{Odin's POV}
I sat on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling, and barely blinking.
While my thoughts hung somewhere between memory and ache.
A nurse sat at my side, small hands working delicately as she unwound the last of the bandages around my ribs.
She couldn't have been more than twenty.
Cute in a soft, ordinary way.
Her cheeks were flushed the entire time, lips pressed together like she was too shy to breathe near me.
While I barely noticed.
All I could see was Sera.
The conversation with Liora kept replaying in my head.
Where's my daughter?
You mean… our daughter?
Endlessness had strict rules.
Strict to the point of absurdity.
No "improper contact" — the devs had locked down even the smallest gestures.
You can't even give someone a peck on the cheeks, much less bump uglies with them.
But on the day of our second anniversary together, that notification had appeared.
"Congratulations on your second anniversary with a Divine Class NPC. This makes you eligible to purchase a Special Companion."
I clicked it out of curiosity more than anything. And then the screen changed.
The NPC that it displayed was a child.
The interface had displayed her as "offspring of Odin and Liora.".
A Seraphim. A ridiculously rare Divine-class NPC.
And I didn't hesitate.
I threw down more credits than any sane eighteen-year-old would… or could.
I customized her appearance until I saw both of us in her face.
The long lines of Liora's beauty blending with my own features.
One look at her, and you'd know who her parents were.
I still remember the moment she materialized and called me Dad.
I'd laughed, choked, and then… cried.
I, eighteen, barely an adult, was wiping my face like an idiot.
And Liora loved her even more.
She looked twelve at first.
But she grew fast, levelling and scaling, until she stood shoulder to shoulder with me in less than a year.
And I made her build flawless.
Pored over guides, combed through forums until my eyes were bloodshot before investing even a single Exp Point.
Treated every Exp Point like it was life or death.
Where my own build was full of wasted choices, hers was perfect.
She was everything I wasn't.
[Could she really be here?]
The thought gripped my chest like a vice.
[If she is… I don't care what I have to do. I will find her.]
A sharp sting tore me back into the present.
"Ow—!" I hissed, jerking my head down.
The nurse had pressed a glob of thick, green paste against the wound on my ribs.
Her eyes widened at my reaction, and her blush deepened until it reached her ears.
"Apologies, Sir…" she whispered, voice so small it was almost lost in the room's air.
I winced again, biting back a curse. "Ma'am… is this supposed to hurt this bad?"
Her hands fluttered nervously as she spread the salve, her touch so careful it almost tickled.
"It means the herbs are working. If it stings, then… the corruption in the wound is halted."
I leaned back again with a sigh, letting her work, but my gaze drifted upward once more.
The ceiling blurred as the memory of Sera's voice echoed in my ears.
Dad…
And just like that, the ache was back.
"Oww—!"
[Come on… let me brood in peace!!]
The sting had me twitching, but the nurse barely looked up.
Her brow furrowed in concentration, lips pursed, tongue poking slightly out the corner as she worked with delicate precision - the same look a jeweler might wear carving fine detail into gold.
"Almost… done," she murmured, not even noticing the unconscious slip of expression.
The rest of my wounds were long gone, stitched back to nothing by whatever miracle tonics they brewed here.
Only this one remained. The jagged bite at my ribs. A hellhound's parting gift.
I grimaced and glanced down. "Say, ma'am… how come this one barely healed. I've had worse, and they're already gone."
She paused just long enough to dip her cloth into the green salve before pressing it gently over the scar. Her cheeks pinked as she spoke, soft but steady.
"Because this one is infected with corruption. If not treated properly, it will spread. And once it spreads…"
She swallowed faintly, her blush deepening, though her hands didn't falter, "…it overtakes the mind. We call it Monster Fever. The infection rots away reason and compels the victim to bite others in order to spread it further. Some wounds from monsters carry it… bites, scratches. This one does."
[Holy shit. Did she just describe a zombie virus to me? And I'm Infected!]
