POV: Rygar Adoldia
I think that, with my short — yet very rewarding — experience as a father, I can say with absolute certainty that raising children isn't as hard as people make it out to be.
Seriously… it's overrated.
Of course this opinion comes with a huge asterisk: I'm the only idiot who uses magic to make his kids float, warm bottles, and clean diapers with chantless magic.
It's convenient, you can't deny it. But, honestly, there were still many surprises all at once.
My children were anything but ordinary. There was always something new, strange, or simply unbelievable happening with them. And, somehow, I had gotten used to it.
At this very moment, I was sitting in an armchair in the main room, watching my red-haired daughter calmly play with a strand of my hair.
Iris — my little fiery girl.
She swung her short little arms, trying to wrap her fingers around the strands and smiled every time she managed to pull out a tuft bigger than she should have.
"Careful there… if you pull it out again, I'll have to invent hair-regeneration magic."
She answered with a sweet little giggle, obviously understanding nothing.
My hair was actually getting a bit long. Maybe I'd cut it soon — although Eris had made it very clear she liked it that way.
Diana was sitting on the rug near me.
Dead-fish eyes, as Eris called them — but, honestly, I thought it was adorable.
And in the center of the room, two little ones were locked in a titanic conflict that would make the generals of the Iron Legion ashamed of their feats.
"Baaah!"
"Raaaah!"
"Bahh!"
They were Perseu and Aurora.
That's right. Aurora was fighting. Or, well… "fighting" within the limits of two babies who could barely crawl.
Perseu, of course, had the physical advantage. He was older, and naturally born strong, but Aurora wasn't the kind of girl who accepted losing.
Suddenly, the air around her vibrated. Her little golden eyes flashed, and pop! — she vanished, reappearing behind Perseu.
She grabbed her brother's ear. Perseu let out an indignant baby babble.
Since birth, Aurora had shown an abnormal talent — in every possible sense. Over the months, I came to better understand the peculiarities of my youngest daughter with Verdia.
She was very special.
Her green hair was indisputable proof of the Laplace Factor and, as if that weren't enough, she was born a Miko, just like her mother. She was born with the Teleportation ability.
A rather problematic ability if not properly controlled. One second she was on the rug, the next she was hanging from the curtain.
She was also born with two Demon Eyes that, until then, hadn't shown any use.
Her body, however, was different from mine.
While the Laplace Factor in me strengthened my physique and mana more or less equally, her enhancement was primarily in magic, with only a slight physical increase.
Like Rudeus Greyrat, she didn't possess a single trace of Touki in her body. Her muscles, bones, and nerves simply rejected internal mana reinforcement.
A girl born of the Beast God and the Soothsayer Miko.
Half beast, half elf, with the Laplace Factor, with a Miko Power, Demon Eyes and not a drop of Touki. Perhaps there was no one in the whole world with a constitution so unique.
And, to complete the package, she was very mischievous. But in a different way from her older brother.
While Perseu was a little walking earthquake, Aurora had a look like she was always waiting for the perfect opportunity to cause chaos.
Honestly, I think that was both frightening and adorable at the same time.
I would have to guide her carefully… but I also knew she would be extraordinary.
I took a deep breath, looking back at Iris.
Iris was… different.
Or maybe, come to think of it, she was the standard of ordinary people — what one would consider a normal child amid that coalition of absurd prodigies I call my children.
At first glance, Iris had nothing extraordinary about her.
She was simply born… cute.
Absolutely, indescribably, dangerously cute.
Of course, I would never admit that out loud, but in my opinion, she was the cutest of my children.
But that was it.
Eris, naturally, was a bit disappointed when she realized Iris had no special talents.
I think she expected all my children to be casting spells, tearing mountains apart and teleporting around the house.
But I managed to convince her it was still too early to draw conclusions.
To be fair, it wasn't a lie.
Most children only begin to show aptitudes around two or three years old — some only manifest a real gift in adolescence.
So, it was good to be patient.
Obviously, deep down, I wished she had some talent. Any.
Not out of ambition, but because I knew very well what comparisons between siblings could cause.
I was an only child for a long time, until Ruby was born. The age gap between us was big enough to avoid disputes — she saw me more as a protective figure than a rival.
But my children didn't have that luck. All were born practically in the same generation, and I knew that, sooner or later, comparisons would come.
"Why is he stronger?"
"Why can she use magic?"
"Why can't I do the same?"
That kind of thinking can corrode even the purest heart.
So, if possible, I wanted Iris to have something — something that was just hers.
For now, the only notable quality she demonstrated was a fascination with magic. She loved watching spells.
But what really enchanted her was seeing Aurora teleporting.
