Alexos

It had been over a year since Radix entered the world, bringing a constant stream of joy and laughter to the Pyre household. The echoes of merriment had yet to fade, with neighbors frequently overhearing the proud praises, boasts, and jubilant conversations that flowed from their home. Situated on the northernmost edge of Latent Grove, the Pyre family resided in a quaint community of a few families who, like them, sought a life free from the relentless hustle and bustle of the cities and kingdoms.

Their house, positioned at the outskirts of the town, was among the latest structures erected, thus leaving little land for it to be nearer the center. It was by no means extravagant, yet it was ample in its simplicity. A modest three-bedroom bungalow with a storeroom outside the main house, its layout was both modest and refined, designed to reflect the taste of the newlywed couple.

On a certain afternoon, with a gentle breeze weaving through the air, Rigar, freshly bathed, made his way into the living room. He settled onto the milk-colored sofa, lifting Radix into his arms. He tossed the child playfully, delighting in the soft giggles that emanated from his son. Rigar standing above 6"4, was a striking young man with short brown hair and vivid blue eyes. His clean-shaven face highlighted his fair complexion.

"Radix," Rigar began, his voice full of paternal pride, "may you grow to be a fine man like your father. Your intelligence is already remarkable for your age—you can count to a thousand even now, as I expected from my boy. But don't tell your mama... I'm certain you'll be popular too. After all, you've inherited your papa's handsome face. Winning over any girl will be a breeze, just as I won over your mama."

A wide, satisfied smile spread across the baby's face.

"Mama! Papa was amazing! Amazing!" Radix chirped.

Rigar, emboldened, tossed Radix even higher, catching him just in time. Yet, in his playful oblivion, he failed to notice the figure standing in the kitchen's shadowed doorway, watching him.

"So, this is what you don't want my angel to tell his mama, Rigar-san?" Christa's voice cut through the air, sweet yet edged with menace.

Christa, the wife and mother of the man and child in question, stepped fully into view, her smile holding a certain dangerous warmth. Rigar instinctively backed away, sensing the storm he had inadvertently summoned.

"Mama, there seems to be a slight misunderstanding here," he stammered. "I wasn't telling him anything bad. Let's discuss this objectively, shall we?" With genuine terror in his eyes, he carefully set Radix down and put his hands up in the surrender position.

"Oh dear, Did the leftover prince say say something to brag about making me fall in love? I wonder if he still remembers how I saved his life the first time we met" She said menacingly as she softly approached him. "If I remember correctly, your body was in the worst possible condition, you want me to jog up your memories?" She finished now less than a foot away from Rigar who was already backed to the wall.

She slowly withdrew her kitchen knife, and in a swift motion, grabbed him by the collar of his robe, her menacing smile never fading. With deliberate care, she traced the blade along his cheek, her blazing crimson eyes fixed on him with an unsettling allure.

Though a mother, Christa remained a seasoned crusader, her figure both strong and shapely, with a muscular build beneath her busty frame and long, flowing white hair. Rigar knew well that, with the right amount of anger, she could easily unleash violence on someone as powerful as him.

"No, I'll behave myself from now on. I'll make sure to raise him to be more responsible," Rigar stammered, his face turning pale and his body stiffened.

His voice had lost all confidence, now laced with fear, as he was fully aware that her threats were far from empty.

"I really do wonder what to do with the two men in my life," Christa mused. "Come now, Radix, it's time for lunch." With that Christa left for the dining room to set up their afternoon meal, allowing Rigar to heave his sigh of relief. He had just escaped an unclassified catastrophe.

 He sharply turned his attention to Radix , grabbing hold of him and lifting him up.

 "Did you see that Radix? Never say inappropriate things to women. Especially if you meet a scary one like your mom" He whispered to the oblivious baby who had inherited his mother's brilliant white hair and crimson eyes, an enchanting combination that made him a miniature version of her. Radix only smiled back in response and just kept laughing at his unusual expression.

As implied before, Rigar Pyre—more properly known as Alexos Blanç—was the second son of the former ruler of Hertz and the younger brother of its current king, Dante Blanç. Hertz was one of the eight great kingdoms governing the world, each controlling its respective region.

The kingdoms followed a strict monarchy, not out of self-interest, but because democracy had failed them too many times. They had been left with no other choice. And as for why he lived at a secluded part of the country, that would be a result of his own negligence.

In the distant past, when civilization was still young, the democratic system had frequently led to wars and chaos. The divided opinions of the masses, each striving to impose its will, resulted in violence and conflict.

Democracy had nearly brought humanity to the brink of extinction. As a result, the most powerful leaders at the time came to a unanimous decision to establish a monarchy across all regions. Rigar's brother was the 56th King of Hertz, and many generations had passed since then.

Night had fallen, and the air was calm, save for the sounds of nocturnal creatures and the occasional passerby on the street. The Pyre household had completed their daily routines, and dinner was fast approaching.

Rigar and Christa sat in the living room, discussing what they would need to buy from the nearest city the next day. Although they were largely removed from the bustle of civilization, they still relied on the goods and supplies of others to sustain their simple life. While reviewing the budget, Radix was nestled in Christa's arms as she rocked him slowly to sleep.

A sudden knock echoed through the house, disrupting the peaceful quiet and halting their conversation. Rigar hesitated, unsure whether to move toward the door, deciding instead to stay put, waiting to see if the knocking would persist.

The knock came again, this time louder and more forceful. The door rattled under the impact, and concern quickly crept into their minds—no one ever came to visit them this late, especially not after 8 p.m. Christa and Rigar exchanged a glance, and, as if reading each other's thoughts, they nodded in silent agreement.

Christa rose, carrying Radix with her into their bedroom, which was closest to the living room, while Rigar slowly advanced toward the door, his fists clenched and ether coursing through his body in preparation. The tension in the air thickened as he neared the entrance.

"Could you stop banging on the door like that? Who could possibly be here at this hour?" Rigar called out, trying to sound friendly, though his muscles remained tense, ready for anything.

He strained to listen, hoping to gauge if the visitor was familiar. He knew, of course, that even an enemy might respond pleasantly, but the voice would be all he needed to identify the person.

The knocking suddenly ceased, and a heavy silence filled the room. Rigar tightened his fists further, peering through the peephole.