Morning - 6:47 AM
Lirien woke to the soft golden light of the primary sun filtering through her bedroom window. She stretched, yawned, and glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Almost seven in the morning—time to check on Runar.
Her son had been sleeping unusually well lately. No crying fits in the middle of the night, no fussing during the day. Just peaceful, quiet rest. Part of her was grateful—new parents rarely got this lucky. Another part worried it was too good to be true.
He's probably fine, she told herself, slipping out of bed quietly to avoid waking Jake. Just a naturally calm baby.
She padded down the hallway in her nightgown, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. The house was peaceful, still wrapped in the tranquil silence of early morning. Outside, she could hear the distant sounds of the city beginning to wake—flying vehicles starting their routes, early risers heading to work or morning cultivation sessions.
Lirien reached Runar's nursery and gently pushed the door open, a soft smile already forming on her lips.
The smile froze.
Her mind stuttered, trying to process what her eyes were seeing.
There was a child in the crib.
Not a baby. A child. Seven, maybe eight years old, with long black hair spread across the pillow, peaceful features that somehow looked familiar, sleeping diagonally in the crib that was suddenly far too small.
Wrong room, her brain insisted. You walked into the wrong room. There's no—
But this was Runar's nursery. The only nursery. Their house only had one child.
Lirien took a step closer, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest. The morning light fell across the sleeping child's face, illuminating features that made her breath catch.
The nose. The shape of the jaw. The exact curve of the eyebrows.
No. No, that's impossible. That's—
"Runar?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The child didn't stir.
Lirien's hands were shaking now. She moved closer, leaning over the crib, studying the sleeping face with growing horror and disbelief.
It was him. The baby fat was gone, the features more defined, the body longer and stronger—but it was definitely her son. She knew her own child, would recognize him anywhere, and this was—
This was Runar.
A Seven years old Runar.
Where her one-month-old infant should be.
The scream tore from her throat before she could stop it.
"JAKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
The shriek echoed through the house, sharp with terror and disbelief. In the nursery, Runar's eyes snapped open, but he remained still, assessing the situation immediately with his enhanced perception.
She found me. Of course she did. Stay calm. Act confused. Be the scared child. Time to put mt acting skills to the test.
Thundering footsteps in the hallway. The door burst open and Jake rushed in, his cultivation base already flaring defensively, amber eyes scanning for threats. His qi condensed around his hands, ready to strike whatever had made his wife scream.
"What—" He froze mid-sentence, staring at the crib. At the child. At Lirien, who was backing away slowly, one hand over her mouth, tears starting to stream down her face.
"Jake," she whispered, "where's our baby? Where's Runar? Who is this? Where is our son?"
Jake's gaze snapped between his wife and the child in the crib. His mind worked rapidly, running through possibilities—intruder, shapeshifter, possession, kidnapping, some kind of illusion technique—
The child sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, long black hair falling around his shoulders. When he looked up at them, his eyes were wide and confused, maybe a little frightened.
"Mama?" The voice was higher than an adult's but deeper than an infant's. Clear, articulate, carrying perfect diction. "Papa? Why are you screaming? What happened?"
Lirien made a choked sound. "That voice—"
"Runar?" Jake took a cautious step forward, his defensive qi already active. "Is that... are you...?"
The child—Runar—looked between them, his expression shifting from confusion to growing alarm. "Why are you looking at me like that? Did something happen? Why do I feel so weird?"
His small hands—no longer baby hands, but the hands of a child—touched his face, his arms, his chest. The confusion on his features deepened.
"I feel... different," Runar said slowly, his voice carrying genuine bewilderment that made Lirien's heart clench. "Why do I feel different?"
Jake's mind was racing. The voice was his son's—he'd heard Runar make sounds, had that instant parental recognition of his child's voice. The face, despite being older, was unmistakably his son. But how? How?
"Stay here," Jake commanded his wife, moving closer to the crib. He extended his spiritual sense, scanning the child for any signs of possession, shapeshifting, or external interference.
What he found made his blood run cold.
The child had a cultivation base. A strong one. Stardust Awakening realm, fully formed, perfectly balanced. The meridians were wide and reinforced with what looked like incredibly sophisticated runic structures. The qi circulation was smooth and powerful.
Impossible. Absolutely motherfuckingly impossible. But here it was
Yesterday, his son had been a one-month-old infant with no cultivation whatsoever, just the faint glimmers of potential. Now he had a cultivation base that would make academy instructors weep with envy.
"Lirien," Jake said quietly, not taking his eyes off Runar, "bring a mirror. Now."
His wife hesitated, then rushed to the bathroom, returning with a hand mirror. She approached the crib slowly, holding it up so Runar could see his reflection.
The child's eyes widened in shock. Genuine, absolute shock.
"What—" Runar touched his face again, staring at his reflection with something close to horror. "Why do I look different? Where's my... why am I...?" He looked up at his parents, and there were tears forming in his eyes. "What happened to me? Where's my baby body? Mama, I'm scared!"
'Damn my acting skills are good.'
The tears did it. Whatever analytical distance Jake had been maintaining shattered. This was his son. Confused, frightened, transformed by something neither of them understood, but still his son.
Lirien was already moving, reaching into the crib to pull Runar into her arms. The child—because what else could she call him?—wrapped his arms around her neck and buried his face in her shoulder.
"It's okay," she whispered, her own tears falling freely. "It's okay, sweetheart. We're here. We're here."
