to copy you—"
"?!"
Hold up, I was just talking smack.
Dio stared, stunned, at Saraphiel.
The baby was actually mimicking him, pushing up with tiny hands, shakily lifting his butt to stand.
"Oh?" Dio's red eyes narrowed. He deliberately took two steps to the left.
Saraphiel wobbled after him, nearly falling but somehow stumbling forward with actual steps.
Dio's lips twitched upward.
He snapped to his feet, crossing his arms in his signature pose. "Like this—arms crossed!"
Swaying unsteadily, Saraphiel tried mimicking the pose, his little hands fumbling.
And… plop. He sat hard on the ground.
"Tch, dumb little brother."
Dio scoffed but reached down to pick him up. "Again!"
This time, Saraphiel nailed it—sort of. His tiny hands barely crossed his chest, but it was a mini version of the pose.
Dio cracked a grin, his smile stretching ear to ear. He crouched low, pulling back his right fist dramatically. "Muda—!"
"Woo-da!" Saraphiel squeaked, swinging a soft little fist and nearly toppling over.
Snap!
The golden Stand appeared instantly, catching him. Dio froze, surprised at his own reflex.
"…"
He scratched his blond hair in irritation, then lit up with an idea. "Hey, kid, watch this—"
His golden Stand materialized behind him, striking the iconic pose alongside him. "The World!"
Saraphiel's eyes gleamed with a faint golden spark. He pointed clumsily skyward. "Wa-wa-la!"
"Pfft." Dio burst out laughing. "It's The World, you dumb little brother."
"Say it," he said, impulsively crouching and pinching Saraphiel's cheeks to correct his pronunciation. "Di-o Bro-ther."
Saraphiel drooled, babbling, "Di-da… da!"
"Wrong!"
"Da!"
"Forget it."
Staring into Saraphiel's eyes, Dio lowered his voice. "Muda."
Saraphiel blinked, then opened his mouth. "Woo-woo-da!"
It was slurred, but close enough!
"And 'briefs'?" Dio whispered. "Weak, weak—"
"Dio! What are you teaching Saraphiel?!" Clark's voice boomed from beyond the fence. Fresh from helping Martha haul milk buckets, he gaped at the scene.
Caught in the act, Dio shot up, ears red. "None of your business!"
"You're teaching the baby to say 'muda'?!" Clark vaulted the fence effortlessly, incredulous. "Mom says the words babies learn early are super important!"
"Then you teach him." Dio, fuming, shoved Clark toward Saraphiel. "Go on, Clark."
"Ahem, Saraphiel," Clark said, awkwardly crouching with his friendliest smile. "Say it with me: Clar-k Bro-ther!"
"…"
Saraphiel stared at Clark for two seconds, then his little mouth puckered—
"Waaaah!"
A deafening wail echoed across the farm.
Clark panicked. "Wait! Don't cry! Dio, what's wrong with him?!"
Dio smirked, arms crossed. "Looks like the kid doesn't like you, Clark."
Sure enough, Saraphiel cried harder, reaching for Dio with teary eyes, looking utterly wronged.
Dio clicked his tongue but bent down to scoop him up.
The crying stopped instantly.
Saraphiel grabbed a lock of Dio's blond hair, giggling and repeating, "Muda… muda!"
Clark: "…"
Dio: "…Hmph."
He turned away, lips twitching upward, a plan forming. He leaned in, whispering, "Follow me: Clar-k Big-Dum-my."
"Ca-la… da-ben!"
Dio froze for three seconds, then roared with laughter. "Hahaha! One more time, Saraphiel!"
Giggling, Saraphiel tried again. "Da-ben…"
"Arghhh!" Clark, unable to take the blow, covered his face and bolted toward the fields, wailing, "Uncle Lock! Dio's corrupting the baby!!"
---
"What?!"
"Dio's teaching Saraphiel to say 'muda'?!" Lock thundered. "Why not 'ora'?!"
"…"
"Uncle Lock?!"
"Ahem, sorry, Clark."
Lock patted Clark's shoulder, barely stifling a laugh.
Clark sniffled, eyes brimming with mock tears. "Saraphiel, he—"
"Don't worry, I'll talk to Saraphiel tonight," Lock said seriously, nodding. "How could his Clark brother be a dummy? He's clearly the smartest kid around."
Clark calmed a bit, wiping nonexistent tears and heading back to the house. Halfway there, he turned back. "Uncle Lock!"
"Yeah?"
"Will Saraphiel like me?"
Lock paused, then said earnestly, "Of course he will, Clark."
"You're the little sun in our farm's life."
Clark's face lit up. He nodded vigorously and ran off.
Watching the boy's retreating figure, Lock finally let out a chuckle. "They both love Saraphiel."
Yeah…
Who wouldn't love a baby like that?
For Lock, Saraphiel was practically a lucky charm, bringing a kind of parental privilege—
The Mountain of the Eight Trigrams.
Its boost was incredible.
Whether it was injuries from that big fight or minor scrapes from daily life, everything healed rapidly on Lock's body.
Sometimes, he could even push past his time-stop limit in frozen time, hitting six or seven seconds!
Now, with just his raw physical strength, he could easily lift a pickup truck.
All of this was the Mountain's subtle influence—a massive, epic-level power-up!
But what Lock valued most?
The Mountain's boost hadn't turned him into some hulking brute.
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