The Still World was calm. An eternal twilight gently shimmered across its boundless sky, casting soft glows through the window of the chamber Alter and Selene shared. The days had blurred into dreamlike serenity—until this one morning broke the rhythm.
Selene jolted up from their bed, her hand flying to her mouth.
"Selene?" Alter sat upright, his senses immediately alert.
She didn't answer. She darted from the room, feet padding softly across the golden-hued floor before slamming the restroom door.
Then came the sounds—retching, gagging, the unmistakable echo of morning sickness.
Alter was at the door in seconds. "Selene? Are you alright?! I'm coming in."
He didn't wait for permission. The door creaked open, revealing Selene knelt over the basin, one hand braced against the wall, the other pressed lightly to her abdomen. Her cheeks were pale, her breaths uneven.
"Hey, hey," he murmured, crouching beside her, hands gently brushing her hair from her face. "What's wrong? Was it something you ate?"
She swallowed, coughed lightly, then turned to him with wide, glassy eyes.
"No… I don't think so," she said softly. "I… I think…"
Her hand trembled against her stomach.
Alter blinked.
And then—everything stopped.
His heartbeat surged. His mind processed every possibility, every potential cause. And then it clicked.
He stared at her, eyes wide with a rising emotion he hadn't felt since his godhood awakening. "Selene… are you—"
She nodded slowly. A tear welled in the corner of her eye.
"I think I'm pregnant."
There was no time to think. No hesitation. Alter reached forward and swept her into his arms, lifting her high, spinning once in disbelief and joy, then clutching her tightly to his chest.
Selene laughed through her tears, overwhelmed by the moment.
"You're going to be a mother," he whispered against her ear.
"And you…" she smiled through sobs, "you're going to be a father."
Their bodies pressed together, hearts racing in perfect synchronicity. For all the battles they'd endured—for every god slain, every demon defeated—this was the moment that made them tremble.
Their legacy… had begun.
—
They remained in the Still World for the next few months, ensuring Selene's health was optimal and hidden from divine and demonic sight. Alter, now more cautious than ever, meticulously tuned the aura frequency of the Still World to mask the growing life within her.
And then, after ensuring the safety and stability of the developing child, they exited the Still World.
—
Morning sunlight kissed the halls of the Mythral Dawn estate.
Alter stepped forward with Selene at his side, her hair cascading like moonlight, her expression calm—but her aura glowing with something none of them had seen before. Radiant, peaceful… and profoundly alive.
The Commanders were the first to notice. Mira tilted her head.
"...Is it just me or is her mana signature strange?"
Selene held up her hand and smiled.
"I have something to tell you all."
Alter stepped in beside her, his eyes shining.
"We're having a child."
Silence. A full, perfect second of stunned silence.
Then—
Rhed: "WHAT?!"
Talia: "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH—"
Blazebloom, in full bear form, flipped onto his back and rolled around, feet waving like leaves in the wind. He then summoned a bouquet of flowers from somewhere and shoved them at Selene.
Vellmar dropped his sword in disbelief. Mira's eyes sparkled like she was about to scream but remembered to breathe. Finn blinked five times, then quietly muttered, "We're all uncles and aunts now, huh…"
Then came the group charge. All of them piled toward the pair in chaos, trying not to injure the mother-to-be but still crowding them like eager children.
Even the royal elf attendants—still visiting temporarily—looked genuinely shaken.
Selene's cheeks flushed red from the attention.
Alter chuckled. "You're all going to smother her before the child's even born."
"We're not crying!" Rhed declared, openly sobbing.
"I am!" Talia countered, hugging Selene from the side.
Selene wiped her tears, overwhelmed once more. "Thank you. All of you."
The day turned into a celebration. No fanfare, no banners—just the embrace of a family formed not by blood, but by bond. And at the center of it all, a child yet unborn… but already loved by the world.
Morning light filtered into the Still World's sanctuary, soft and golden. Selene stirred awake, her hand quickly flying to her mouth. She bolted upright and ran for the inner chamber's washroom. Alter's eyes snapped open as he heard her retching. In a blink, he was beside her.
"Selene—what's wrong?" he asked, holding her hair back, a hand gently pressed against her back.
She coughed, steadied herself on the marble basin, then exhaled shakily. "I think... I'm fine. But…" Her hands dropped to her lower abdomen. Her voice trembled, eyes wide with realization. "Alter… I think... I'm pregnant."
