Solaris Void was, in his own very professional and unbiased opinion, an extremely normal child.
He slept.
He cried.
He ate.
He threw tantrums (internally).
He hid under beds when scared.
Normal.
The only tiny difference was that when Solaris cried, the temperature of the room dropped by three degrees, the mana density spiked, and at least one servant somewhere in the manor fainted for reasons no one could scientifically explain.
But that was clearly coincidence.
---
A One-Year-Old's Daily Struggle to Stay Ordinary
__
At one year old, Solaris had already mastered walking.
Which, according to him, was not impressive at all.
I simply analyzed the balance of this vessel, adjusted muscle output, and optimized center of gravity, he thought seriously while waddling across the carpet.
Totally normal.
Lady Isolde, however, watched her son cross the room without falling once and felt her heart tighten.
"Dear…," she whispered to her husband later that night. "At his age… shouldn't he fall more?"
Lord Alistair cleared his throat. "He… inherited my balance."
Inside, Alistair was screaming.
WHY IS MY ONE-YEAR-OLD WALKING LIKE A TRAINED KNIGHT?
Solaris, meanwhile, tripped deliberately and sat down hard on the floor.
"Owaa!" he cried, very convincingly.
Both parents froze.
Solaris peeked through his fingers.
Good. Crisis avoided. Ordinary children fall. I am ordinary.
---
The Terrifying Monster Known as… the Family Familiar
__
The problem began with footsteps.
Not human footsteps.
Heavy.
Rhythmic.
Too calm.
Solaris froze.
His instincts—honed through the annihilation of gods—screamed danger.
That presence…!
Before anyone could react, Solaris dove under the bed.
Smoothly.
Efficiently.
Like a veteran escaping an assassination attempt.
Lady Isolde blinked.
"…Solaris?"
From beneath the bed came a tiny, trembling voice:
"M-Mother… I'm not here."
The door opened.
The family familiar entered.
A massive, lion-sized ethereal beast with glowing runes and ancient eyes.
Servants bowed.
Guards straightened.
Solaris shook violently under the bed.
WHY IS THIS NORMAL HOUSEHOLD ALLOWED TO KEEP A FINAL-BOSS-LOOKING PET?!
The familiar lowered its head… respectfully.
Solaris screamed.
Lady Isolde sighed softly and crouched. "Solaris… it won't hurt you."
"…Promise?"
"Yes."
"…Pinky promise?"
A pause.
"…Yes?"
Solaris crawled out slowly, clinging to her dress like a true, terrified child.
Lord Alistair watched the scene, heart melting.
Look at him… hiding because he's scared. He's just a child…
The familiar, meanwhile, stared at Solaris with reverence.
THIS CHILD IS SEALED APOCALYPSE INCARNATE.
Solaris sneezed.
Normal.
---
The Spoon Incident
__
Solaris decided independence was necessary.
Not because of pride.
Because being fed by someone felt… embarrassing.
I was once worshipped by entire realities, he thought while sitting in a high chair.
Being spoon-fed was unacceptable.
"I… eat self," Solaris declared.
The room froze.
Servants gasped.
Isolde hesitated. "Are you sure, dear?"
Solaris nodded solemnly.
"Big boy."
Lord Alistair turned away.
My son… he wants to grow up already…
Solaris immediately dropped the spoon.
It rolled.
Everyone stared.
Solaris stared at it too.
"…I meant later."
He picked it up, missed his mouth, and smeared food across his cheek.
Silence.
Solaris beamed.
YES. THIS IS IT. MAXIMUM NORMALITY.
Isolde laughed softly, eyes misty.
The servants collectively decided this child was a blessing.
The familiar decided this child was terrifying.
"Finish your meal," Isolde said gently, "and I'll take you to the library."
Solaris froze.
Library.
Books.
Knowledge.
"…All?" he asked.
"Yes."
Solaris ate like his life depended on it.
Which, technically, it did.
---
Some time later,
Sitting quietly in Lady Isolde's arms, Solaris entered the grand Library Hall of House Void for the first time. His small body went still the moment they crossed the threshold.
The room was enormous.
No—too enormous.
Towering bookshelves stretched upward like walls of a forgotten city, disappearing into a ceiling so high it made his neck ache just from looking. Sunlight poured through tall arched windows, painting the shelves gold, while the air itself felt heavy—thick with age, knowledge, and secrets.
Solaris tightened his grip on his mother's sleeve.
This is fine, he told himself calmly.
Normal houses have libraries. Maybe just… smaller ones.
His eyes moved on their own, scanning rows of books he couldn't read yet—but somehow felt familiar. Not readable. Familiar.
Normal babies like pictures, he reasoned.
I just… like a lot of pictures.
Lady Isolde noticed how quiet he'd become and smiled gently.
"You want to see the books, don't you?"
Solaris nodded—small, careful, perfectly ordinary.
Inside, something stirred.
The change began subtly.
Solaris didn't notice it at first—only that his thoughts felt clearer. Faster. Like the room itself was speaking in a language he almost remembered.
He felt drawn to certain shelves. Not because of the titles—he couldn't read—but because something behind them pulled at him, The Knowledge.
Stop, he warned himself.
Normal boys don't get pulled by books.
Then came the hunger.
Not for food.
For knowing.
And that was when his eyes changed.
Cyan faded—slowly, quietly—into a glowing shade of Yellow.
Lady Isolde froze.
Just for a moment.
She had seen that color before. On her husband. Only when emotions ran dangerously high.
Solaris felt it too. His balance wavered. The excitement sharpened into something almost overwhelming.
No. This is not normal, he thought quickly.
Act normal. Normal boys just want to look. That's all.
He forced himself to relax. To blink. To soften his expression.
I'm just curious, he reassured himself.
Curiosity is normal. Everyone says so.
Isolde lowered him gently onto the soft carpet, offering her hand.
"Come," she said calmly, though her heart was no longer completely at ease.
"I'll show you."
Solaris hesitated.
Then he took her hand.
This is normal, he repeated in his mind as they walked together toward the shelves.
I am a normal boy… who just happens to really, really like books.
---
["For now, Solaris Void was just a child.
But nothing was meant to last forever."]
---
⭐ Author's Note
[ Next time: A Child Learning Control ]