A few days passed peacefully after the incident in the mountains.
Life within the Blackthorne estate slowly returned to its usual rhythm. The tension that once lingered in the air had softened, replaced by an unspoken sense of anticipation—as if something unseen was quietly preparing to bloom.
In the Blackthorne Sword Hall, Aurelian stood alone in his personal training space.
His breathing was steady.
His stance was firm.
Steel cut through the air again and again—horizontal, vertical, diagonal—each strike precise, controlled, and deliberate. His sword no longer wavered the way it once had. The hesitation that had haunted his movements before the bandit battle was gone.
Real combat changes you, he thought. It forces the truth out of your body.
Sweat dripped down his temples as he completed another sequence of forms. He exhaled slowly and prepared to begin again—
"Y-Young Master!"
Aurelian paused mid-motion.
He turned as a maid hurried toward him, her face flushed with excitement. Her steps were quick, almost bouncing, as though she could barely contain the news she carried.
"Yes?" Aurelian asked, lowering his sword.
The maid bowed deeply, a wide smile spreading across her face.
"My lady—the Duchess—she is with child."
For a moment, the words didn't register.
"…What?" Aurelian blinked.
The maid beamed. "The Duchess is pregnant, Young Master! The physicians confirmed it this morning! The entire estate is celebrating!"
The world seemed to tilt.
His sword slipped from his hand and clattered softly against the floor.
Mother… pregnant?
A heartbeat passed.
Then—
Aurelian ran.
He did not wait for explanations. He did not ask questions. He simply turned and sprinted out of the Sword Hall, boots pounding against the stone corridors as servants stared in surprise.
His chest felt strangely tight.
Not from fear.
From something warm.
Something unfamiliar.
In my previous life… I had no one, he thought as he ran. No parents. No home.
His steps grew faster.
But now…
---
Aurelian stopped before the door to his mother's chamber.
He raised his hand—and knocked.
"Come in," a gentle voice replied from inside.
He opened the door.
The room was bathed in soft sunlight. Curtains swayed gently as warm air flowed in through the open window.
His father sat beside the bed, posture relaxed yet dignified.
And there—
His mother lay resting against soft pillows, her silver hair spread loosely around her shoulders, her expression calm and radiant.
The moment she saw him, her lips curved into a gentle smile.
"Aurelian," she said warmly.
He approached slowly, eyes flickering between them.
"Is it… true?" he asked quietly.
Aria nodded, one hand resting over her abdomen.
"Yes," she said softly. "You're going to have a younger sibling."
The words echoed in his mind.
Younger sibling.
Something inside his chest expanded.
He smiled.
A real one.
Not restrained.
Not forced.
"I'm happy," he said honestly.
Aria's smile deepened.
Aurelian sat on the edge of the bed beside her, careful not to disturb her. She reached out and gently touched his cheek.
'In this life… I have a family,' he thought. 'A father. A mother. And now… someone new.'
'I'll protect them,' his mind continued firmly. 'No matter what this world throws at me.'
They spoke quietly for a while.
Aria asked him about his training, about his health. Aurelian told her about his progress in magic and swordsmanship, carefully avoiding graphic details. She listened attentively, her gaze full of warmth and pride.
Then—
Alaric spoke.
"How do you feel," he asked calmly, "about what happened in the mountains?"
The air shifted.
Aria immediately turned toward him.
"Alaric—" she began.
"It's fine," Aurelian said gently, interrupting her.
Both parents looked at him.
He lowered his gaze for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
'I won't lie,' he thought. 'Not to them.'
"I was scared," he admitted. "It wasn't easy. And I didn't understand at first."
Aria's fingers tightened slightly against the bedsheet.
"But," Aurelian continued, lifting his head, "I know now that I had to do it."
Alaric's eyes sharpened slightly.
"If I want to grow stronger," Aurelian said calmly, "if I want to protect this family… then I can't avoid reality."
Aria bit her lip.
"I don't regret it," Aurelian added. "It was painful—but it didn't break me."
Alaric's lips curved faintly.
Aria turned sharply and slapped his hand lightly.
"Don't smile like that," she scolded, tears threatening to return. "This isn't something to be proud of."
Alaric accepted it without complaint.
But Aria's next words were softer.
"…Still," she said quietly, "I'm grateful."
Aurelian looked at her.
"I prayed that day," Aria whispered. "That the battle wouldn't steal your heart. That you wouldn't lose yourself."
She closed her eyes briefly.
"Thank the gods it didn't."
Aurelian smiled gently.
"It won't," he said.
They spoke a little more—about the future, about the child, about mundane things that felt precious precisely because they were ordinary.
Eventually, Aurelian stood.
"I'll leave you to rest," he said respectfully.
Aria nodded.
"Come again soon," she said.
"I will."
He bowed slightly to his father and left the room.
---
After the door closed, silence filled the chamber.
Aria leaned back against the pillows, exhaling softly.
"He's grown," she said quietly.
Alaric nodded.
"He has."
Aria turned to him.
"Promise me," she said seriously. "No matter how strong he becomes… don't forget that he's still our son."
Alaric reached for her hand.
"I won't," he said.
For a rare moment—
Two proud parents sat together, thinking about their children and the future that awaited them.
And outside, the world of Noctyrr continued to turn—unaware that something far greater was slowly being born within the walls of Blackthorne.