Snowfall blanketed the mountainside in eerie silence, as if the very land held its breath. The avalanche had long passed, leaving behind jagged scars where nature's fury had torn through ancient trees and hidden paths. Amid the churned white and broken branches, something moved—a soft whimper, barely audible over the wind.
Nestled in the crook of a bent pine was a bundle wrapped in tattered cloth. A baby. Red-haired, pale-skinned, and unmistakably out of place.
He stirred, violet eyes fluttering open.
Okay, so this isn't exactly the grand arrival I had in mind, I thought wryly. No trumpets, no wise old hermit, not even a pack of wolves trying to raise me as their king. Rude.
I squinted up at the falling snow, and though I couldn't control my infant body, my thoughts were as clear as ever. The cold didn't bother me. My Lunarian physiology, even in this underdeveloped form, kept me warm—almost hot, really.
A sharp whistle pierced the wind, followed by the crunch of boots.
"By the gods… Meryl! Over here!"
A pair of figures emerged through the trees. One was a tall man wrapped in a fur-lined travel cloak, his beard flecked with frost. The other, a shorter woman with sharp gray eyes and several bags slung across her shoulders, hustled over with surprising speed.
"A baby?" Meryl gasped, crouching beside me. "What in the—he's freezing!"
"Not crying either," the man noted, brows raised. "Is he even alive?"
She pressed her fingers to my neck, then let out a relieved sigh. "Alive, and warm. Really warm."
"He must be from a fallen caravan… or maybe…?" The man trailed off as he met my gaze.
My wide, curious purple eyes stared back at him with eerie calm. I couldn't help it—it was funny watching grown adults squirm under a baby's gaze.
"Those eyes," Meryl whispered. "And the hair. Have you ever seen anything like it, Ardan?"
"Only in paintings of old noble families that had faced all that time brought. This one might be noble."
Ardan glanced up at the sky, then back to me. "We can't leave him out here. Xyrus is only two days away. We'll take him with us."
And just like that, I was scooped up, wrapped in a thick woolen scarf, and tucked into a makeshift sling against Meryl's chest.
Found family speedrun: complete, I thought, already planning my next moves.
The road to Xyrus was a winding path of half-frozen mud and slush, but the merchants were well-prepared. Their small caravan—just three wagons and a few loyal mana beasts—moved with the weary efficiency of long experience.
Ardan and Meryl were traders specializing in magical goods: raw mana cores, lesser enchantments, alchemical tools, and a rotating stock of whatever rare goods they could get their hands on. They weren't rich, but they were smart and respected enough to be granted entry to Xyrus Academy's trade courts.
I mostly pretended to sleep as they whispered theories about me around their campfire at night.
"He doesn't cry," Meryl muttered one evening. "Not once."
"Or babble," Ardan agreed. "He just stares. Like he's studying us."
"…He's a baby, Ardan."
"Sure, but those eyes—"
I didn't blame them. If I saw a newborn baby looking like they'd just written a thesis on dimensional magic, I'd be concerned too.
By the time we reached the base of the floating city of Xyrus, the snowy forests had given way to well-trodden roads and bustling trade posts. The massive stone platform that held the teleportation gate buzzed with energy, guarded by sentries in blue-and-silver robes.
One of the guards stepped forward. "State your business."
Ardan handed over a scroll with a wax seal. "Trade agreement with Xyrus Academy. We bring rare mana cores, alchemical wool, and several learning appliances enchanted for young mages."
The guard studied the scroll, then looked over the wagons. His eyes briefly paused on me, blinking once. "And the child?"
"Found him in the mountains," Meryl said smoothly. "Orphaned, most likely. We plan to leave him with an orphanage after our meeting."
The guard nodded. "Proceed. Gate activation in twenty seconds."
The teleportation gate shimmered to life, a ring of runes pulsing with golden-blue mana. As the caravan stepped into the light, I felt my senses twist—like reality was being flipped inside out.
And then, we were in the sky.
Xyrus was a marvel.
Floating thousands of feet above the world, it sprawled like a city born from dreams—graceful bridges connecting marble towers, glowing mana crystals lighting the streets, and mages traveled the streets with their heads held high.
The Academy loomed at the center, a grand cathedral of magic with spires that reached for the heavens.
Even as a baby, I could feel it: this city pulsed with mana.
The meeting with Director Cynthia Goodsky was held in a luxurious conference room of the Academy's trade hall. Polished obsidian tiles reflected glowing runes, and a soft enchantment in the air muffled outside sound.
Cynthia sat at the head of the table, sipping tea from a porcelain cup. Her eyes—sharp, calculating, yet not unkind—moved from Meryl to Ardan, then to the crates of goods their assistants laid out.
"Excellent quality," she said, tapping a rank-A mana core with one manicured finger. "And this… low-grade beginner equipment? You enchanted these yourself?"
Ardan nodded. "A few students every year can't afford premium gear. We thought of providing affordable alternatives with minor enchantments—enhanced durability, minimal mana draw."
"A clever niche," Cynthia mused. "Xyrus may find use for them. I'll recommend a limited partnership trial."
Meryl bowed slightly. "Thank you, Director."
Cynthia's gaze shifted to the bundled form I occupied in Meryl's arms.
"…And the child?"
"Ah," Meryl said. "We found him in the mountains. No sign of parents, just… lying there. No frostbite, no crying. We planned to leave him at an orphanage once our business was done."
Cynthia stood slowly and walked over. "May I see him?"
Meryl hesitated, then unwrapped the scarf.
I gave her my most adorable wide-eyed stare, blinking once.
Cynthia's lips parted slightly. Her gaze swept over the red hair, the smooth skin, the wings tattooed faintly across my back (which were currently dormant), and finally landed on my eyes—bright purple, almost glowing in the enchanted light.
"…Unusual," she murmured. "Very unusual."
Meryl shifted awkwardly. "We thought he might be of noble birth."
"Perhaps." Cynthia folded her arms behind her back. "What do you plan to name him?"
Ardan scratched his beard. "We hadn't thought that far. We figured the orphanage would handle it."
Cynthia studied me for a moment longer, then gave a small nod.
"I will take him."
Meryl blinked. "You will?"
"Yes." Cynthia turned her gaze to the merchants. "I find his appearance… fascinating. He may be a rare variation of a known bloodline. It would be a waste to let him vanish into the system."
The merchants exchanged glances. Ardan looked like he wanted to ask a dozen questions—but instead, he bowed.
"Of course, Director. He'll be in good hands."
They said nothing more. No one questioned Cynthia Goodsky.
---
That night, I lay in a warm cradle within a sunlit room, surrounded by softly humming enchantments and a view of the clouds beyond arched windows.
Cynthia stood nearby, speaking softly to one of her aides.
"Keep his existence off the records for now. I'll have him observed and trained discreetly."
Her aide nodded and left.
She approached the cradle and peered down at me, her expression unreadable.
"You don't feel like a normal child," she whispered. "But I've met gods in human skin entities beyond most common comprehension. You'll have to do more than blink to surprise me."
I blinked.
She smiled, just slightly, and turned away.
Challenge accepted, I thought, staring at the ceiling with a smugness no baby had any right to possess my mind racing with posibilites of things i can accomplish in this world.
End of Chapter 2