Three months had passed by since Artoria first brought Bennett home as her child. Life at the estate had found a new, more chaotic rhythm. With a young girl, and two infants, the halls of the Gunnhildr mansion were filled with a symphony of childish laughter, the occasional squabble over toys, and the constant, reassuring presence of their mother.
Bennett, whom Artoria affectionately called 'Little Baby Benny,' had settled in as if he had been born there. He was a cheerful, bouncing baby, with an insatiable curiosity that seemed to know no bounds. He was almost identical in age to Barbara, and the two had become an inseparable duo. Their days were spent crawling across the vast, soft rugs of the nursery, babbling at each other in a secret language only they understood, and often trying to outdo each other in a contest of who could make the most noise to get their mother's attention!
Jean, now a solemn six-year-old, had taken to her new role as the elder sister with a seriousness that was both touching and slightly comical. She no longer saw herself as just her Mama's eldest daughter; she is now a protector, a guide, (Artoria for her part finds this newfound demeanor so adorable). She would patiently try to teach Bennett and Barbara how to stack wooden blocks, her small hands carefully demonstrating, only to have the two infants gleefully knock the tower down, their laughter echoing through the room.
Artoria smiled as she looked down on her ever growing flock. She's sitting on a rocking chair at the side of her mansion's nursery room and has been knitting a small blue baby sweater for her precious Baby Benny, in the same style as that of the sweaters she knitted for Barbara and Jean.
She momentarily paused at her work to look upon the joyful chaos brought by her three adorable children, 'HER' children.
Bennett had been a happy new addition to her little family. His smile and laughter is contagious as that of a sunny day illuminating and encouraging others to come out and play. He, unlike his game counterpart, now possessed extremely high luck. The very same luck that he unknowingly uses to get away with his mischief.
Just a week ago, Bennett had somehow managed to crawl his way out of his crib and onto a large table at the corner of the library, where Artoria's 'supposed' secret stash of candies were located, a stash that she thought was safe and well hidden from her children. The little rascal then had the gall to throw the entire ceramic jar full of candies to his younger sister Barbara, who was just below him at the time, not out of mischief but in his childlike desire to share his findings. The jar, though it didn't break upon landing on the soft rug, bounced and landed right in front of Barbara.
The baby girl's eyes widened in delight at the sudden appearance of the jar of candies, a jar that, unbeknownst to Bennett, is laced with a tiny amount of Artoria's holy energy for an extra health boost for her children. The candies are not harmful but for a baby like Barbara the extra energy boost is like a super sugar rush. She then started to crawl as fast as her little baby legs could take her, her tiny hands reaching for the jar. The scene would have been adorable if not for the fact that the little angel was now a sugar-fueled ball of energy, crawling around the room like a hyperactive squirrel.
Artoria giggled after remembering that incident. Her little baby boy's fate is now different from that of his game counterpart….all because of a decision she made on the very night she brought him to her home three months ago.
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(Gunnhildrs Mansion, Three Months Ago)
As Artoria finished tucking Jean and Barbara to bed for sleep, she then gently cradled Bennett, the boy who just today became her very own son.
He's so precious in Artoria's eyes. The way he snuggles his chubby little cheeks into her chest as she hums a sweet lullaby was just so adorable!
Yet beneath the peaceful facade of her sleeping little prince, Artoria could sense something, something wrong, something missing and something insidious inside of her son's soul. It was faint but it was there. A void, a hole in his very essence, a severed connection that left him... untethered.
She could sense it with her divine senses, a phantom limb of the soul, a connection to a place of power and belonging that had been brutally ripped away. So this is what Doug meant when he said 'a child abandoned by the world itself'. The boy was a wanderer not just in body but in spirit. His soul was adrift.