Silence held for a heartbeat. Then Alter's breath caught, and a soft light welled in his golden eyes. He stared at her—truly stared—and then, without hesitation, scooped her into his arms, lifting her off the floor with a radiant laugh that echoed like sunlight breaking through clouds.
"You're pregnant?" he repeated, his voice breaking with emotion. "Selene, we… we're going to have a child?"
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she nodded, her arms wrapping around his neck.
"No," Alter whispered with a sudden grin. "We're going to have two."
She blinked. "Two?"
Alter chuckled and gently tapped the space over her heart. "I never told you, did I? Back when I forged the Veil of Origin, I made two pendants. One for each child. I didn't know when it would happen… only that it would. I've kept them ever since."
Selene blinked away tears again, burying her face against his neck. "You… you've always known?"
"I didn't know," Alter murmured, pulling her closer. "But I believed. Enough to forge them with my own hands. They're soulbound—hidden from the divine and demonic realms, veiled even from those with 85% Creator Authority. They'll protect our children… even if I'm not there."
She shook her head fiercely. "Don't say that. You will be there."
"I will," he said, voice firm. "And they'll know peace, because of what we've built."
The two exited the Still World later that morning, radiant and unshakably bound. Selene's soft glow wasn't just her divine mana anymore—it was life, new life, beginning inside her. A new future.
When the announcement was made, the entire Mythral Dawn estate froze in stunned silence. Then came the eruption of cheers, laughter, and celebration.
Alter's disciples formed a protective circle. Mira cried. Finn stammered congratulations. Blazebloom, in his grand bear form, roared joyfully and tackled Alter in a bear hug.
Selene smiled through happy tears. She held her pendant—and whispered to her future children, already protected, already loved.
Morning light filtered into the Still World's sanctuary, soft and golden. Selene stirred awake, her hand quickly flying to her mouth. She bolted upright and ran for the inner chamber's washroom. Alter's eyes snapped open as he heard her retching. In a blink, he was beside her.
"Selene—what's wrong?" he asked, holding her hair back, a hand gently pressed against her back.
She coughed, steadied herself on the marble basin, then exhaled shakily. "I think... I'm fine. But…" Her hands dropped to her lower abdomen. Her voice trembled, eyes wide with realization. "Alter… I think... I'm pregnant."
Silence held for a heartbeat. Then Alter's breath caught, and a soft light welled in his golden eyes. He stared at her—truly stared—and then, without hesitation, scooped her into his arms, lifting her off the floor with a radiant laugh that echoed like sunlight breaking through clouds.
"You're pregnant?" he repeated, his voice breaking with emotion. "Selene, we… we're going to have a child?"
Tears shimmered in her eyes as she nodded, her arms wrapping around his neck.
"No," Alter whispered with a sudden grin. "We're going to have two."
She blinked. "Two?"
Alter chuckled and gently tapped the space over her heart. "I never told you, did I? Back when I forged the Veil of Origin, I made two pendants. One for each child. I didn't know when it would happen… only that it would. I've kept them ever since."
Selene blinked away tears again, burying her face against his neck. "You… you've always known?"
"I didn't know," Alter murmured, pulling her closer. "But I believed. Enough to forge them with my own hands. They're soulbound—hidden from the divine and demonic realms, veiled even from those with 85% Creator Authority. They'll protect our children… even if I'm not there."
She shook her head fiercely. "Don't say that. You will be there."
"I will," he said, voice firm. "And they'll know peace, because of what we've built."
The two exited the Still World later that morning, radiant and unshakably bound. Selene's soft glow wasn't just her divine mana anymore—it was life, new life, beginning inside her. A new future.
When the announcement was made, the entire Mythral Dawn estate froze in stunned silence. Then came the eruption of cheers, laughter, and celebration.
Alter's disciples formed a protective circle. Mira cried. Finn stammered congratulations. Blazebloom, in his grand bear form, roared joyfully and tackled Alter in a bear hug.
Selene smiled through happy tears. She held her pendant—and whispered to her future children, already protected, already loved.
Weeks passed. Selene's pregnancy progressed with grace. Her belly swelled gently beneath flowing silks, her steps lighter than air, glowing with a gentle divine luminescence. Alter never left her side. He built sanctums within the Still World, created comfort spheres, and imbued protective runes along every wall. The days were filled with laughter, storytelling, planning for names, and moments of quiet where Selene pressed his hand to her growing womb and whispered secrets to their unborn children.
