Freya Ravenstein.
This had been the name Atticus had chosen for his sister. The reason needed no explanation, as it was the name of the one Atticus had once lost.
It had been well received by his parents, with Avalon resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder and Anastasia breaking into a soft smile.
"Come... come carry your sister."
As he received Freya from his mother, Atticus had never been more careful in his entire life. His entire body stiffened the moment he felt her small, almost weightless frame in his arms.
"Come on, Atticus, she’s not going to bite."
"It’s alright, son..."
Anastasia and Avalon watched him with amusement. He had faced off against trillions just months ago, yet now he stood frozen. It was the first time they had seen Atticus act with such caution, and all it took was something so fragile.
Exhaling slowly, Atticus steadied himself and finally lowered his gaze to her. Her tiny face was scrunched up, like she was about to cry.
"What do I do? She’s going to cry..."
"Bounce her, slowly," Anastasia said quickly.
"Okay..."
Atticus began to bounce her gently, taking slow steps as he moved around the room.
The doctors still present stared at the scene with shock. Was this truly the same supreme ruler who stood at the absolute peak of the span?
But Atticus paid them no mind. His eyes lit up the moment her face began to relax.
He glanced quickly at his parents.
"It’s working."
"Yeah, good job, Atticus."
"Slowly..."
Atticus smiled as Freya’s eyes fluttered open. The moment he met her large, ocean-blue eyes, he felt something shift quietly within his chest.
The birth of Freya sent ripples across the entirety of Eldoralth. Not only was she another addition to the main Ravenstein line, she was also the immediate sister to the supreme ruler of Eldoralth.
If she held even a fraction of the potential her brother possessed, then the world had just witnessed the birth of another monster.
In response to Freya’s birth, people across the domain flocked to the hill in celebration. A flood of gifts was sent over, from elites seeking to form connections with the Ravensteins to even the common people.
Eldoralth entered an era of celebration.
However, for Atticus, such a thing did not last. Once the initial thrill of Freya’s birth faded, a brutal problem surfaced.
The entire reason they had waited for her to be born first was the desire to turn her into a god.
Yet there was only one way for anyone to become a god in the middle planes.
Killing another god.
As Atticus recalled the fragile little thing he had held in his arms just days ago, the thought made his chest tighten.
...
Atticus appeared in the skies of a vast wasteland. A golden tree rose at its center, stretching toward the heavens as it bathed the land in a shimmering glow.
Below, his gaze settled on Anorah, who stood motionless with her eyes closed, surrounded by countless massive artilleries.
He chose to observe in silence.
The air around her was utterly still, calm to an unnatural degree. Then, one of the artillery pieces began to glow, the light intensifying with each passing moment before releasing a condensed beam of pure power.
The beam reached Anorah in an instant. It was about to strike when her eyes snapped open, a flicker of golden light passing through them.
The beam collided with something solid, spreading across a shimmering, glass-like surface that had formed around her.
One after another, the surrounding artilleries lit up, and in the next moment countless beams of pure power came crashing down on her.
Yet Anorah remained completely still. Each beam struck the reflective barrier and was swallowed whole.
A moment later, her eyes blazed with a blinding light.
"Reflect."
In an instant, the absorbed beams burst outward from the surface, streaking back toward their origins and tearing through the artilleries, erasing them from existence.
Atticus’ eyes shone.
’So this is her aspect...’
"...what the— Atti... did you just get here?"


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