Jake joined them, his large hand resting on Runar's back, feeling the warmth of his son's body, the steady breathing, the realness of him.
They stood there for a long moment, a family trying to process the impossible.
Twenty minutes later - Living Room
Runar sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket despite not being cold, a cup of warm tea in his hands that he pretended to sip. His parents sat across from him, their own tea forgotten, both looking like they'd aged several years in the past half hour.
"Okay," Jake said finally, his voice carefully controlled. "Runar. Son. Can you tell us what you remember? Anything at all about last night?"
Runar set down his cup, adopting an expression of deep concentration appropriate for a confused child trying to remember something difficult.
"I... I remember sleeping," he said slowly. "But then there was a dream. A really strange dream."
"What kind of dream?" Lirien asked gently, leaning forward.
"There was golden light everywhere," Runar continued, letting his voice carry wonder and uncertainty. "So much light. And it was warm, but not like normal warm. It felt like... like floating in clouds? Or being wrapped in the softest blanket ever."
He paused, as if the memory was difficult to grasp.
"Then the warm feeling changed. It started to hurt. A lot." His hands gripped the blanket tighter. "It felt like my whole body was being pulled apart and put back together at the same time. Like every part of me was breaking and healing over and over."
Lirien's hand covered her mouth. "Oh, sweetheart..."
"But then," Runar said, and his expression shifted to something almost peaceful, "the pain stopped. And it felt... amazing. Like all the bad feelings I'd ever had just disappeared. I felt like I was flying, or swimming in starlight, or..." He shook his head. "I don't know how to describe it. It felt really, really good."
"And then?" Jake prompted.
"And then I woke up and you were screaming." Runar looked up at them with wide, innocent eyes. "Did I do something wrong? Is this my fault?"
"No!" both parents said simultaneously.
Lirien moved to sit beside Runar, pulling him into another hug. "No, baby, this isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Something happened to you, something strange, but you're not to blame."
Jake was pacing now, his analytical mind working through the information.
"Golden light. Warmth. Pain followed by euphoria. That sounds like..." He stopped, turning to face them. "That sounds like a cultivation breakthrough. Multiple breakthroughs, actually. But that's impossible. You were a one-month-old infant with unopened meridians."
He approached Runar, kneeling in front of him. "Son, I need to check something. Is that okay?"
Runar nodded, and Jake placed his hand on the child's shoulder, extending his spiritual sense more carefully this time, really examining the cultivation base.
What he found defied explanation.
The foundation was perfect. Not just good—absolutely flawless. Every meridian was properly opened, reinforced with runic structures he'd never seen before. The organ meridians, which even many adult cultivators never properly developed, were fully formed and functional. The eight extraordinary vessels were all activated.
And the acupoints—all 365 of them were developed, each one a miniature refinement chamber that would make a Meteor Forging cultivator jealous.
"This is..." Jake pulled his hand back, staring at his son in disbelief. "Your foundation is better than mine. Better than anyone's I've ever seen. It's like someone took a Heaven-grade technique and optimized it beyond perfection."
Lirien's eyes widened. "Is that even possible?"
"It shouldn't be. But I'm looking at it right now." Jake sat back on his heels. "Runar's at Stardust Awakening realm. Full consolidation. His foundation is so solid it would take a catastrophic accident to damage it."
"But how?" Lirien looked between her husband and son. "How does a baby go from nothing to this overnight?"
They sat in silence, theories spinning through their minds.
Finally, Jake spoke. "There are legends. Stories of unique physiques awakening and causing rapid transformations. The Seven-Star Divine Body that awakened in a three-year-old and aged him to adulthood in a week. The Primordial Chaos Physique that caused the child to cultivate automatically from birth."
He looked at Runar carefully. "Son, when you were born, the healer said you had a strong spiritual foundation. Excellent potential. But she didn't mention anything unusual about your physique. Still..." He exchanged glances with Lirien. "Rare physiques sometimes don't reveal themselves immediately."
Runar played his role perfectly, looking confused but attentive. "Is that what happened to me? Did I have a... a physique awakening?"
"It's possible," Jake said slowly. "It would explain the rapid aging and the cultivation advancement. Some physiques have that effect when they first activate—forced evolution of the body to match the physique's requirements."
Lirien nodded slowly. "That makes sense. More sense than any alternative, at least."
But internally, both parents were less certain. Physique awakenings were documented, yes, but they were incredibly rare. And even the most powerful ones didn't usually cause changes this dramatic this quickly.
Still, what other explanation was there?
"We need to call Elder Thorne," Jake said decisively. "He's a trained healer and he's trustworthy. He can examine Runar properly, tell us if there are any side effects we should worry about."
"And we need to keep this quiet," Lirien added, her maternal instincts already planning ahead. "If word gets out about a one-month-old advancing to Stardust Awakening overnight and aging six years, every sect and corporation on the continent will want to study him."
Jake's expression darkened. "Or worse. Dissect him. Steal whatever physique he has. Force him into indentured service." He looked at his son protectively. "No one can know the full details. We'll say it was a physique awakening, that we've been keeping him inside while it stabilized, and that he's now seven years old. The cultivation advancement we'll downplay—say he's only at early Stardust Awakening."
Runar listened to his parents planning his protection, and felt a genuine warmth in his chest. They were scared, confused, probably still in shock—but their first instinct was to shield him from danger.
I chose well, he thought. Or truck-kun did. Either way, I'm lucky to have them.