Air swirled around Gene, humming with a buzzing, almost lethal intensity. It thickened quickly, like an ominous storm waiting for its cue. The ground below crackled with electricity, as if it, too, was joining the party, while blades of grass sparked like over-caffeinated fireworks. The wisps of glowing energy spiraled upward, converging toward Gene like a moth to a flame. It was as if the entire universe had agreed to gather for a VIP event that only Gene had the privilege of headlining.
His tiny body began to rise, levitating as if some divine being had decided to give him a personal upgrade. Gene's ember-colored eyes glowed faintly, an air of sheer authority radiating from him like he was some cosmic toddler who had just learned to wield the power of the universe. Even his golden hair seemed to join the revolution, standing on end, because of course, even hair has standards when it's in the presence of royalty.
Dark clouds roiled ominously across the sky, blotting out the sun, because nature clearly didn't want to miss the memo. The whole world seemed to cower under this pint-sized force of nature. It was as if the heavens themselves had said, "Well, guess this kid's in charge now. We're just here for the ride."
Crystal stood frozen, eyes wide, both terrified and amazed. Her hair, which was typically in no mood to defy physics, stood up in every direction, making her look like she had been struck by lightning. And maybe she had, in some cosmic sense. "How did it come to this?" she muttered, as though asking the universe itself for an explanation. She scratched her head, but it didn't make the situation any clearer. She could feel the discomfort from earlier in her body, but frankly, it paled in comparison to the sheer absurdity of what was happening now.
From the moment of his birth, Prince Ray Wimberly had defied logic, and quite frankly, most reasonable explanations. Crystal vividly recalled the panic during the delivery. The child hadn't cried, hadn't even breathed. No pulse, no warmth, and absolutely no "hello world!" moment. He seemed about as alive as a damp sponge. In a panic, Crystal had resorted to every technique her mother had drilled into her: mouth-to-mouth, gentle stimulation, and even a nice warm bath.
Nothing.
It wasn't until she had just about given up and was ready to declare it a stillbirth that the child, who had clearly been napping on the job, finally decided to mumble something. No cries, no "wah-wah, I'm alive!" just a quiet, mysterious mumble. And with that, life just casually reentered his body. It was either a miracle, or the universe had an awful sense of humor.
But the abnormalities didn't stop there. For an entire week, Crystal hadn't heard the baby cry once. Not when he was hungry, cold, or needing a diaper change. He was just… there, existing like some kind of baby-shaped enigma. He was difficult to care for, but Crystal did her best, mostly by taking it one surreal moment at a time.
And now, this. The child who was supposed to be "magic deficient" was casually casting an advanced weather spell. Two elements, mind you. Who needed a god when you had Ray Wimberly? Crystal was now seriously wondering if the kid was some divine being that had taken the form of a child, and she was just his poor mortal babysitter. She shuddered at the thought. Gods were a dime a dozen in the human kingdoms, but in Bermone? Where skepticism reigned like an overbearing parent? Not so much. And yet here she was, feeling like she was trapped in a fever dream.
A sudden burst of heat and fire snapped Crystal out of her trance. "I can't believe the kid is such a monster," Fiora muttered with what could only be described as grim excitement. Behind her, a massive orb of fire began to form, pulsating with raw destructive power. Crystal briefly entertained the notion that Fiora might be a fire hazard to everyone in a 10-mile radius, but before she could further process that, Fiora continued, "Looks like I'll have to use one of my strongest spells."
"Fiora!" her companion barked, as though someone had just told him to jump into a pool of acid. "Do you want to kill us too? How can you summon that kind of power here?"
"It's us or them," Fiora snapped back. "We need to finish this quickly." Apparently, Fiora had missed the memo about this being a baby.
Without further ceremony, Fiora unleashed her "Heliosphere Collapse," a spell so big and explosive it could have been mistaken for the sun's temper tantrum. The orb surged forward, only to fizzle out and vanish into thin air, as if a cosmic "nope" had been slapped on it. Fiora staggered back, pale and completely flummoxed. "What… just happened?" she muttered, clearly questioning whether she had somehow broken the laws of magic, or just had a really bad day.
Crystal could hardly believe her eyes. These two, her supposed protectors, were clearly not your average adventurers. No, they were some sort of assassins, or maybe they were just practicing for a dramatic death scene. Either way, the idea of them trying to off a newborn—her charge—was chilling. The fact that they would prepare to kill a helpless child for simply existing? Crystal couldn't fathom it.
"Are they really doing this?" she thought, looking at her companions with a mix of disgust and disbelief. She had thought they were warming up to her, like maybe—just maybe—they were actually decent people. After the bandit incident, they had even started talking to her! But now, everything she thought she knew was shattered into a thousand tiny pieces of cold reality.
Was this the princess's doing? Had she really ordered her own son's execution simply because he was considered "trash"? Yet here was the child, brimming with more power than Crystal could possibly comprehend. Was this some divine test? Had the universe decided to just throw everything at Crystal, because why not?
The pain of earlier events surged back into Crystal's consciousness, a reminder that the universe seemed to have a knack for giving her every impossible task to solve. But no matter the situation, no matter if Ray was a god, a monster, or the world's greatest magician, Crystal was going to protect him. That was her job, and she wasn't going to let it slip through her fingers.
As the two accomplices prepared for another attack, a bolt of lightning struck down, its thunderous force lighting up the night. It left scorch marks in its wake, sending Fiora and her companion into a full-blown panic. Still, they were determined to finish the job. They tried to move, but each time they did, the lightning followed, more aggressive, more unrelenting. Soon, retreat became their only option.
"This isn't over. We will complete our mission," they muttered, retreating toward a nearby border town.
Gene—who was now Ray—finally began to descend, the storm's grip weakening as the attackers retreated. Crystal, with the precision of a parent at a sporting event, leaped forward to catch the descending baby, shielding him from the oncoming downpour. But the storm didn't let up. The dark clouds lingered like an uninvited guest at a party.
As Crystal bolted into the nearby forest, seeking shelter, she couldn't help but feel the weight of the world pressing down on her. The storm, the unanswered questions, the magic, the child—she had no idea where this bizarre journey would lead. But one thing was certain: this was far from over.