Her hands moved quickly now, wrapping fresh bandages in crisp layers, tying them neatly into place. Then she leaned back with a small, satisfied exhale.
"There… Done." Her eyes softened, a smile blooming across her face like the tension had finally broken.
I nodded. "Thank you."
She shook her head quickly, still flushed. "No, sir. Thank you. A great many people would've been lost if not for you."
- Knock. Knock.
And before I could even give consent, the door swung open.
The guy who stepped in looked like he'd fallen straight out of a pompous noble's catalogue: black robes lined with gold trimming, brown hair slicked back so tight it looked like he'd emptied a whole bottle of hairspray.
He pushed his glasses back up with a finger and asked, "Nina, should I wait outside?"
The nurse straightened, all business again, the blush gone from her cheeks. "No, sir. I've just finished." She packed her kit quickly and slipped past him without so much as a glance back.
And that's when it hit me.
[Wait… she was blushing at me?]
"Hello, good sir." The man placed a hand to his chest, gave a little bow, and introduced himself, "My name is Exander Elsessious. I am the Head Mage of the Duke of Cardella, Elric Hart."
He let the words hang in the air, eyes on me with the faintest smile, waiting to see if I'd jump, or bow, or faint in awe.
Yeah. I knew the type.
Remember my sister and aunt?
"And," he added with a widening grin, "I am also a Tier Seven High Mage."
"Cool," I said with a nod, keeping my face dead flat. "I'm Odin. Esper."
[Buddy, if you knew how many Tier Nine High Mages I've put down like rabid dogs back in Endlessness…]
"Say, Exander, was it?" I leaned back on my hands, tilting my head just slightly. "Didn't see you out there fighting last night. And I feel like I would've noticed an 'esteemed' Tier Seven High Mage such as yourself."
That cracked his smile.
"I—I was protecting the Duke!" His nostrils flared. "Do you know how many people had taken refuge in the Duke's mansion? I was the last line of defense against the Horde!"
"Sure," I said, flat as stone.
His teeth clenched audibly. "And who would have protected the Duke? Or the people, if the monsters reached the mansion?"
"My good sir," I said, deliberately imitating his earlier polished tone, "what part of me agreeing with you did you find offensive?"
Exander's nostrils flared once, twice, and then he launched into what looked like his favorite pastime: justifying himself.
"You must understand," he began, his tone clipped but polished, "the Duke's mansion is not just a residence. It is a bastion. A symbol of the city's continuity. If it had fallen… if I had faltered… the panic would have spread, morale would have crumbled, and Cardella itself may well have been lost. Holding that line was not cowardice. It was strategy. Calculated and necessary. A sacrifice of glory for—"
[God, this is so like my aunt. All he's missing is the wine glass in hand and a lecture about how everyone underestimates her genius.]
I leaned back further on the bed, arms folding loosely across my chest. My grin crept wider with each pompous syllable, and I found myself wishing for a bucket of popcorn.
That was when he finally noticed.
His speech stumbled mid-sentence.
His eyes narrowed at the little grin tugging across my lips.
And the realization flickered across his face that I was messing with him.
His jaw clicked shut.
For a heartbeat, I thought he'd keep going, spiral straight into a monologue that would end with me silently declaring him a clown in my head.
But no. To his credit, he stopped himself.
Exander straightened, cleared his throat, and with a sigh, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
His voice was steadier and cooler when it came again.
"Heh. You seem well enough. And if you truly are…" His smile returned, thinner, guarded. "The Duke wants to see you."
[If I truly am? Huh. Did I misjudge this poor guy?]
"I'm well enough," I said with a small nod.
"Splendid." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I will send someone with clothes for you."
He pivoted neatly on his heel, the robe swishing just slightly as he made for the door.
"Hey," I called out after him. "What about my weapons? And my clothes?"
He paused just long enough to glance back over his shoulder.
"Your Soul Armaments are with the Duke. He finds them… extremely fascinating."
And with that, Exander slipped out, the door clicking shut behind him.