And then there was the corruption. A small, dark tendril of abyssal energy, a malevolent seed that is slowly, inexorably poisoning him from the inside out. It was a patient killer, a silent stain that would fester over the years, a shadow of the cursed land he had been subjected to, a reminder of the Windless realm of Mare Jivari. The healer at the guild had seen the physical manifestation of the abyss, but Artoria saw the spiritual truth. The old adventurer hadn't just saved the child's life; he had delivered a ticking time bomb into her care, a soul that would be on the verge of being consumed by the very darkness that had claimed his parents in a span of a decade or two.
A cold, ancient fury, the fury of a goddess, a king, a protector, rose within her, a storm of maternal rage that threatened to shatter the very foundations of the mansion.
She would not allow it! She would not allow this innocent soul, this precious child who had already endured so much, to be claimed by the abyss. Not while she drew breath. Not while she commanded the power of a goddess.
Her aura, the sanctified, holy energy that usually lay dormant, now flared to life, a silent, invisible inferno of divine will. The air in the room grew heavy, the very light from the moon seeming to bend towards her. She was no longer just Artoria, the mother, the Grandmaster. She was the Goddess, the being that held the titles of Rhongomyniad, the Lion King, the Fairy of Paradise, the Light of the World and so many more.
And her cub is threatened.
With a resolve that was as absolute as the stars, she made her choice. She would not merely cleanse him; she would anchor him. She will not just save him; she will claim him as her own, in a way that went beyond simple adoption. She will remake his very soul, forging it in the fires of her own divine essence.
She closed her eyes, her consciousness sinking deep into the wellspring of her divine core, past the memories of kingship, past the might of Excalibur and Rhongomyniad, down to the very core of her being, to the essence of her own, original innocence. The part of her that was still Artoria, the simple girl who wished only for a peaceful Britain, the part of her that was a 'Lily', pure and full of life.
She carefully drew forth a tiny, shimmering fragment of that pure, untainted essence. It was not a weapon, not a command, but a piece of her own soul, a seed of unconditional love and unwavering light. It pulsed with a gentle, life-giving warmth, a stark contrast to the cold, malevolent energy of the abyss.
She looked down at the sleeping Bennett, her emerald eyes filled with a love that was both fierce and gentle. "You are my son," she whispered, her voice a low, sacred vow. "And I will not let the darkness have you. Your soul will be whole. Your home is here, with me."
With the utmost care, as if handling a star, she gently pressed the fragment of her own divine essence against Bennett's tiny chest. It did not enter him with a jolt, but melted into him like snow on a warm spring day, a seamless, perfect union.
The effect was immediate and profound.
The small, dark tendril of abyssal corruption did not just recede; it was annihilated. It was as if a single drop of the purest water had been dropped into a vial of concentrated poison, and the poison had simply ceased to be. The darkness was not just driven out; it was unmade, its very existence purged from the child's body and soul, leaving no trace behind.
Then, the void in his soul, the severed connection to the Night Kingdom of Natlan, was filled. Her essence did not just patch the hole; it became a new foundation. It bound his soul to hers, not as a chain, but as an anchor. He will no longer be a wandering ghost, untethered from the afterlife; his existence, his very spirit, is now irrevocably linked to hers. He is now a Pendragon. He is now a Gunnhildr. He is now hers, her own beloved son.
The act was a unilateral declaration of ownership from one divine being to another. It was the ultimate act of motherhood.
Bennett stirred in his sleep, not in pain, but in comfort. A soft, contented sigh escaped his lips, his small body relaxing completely as if a great, lifelong burden had been lifted. His soul, once fractured and adrift, is now whole. His being, once tainted, is now pure.
He is more than human now. The infusion of a goddess's essence, elevated him beyond the confines of the mortal realm. He had, in a single, silent night, ascended. He became a newborn demigod.
His constellation, once a broken, unlucky wheel, is now reforged, a divine wheel of unparalleled fortune, spinning in his favor, a testament to the love that had remade him.