But one evening, Alter sat alone.
He opened his palm, and a sphere of golden energy formed—threads of divine connection manifesting before him like spider silk between stars. One in particular shimmered faintly, pulsing.
The divine tether to Seraphina.
He focused. The thread rippled.
Its strands were aligning.
"Mending…" he whispered. "Too fast."
His jaw clenched. He traced the thread again.
"I don't have much time left."
The sun had not yet crested the horizon when the estate stirred to life.
Within the grand inner chambers of the Mythral Dawn's estate, Selene lay surrounded by warmth, woven silk sheets, and the presence of gentle hands. The maids, healers, and female Commanders had gathered early—calm, focused, prepared. Mira gave short instructions, brushing Selene's damp forehead with a cool cloth. Arinelle stood close, hands glowing softly with spiritual energy, easing the surges of pain.
Outside the chamber doors, a far less graceful scene played out.
Alter paced back and forth like a lion trapped in a gilded cage. His hands were shaking, his face pale—utterly unlike the composed Sovereign known across the realms.
Finn sat slouched on a bench, arms folded behind his head, trying to seem casual. "You know, for someone who's fought demon gods, you look like you're about to faint."
"I have fought demon gods," Alter muttered, stopping to glare at him, "None of them ever screamed like that."
Blazebloom, in full bear form, sat beside him with his paws pressed over his ears. "Make it stoooop. I didn't sign up for this kind of horror…"
"Imagine being the one giving birth," Revyn muttered dryly, sipping tea and side-eyeing everyone.
Suddenly—sound pierced the tense silence. A wail. Then another.
Twin cries filled the air.
All the men froze. Blazebloom's eyes widened as if he'd heard the roar of an apocalypse. Finn dropped his tea.
Then the door creaked open.
A maid stepped out, eyes misted with emotion. "Twins," she said softly. "A boy and a girl. Both healthy. Lady Selene is resting."
Alter didn't wait another second.
He bolted inside, pushing past velvet curtains and light wards, falling to his knees beside Selene's bedside. She was exhausted, her hair damp with sweat, her skin pale but glowing with divine grace. Her eyes, heavy-lidded, fluttered open.
He reached for her hand. "You did it," he whispered, voice trembling. "Selene… you're incredible."
A weak but radiant smile spread across her lips. "I… told you… I could handle a god just fine."
Nestled in her arms, two tiny swaddled forms squirmed gently. The boy had tufts of pale gold hair and already flared a flicker of aura—his father's sovereign presence. The girl had Selene's calm, and her mana signature pulsed with a crystalline hum—gentle, precise, serene.
Alter stared at them, breath caught in his chest.
"Look at them," Selene whispered, eyes locked on his. "They're us."
He reached over and gently touched each child's forehead with glowing fingertips. As he did, the pendants from the Veil of Origin—long-prepared—sensed their wearers. The soft gleam of soul resonance flowed through the room, binding father and children with an invisible thread of warmth and protection.
"They're perfect," he whispered.
Outside, word had spread. The estate erupted with celebration. Banners unfurled. Lights flickered with draconic and celestial motifs. Mira and Finn raised a toast. Blazebloom shed a tear into a bowl of honey. Even the stoniest Commanders wore soft expressions, gazing toward the chamber where their Sovereign's legacy had just been born.
But within that room, no sound mattered more than the quiet breaths of the twins and the heartbeat of the woman Alter loved more than anything.
He leaned forward and kissed Selene's forehead. "Thank you," he whispered.
Selene, eyes shining, replied with a whisper of her own. "Now… what shall we name them?"
The moment lingered—soft, still, eternal.
And in that pause, the world beyond the estate held its breath for the children who now carried the blood of a Sovereign and the light of the dawn.
The next morning, the estate was alive with laughter and movement.
Sunlight poured in through the wide crystalline windows of the upper hall. A soft breeze swept across the garden terrace where a large gathering had formed—Commanders, friends, estate staff, and even some elven envoys. Everyone was present for one reason:
The naming of the Sovereign Twins.
At the center of it all, Alter sat on a cushioned bench beneath the golden boughs of the skyvine tree, both children nestled safely in his arms. Selene reclined beside him, radiant in a pale robe embroidered with silver drakewings, the Veil of Origin ring glimmering softly on her hand.
The guests gathered closer, eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"Well?" asked Mira with a grin, bouncing on her heels. "Have you two decided?"