She laughed, clapped her hands, and sometimes even tried to imitate her, closing her eyes and straining, as if she too would disappear at any moment.
As I watched that scene, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Eris entered the room.
She was sweating, wearing those training clothes that, inevitably, drew attention. The tight fabric outlined her curves in a way… hard to ignore.
I tried to keep my gaze on her eyes. I tried.
"Rygar," she began, "Nina will be off training for a while. She's close to giving birth."
I nodded normally.
"All right."
Eris walked straight past the sofa, into the next room looking for a towel, and shouted from inside:
"Ah! Taes managed to track down one of those Milis fanatics' bases! Verdia wants to lead the attack to test her combat strength."
I frowned slightly.
"I'll talk to Verdia and Aisha about that…" I paused, thoughtful. "And did you manage to pressure Linia to advance to Saint level?"
Eris reappeared at the door, drying the sweat from her neck with the towel, and looked at me with an impatient scowl.
"That lazy one?" she snorted. "Even after almost dying, she didn't advance! I got so angry I dragged her and threw her into the Leaf Tigers' territory!"
The corner of my mouth involuntarily lifted.
I could perfectly imagine the scene — Linia complaining, trying to run away, and Eris dragging her by the hair, literally.
Linia was talented, no doubt. But too lazy, like Pursena. Although the latter had more motivation, Kilian. He simply didn't let Pursena slack off in training.
Linia, on the other hand, had no one to keep the metaphorical whip moving.
"She will survive," I murmured, propping my chin on my hand. "Maybe this will give her a reality check."
"Good if it does!" Eris retorted, puffing with impatience.
She then leaned down a little, brought her face close to mine and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.
"I'm going to take a bath," she said, turning and leaving with the same confident stride as always, her red ponytail swinging rhythmically.
Aurora, now quiet, was leaning against Perseu, almost asleep.
Iris watched the two with curious eyes, holding tightly to the tip of my sleeve.
And Diana… well, Diana seemed to be on another plane of existence, staring fixedly at the ceiling.
And then, the door opened again.
Verdia entered.
She came straight to me and the children.
Behind her was Leo — the Sacred Beast. He went straight to the children, lying down on the rug beside them.
In a few seconds, little hands were already pulling at his fur. Aurora settled on one of his paws, Perseu climbed his back as if it were a mountain, and Iris buried her face in the soft coat.
My three wives had completely different ways of dealing with the children.
Ghislaine, for example, was surprisingly attentive and calm.
She always seemed a little lost when the children did something unexpected, as if the child-behavior manual were an indecipherable enigma.
Still, she always tried to learn, and her quiet dedication was something I found… genuinely cute.
Eris, on the other hand, is very intense. Assertive, direct and — to put it politely — authoritarian. She was the strict mother, the one in charge of moral lessons and discipline.
When Perseu hit Diana a few months ago, it was Eris who put him in his place. She made him understand perfectly where he fit into the house's chain of command.
Since then, Perseu never raised his fist at his sisters without reason, as he used to.
He could be a little hurricane when he wanted, but a look from Eris was enough for him to remember the trauma.
Still, behind all that rigidity, it was easy to see her affection and concern.
Eris treated all the children as if they were hers.
There was a fierce, protective love in everything she did, and I knew that better than anyone.
And then, there was Verdia.
She approached me with her usual smile, leaned over and gave me a soft kiss.
After that, she crouched down and went straight to play with the children.
In moments, all their attention was captured by the golden-haired elf.
Verdia was incredibly good with children. She had that calm and gentle way.
Officially, she was the "responsible" one for entertaining the little ones when chaos took over the house.
She wasn't strict at all; she let the children explore, fall, get dirty. It was as if she wanted them to discover the world in their own way.
Besides them, there was also Aisha.
She lived in constant contact with all of us; despite not being an "official" part of the family, she was a presence in daily life.
Aisha had her own way of dealing with each person in the house — somehow always the right way.
She knew when to be sweet, when to be firm, when to speak and when to observe.
One couldn't say Aisha had ulterior motives, but it was evident that she was always analyzing, understanding the environment around her, interpreting every detail.
Not even Eris, Ghislaine and Verdia were exempt.
And neither was I.
Anyway, Verdia ended up telling me about her request: to personally lead an attack against a group of Milis fanatics.
Taes would be present, which took some worries away.
Verdia seemed confident; her main motivation was to train and get used to her new combat strength in real battle.
I saw no problem with that.
Aisha had also decided to participate for the same reason.
But I suspected Aisha was hiding her true strength.
Still, it wasn't something truly important.
With everything settled, I rose slowly, stretching my shoulders.
Verdia was still playing with the children; it was time for me to return to my training.
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