Artoria felt a gentle weariness settle over her, a satisfying fatigue that spoke of a hard-won victory. What happened was the closest thing Artoria had experienced to that of giving birth. It was an act of pure creation and love.
She looked down at the sleeping infant, a profound sense of peace washing over her. He is now safe. He is now hers.
She then brought the now peacefully slumbering Bennett closer to her chest, preparing to give him a taste of the divine nourishment that was now his birthright. She gently unfastened her blouse, the familiar, maternal ritual a comfort in the aftermath of the spiritual battle she had just waged. As Bennett latched on, a small, blissful hum escaping his tiny lips, she closed her eyes, her hand gently stroking his snow-white hair.
This was the final seal. The sip of her milk, already saturated with her holy energy, would now solidify his transformation, weaving her essence into his very flesh and blood, completing the miracle that had begun in a windless, cursed land. He will now grow strong, healthy, and blessed. He will be the luckiest boy in the world, a living, breathing testament to a mother's love that can conquer even the abyss itself.
(End of Flashback)
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Artoria after fondly remembering that memory from three months ago, then looked back at the present scene unfolding before her eyes. Her Little Baby Benny is now crawling with a determined energy, his target being a wooden toy horse that Jean had just abandoned. As he reached it, he clapped his hands in glee, a wide, toothless smile on his face. The toy was a simple thing, carved from wood, but in his hands, it seemed to gleam with a new vibrancy.
The boy's uncanny luck had become the stuff of legend among the household staff. He would crawl towards a precariously balanced stack of books, only for a sudden gust of wind from an open window to gently nudge the stack away from him. He would drop his rattle, and it would bounce in an impossible trajectory, landing perfectly in the outstretched hand of a passing Elspeth, who would then hand it back to him with a chuckle. He was a tiny, walking, babbling charm, and his very presence seemed to bring a sense of gentle, fortuitous order to the world around him.
His mother, however, found it both endearing and slightly troublesome.
"Mama, look! Benny's trying to eat the horse's tail!" Jean's voice rang out, a mix of alarm and amusement.
Artoria looked over to see Bennett happily gumming on the wooden tail of the toy horse. "Benny, that's not for eating, my sweet boy," she said, her voice a gentle chide as she rose from her rocking chair, setting aside her knitting.
Bennett, hearing his mother's voice, looked up, his bright green eyes twinkling. He didn't let go of the horse's tail, but he did let out a happy gurgle, waving his chubby little arms at her in a gesture that was pure, unadulterated affection. It was his signature move, his way of demanding attention and affection, a maneuver that never failed to make Artoria's heart melt.
Artoria couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, you little rascal," she said, scooping him up into her arms and nuzzling his soft, white hair. He smelled of baby powder, sweet milk, and something uniquely his own, a scent of sun-warmed earth and the sweet fragrance carried by the gentle summer breeze.
This was her life now. A tapestry woven with threads of maternal love, duty, and the quiet, steady work of rebuilding a city and a nation. It was a life she would never have imagined for herself in any of her past existences, a life she would have scorned as weak or insignificant. But now, she knew it was the most important quest she had ever undertaken.
(End of Interlude)
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(Unique Skills)
- Since becoming a goddess with the amalgamation of all her variations and aspects, Artoria was able to access new abilities.
A). Soul Sharing:
- The power to share a piece of themselves spiritually with another person.
- By filling part of the recipient Soul with themselves, the user can even heal the recipient's physical, mental and spiritual wounds that wouldn't normally heal on their own.
- Artoria can use this ability to break a fragment of her soul, or more specifically a fragment of one of her aspects and instill them into a person. The person who receives that aspect also receives the skills that originated from that aspect, though they must learn how to use it first.
B). Divine Arms Mastery
C). Marble Phantasm (Avalon)
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Divina Rota Fortunae
- Bennett's constellation forged from the very essence imparted to him by his mother.
- It means 'Divine Wheel of Fortune' and is the source of Bennett's uncanny luck.
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