"We've been thinking," Alter said slowly. "But…"
And like a floodgate bursting—
"Oh! Name the boy Aelion! Sounds sovereign, right?" Finn interjected.
"Aelion sounds like a god who recites poetry on mountaintops," Revyn muttered. "Name him something sharp. Like… Varn."
Talia burst in with, "No no no, if you want something powerful, go with 'Stormfang'! That way, he'll sound like a myth the moment he's born!"
Blazebloom, licking honey from his paw, mumbled, "I like Biscuit. Simple. Sweet."
Selene nearly choked on her tea. "Biscuit?!"
"Fine! Honeybloom, then!" the bear huffed.
Everyone started talking at once.
"Lumiriel!"
"No, Drayzor!"
"How about Shadowbane?"
"Celestus!"
"Oh for the love of light, STOP," Elira groaned.
Selene shook her head with a half-laugh, placing a hand on Alter's shoulder. "You're not seriously considering Biscuit, are you?"
"Not unless we want to doom the boy to ruling a continent with jam," Alter said, suppressing a smirk.
He quieted the crowd with a small motion of his hand.
Then his voice dropped to a calm, thoughtful cadence.
"We already knew," he said. "I looked at them this morning while Selene slept. And something in me… just clicked."
He turned to Selene. "Your name. Selene. Moonlight. Serenity. Grace. The peace I found in my darkest hours."
He gently shifted the girl in his arm, cradling her closer.
"For her… I want to name her Serenya. A name born of your calm, your strength, your soul. May she carry your light into every night."
Selene's eyes glistened, and her hand flew to her mouth. The crowd grew still.
"And for him," Alter said, looking at the boy, "I see something wild. Fire. Roar. But tempered… not by rage, but love. I want to name him Kaelion. The 'Crowned Flame.' A star who will rise from the embers of legacy and forge a path no one has ever walked."
He looked at Selene again. "Kaelion and Serenya."
Selene whispered the names like a prayer. "They're beautiful."
Mira wiped her eyes. "That's not fair. Why do I cry every time this man says things?"
Finn muttered, "Because he has a god-tier monologue passive…"
Blazebloom tried to repeat the names, but fumbled and ended up calling them "Cale-bun and Ser-nyaa." He was promptly booed by the crowd.
But none of it mattered. Because as the names were spoken again, something shifted in the air.
A soft pulse from the pendants they now wore—a faint golden flare from the Veil of Origin threads. Recognition. Soulbinding.
Their names were now etched into the world.
A cheer rose. Wine was poured. Banners of starlight and flame were raised. Talia accidentally set a tablecloth on fire in excitement. Vellmar tried to carry the babies for a "heroic pose," but tripped and nearly fell into the fountain. Mira chased after Finn with a pillow for snorting too loud at the moment of silence.
And through it all—Selene and Alter watched their legacy take root.
Kaelion and Serenya. The heirs of the Sovereign.
Months passed in serene warmth.
Within the Mythral Dawn's estate, the world narrowed to the soft breaths of sleeping infants, the clumsy slap of bare baby feet, and the delicate rhythm of life lived in slow wonder. For the first time in ages, Alter was no warrior, no sovereign, no celestial. He was simply a father.
Kaelion and Serenya had grown with each passing moon, now small bundles of flickering warmth and serenity—one with flame-touched eyes that glowed faintly when he cried, the other with a silver-blue gaze that shimmered in moonlight even as she slept.
And through it all, Alter was with them. Every day. Every night.
He had taken to caring for them with diligence far beyond any battlefield strategy. Whether swaddling or singing lullabies (awkwardly), he refused to miss a single moment of their growth.
Which also meant…
"Gah—!"
A sharp yelp echoed across the nursery.
Selene burst in to see Alter kneeling by the changing table, his once regal expression frozen in horror, a wet stain rapidly spreading across his face. In his arms, Kaelion blinked innocently—utterly unbothered by having peed directly into his father's face mid-diaper swap.
Selene laughed so hard she nearly doubled over.
Even Blazebloom—who had transformed into a squishy plush form for baby cuddling duty—gave an audible wheeze from the corner. "That's twice this week, Alter," he managed between snickers.
"I dodged fireballs from Demon Gods," Alter muttered, wiping himself off with a towel. "But this... this is the real trial."
Another day, he had proudly lifted both twins onto his armored shoulders—carrying them like a twin triumph across the halls. They giggled, gurgling and patting his hair.
Until a suspicious warmth trickled down the back of his neck.
Rushing to the mirror, he turned—and saw it.
"Selene—!"
He bellowed.
"Which one of your children just pooped on my armor!?"
From the corridor, her laughter rang out again like wind chimes in the sun.
But there were quieter moments, too.
In the late hours, when the estate slumbered, Alter would lie beside the cradle, watching the twins breathe.
He offered a finger into their tiny palms. First Kaelion. Then Serenya. Each child, without fail, would grasp him—soft, small, warm. Not out of need, but comfort. As if to say: we know you're here, and we are safe.
Selene would sometimes wake to find him sitting there, cradling both infants, his expression distant yet calm.
"I could stay like this forever," he murmured once, not realizing she had approached.
Her arms came around his shoulders from behind. "Then let's stay like this a while longer."
In these days, the fear of divine judgment or world balance faded, just a little. Here, he was not Creator-blooded or Draconian Prime.
He was Alter. Husband. Father.
And Kaelion and Serenya were his everything.
By now, Alter had long abandoned any illusion that he was in control.
Sure, he'd slain Demon Gods, survived the Trial of Ascension, and rebuilt nations from ashes. But two babies?
Two babies were undefeated.
It started innocently enough one dawn.
Blazebloom, now acting as a semi-permanent baby pillow (and sometimes stealth walker), had just laid Serenya down after a warm bath. Kaelion, freshly changed, was nestled against Alter's chest, pawing at his collar with the quiet authority of a future tyrant.
"Alright, you two," Alter whispered. "Time for—"
Burp.
Fwoosh.
A tiny flame—barely larger than a candle wick—emerged from Kaelion's mouth. It harmlessly singed the edge of Alter's tunic, which he smothered immediately with one hand.
"…He's teething fire already?"
Blazebloom blinked. "Didn't you do that at like… age twelve?"
"I wasn't a baby!" Alter hissed.
"You were literally a baby dragon."
"That's different—"
Fwoosh.
Another baby belch. Another singe.
"…I'm going to need flameproof bibs," Alter muttered as Kaelion gave a victorious gurgle and kicked his feet like a tiny sun god.
Later that day, the diaper wars resumed.
Selene had gone to rest, and Alter boldly declared, "I'll handle this round."
Blazebloom, now in plush bear mode and swaddled in a baby sling, simply said, "Your funeral."
With precision, Alter unwrapped Serenya from her cocoon blanket. Everything seemed calm.
Until she laughed.
He froze.
That laugh was a trap.
She kicked both legs in glee—
Splurt.
"…By the stars above," he whispered, holding up his hand—coated in something unspeakable. "Why. Does. This. Smell. Like corruption magic!?"
Selene peeked in. Saw him frozen. Then slammed the door shut with a muffled "Good luck!" from outside.
There were sweeter antics, of course.
Serenya had developed the adorable (but chaotic) habit of sneaking into her father's robes while he meditated. Alter, sitting cross-legged under a tree in the courtyard, eyes closed in deep resonance, would suddenly feel a warm giggle against his chest—and look down to find Serenya crawling into his lap, chewing on his aura-threaded belt.
"…I'll need to re-weave that again."
Or the time Kaelion stole Starsever's sheath and tried to wield it like a club. He swung it with surprising force and conked Blazebloom's head, making the bear groan and roll over dramatically. "I've been slain by your heir, Alter. Take the throne, boy."
And then came the dreaded moment.
One morning, Alter awoke to find both twins had climbed onto him. Kaelion on his head. Serenya sprawled across his chest.
He dared not move.
He was sweating.
Selene opened the curtains and gasped.
"Look! The Prime Dragonic Sovereign has been conquered!"
All the female attendants burst into laughter. Mira doubled over. Even Finn had to lean against a doorframe.
"Shut it," Alter said, voice muffled from under Kaelion's squishy weight. "Shut it all."
But the best moment?
That quiet night, when both babies—bathed, fed, and completely clean—fell asleep in his arms, one cradled in each elbow.
Their breathing synchronized. Their fingers twitched slightly, clinging to their father's sleeves.
Selene stepped into the candlelight, a soft towel draped over her arm. Her smile was full of joy and quiet reverence.
"Want me to take one?" she asked gently.
Alter didn't move.
"…No. Just a little longer."
And under the warm golden light of their sanctuary, the Sovereign of Dragons simply sat, holding his legacy.
His most chaotic, beautiful legacy.