Chapter 53: Legacy of Light (Updated)

[Sora's POV]

Two long years have passed since my wife's pregnancy began. Giants, I've learned, carry their young far longer than humans—and a giant bearing my child? That demanded even more patience. But now, the wait is finally over.

Since my children cannot inherit the Origin Bloodline, I forged a new legacy for them: Descendants of the Origin. To protect my wife and unborn twins, I deliberately avoided grafting an overwhelming bloodline onto them. Her body might not endure the strain of shaping such power, and their infant forms could fracture under the weight of abilities meant for gods. Instead, I laid a careful foundation:

Unmatched Regeneration (physical and mana-based), designed to scale as they grow.

Bloodline Assimilation—the ability to absorb, refine, and empower other bloodlines (excluding the Origin itself), stripping away any weaknesses.

When they're older, I'll show them the collected bloodlines of worlds and let them choose their own path.

The Birth of Legends

Today is the greatest day of my life—and the most terrifying. My wife labors inside the birthing chamber, my mother supporting her, while I wear grooves into the floor with my pacing. My father leans against the wall, smirking at my anxiety, though his white-knuckled grip on his sword betrays his own nerves.

Then—a cry. Sharp, alive, real. I freeze mid-step.

One child?

A second scream follows, louder, defiant.

Twins.

I'm through the door before the midwife can call me. My wife, drenched in sweat but glowing, cradles two squirming bundles. She's never looked more beautiful. I drop to my knees beside her, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. "You were magnificent," I murmur, channeling healing magic to cleanse her body, the sheets, the very air. "They're perfect. Thank you."

The Naming

My mother, tears streaking her cheeks, claps her hands. "Names, Sora! These little miracles need names!"

My wife and I exchange a glance. We'd prepared for one child, but fate gifted us two. I reach for the boy first. His tuft of blond hair (his mother's legacy) contrasts starkly with my golden eyes staring back at me.

"Lucis," I announce. "Latin for light."

The infant smiles, as if he understands. Of course he does. He's my son.

Next, the girl—her mother's violet eyes gleaming beneath a swirl of my black hair. "Auliya," I whisper, tracing her tiny fist. "Arabic for angel, helper." She coos, gripping my finger.

Then, the grandparents strike. My father swoops in to claim Auliya, while my mother snatches Lucis, their voices overlapping:

Grandma (cradling Lucis): "Oh, you'll be a menace, won't you? Just like your father! Grandma will spoil you rotten!"

Grandpa (rocking Auliya): "Listen well, princess. Any boy who courts you must first survive me. I'll bury the unworthy!"

I drag a hand down my face. Gods, not this again. Their coddling made me arrogant in my youth—blind to the world's cruelties until they carved the lesson into my bones. I won't let my children repeat that mistake. They'll learn strength and wisdom, light and shadow.

My wife's hand finds mine, her silent support steadying me. I pull her against my side, lips brushing her ear. "Thank you," I breathe again, because no other words suffice.

Two Years Later: Prodigies and Playmates

Lucis and Auliya are terrifyingly precocious—walking at eight months, speaking in full sentences by a year. I spoil them shamelessly (they're still babies, after all), but I also teach them. We roam the kingdoms, their lessons disguised as adventures: the history of the Fairy King's Forest recounted under its glittering canopy, the Giants' War framed as a bedtime story.

They've befriended the next generation of legends—the children of the Seven Deadly Sins:

Tristan (Meliodas and Elizabeth's fiery son)

Claudine (Escanor's daughter, already wielding a miniature Rhitta)

Bedivere (King and Diane's gentle giant)

Galahad (Gowther's eerily perceptive boy)

Percival (Ban and Elaine's mischievous girl)

The realm is at peace, but only because my presence stifles the darkness beneath. To ensure stability when I'm gone, I've drafted three decrees:

The Eternal Dungeon

A living labyrinth inspired by Danmachi, spawning monsters weekly.

Law: All parties must include one of every race—forcing cooperation.

The Celestial Academy

A city of science and cultivation, governed by a council of kings.

Free basic education in every kingdom; advanced studies here.

The Martian Gambit

A fabricated quest: kings must work together to retrieve a "wish-granting relic" from Mars.

Secretly, I'll show Earth's 21st-century technology to jumpstart progress.

These reforms will take a century to root. I'll stay to nurture them—but first, I need teachers worthy of my dungeon.

A God's Duel

I stride into the white expanse beyond Danmachi's world, my voice cracking the silence:

"I, Sora Origin, claim this realm by duel! My world against yours!"

Blaze, the overseer (a sneering figure a realm above me), materializes. "Your father's protection won't save you here, boy," he lies, thoughts screaming I'll make his death look accidental.

I bare my teeth. "I don't need it."

Blaze summons Val, a sword of molten arrogance. I retaliate:

"BAHAMUT—ANSWER ME!"

Reality shatters. Xymor, the Platinum Dragon God, erupts into being—180 feet of invincible scales, wings eclipsing stars. In human form, he drops to one knee, voice raw. "I failed you once. Never again."

I yank him into a crushing embrace. "You preserved my soul. That's all that matters."

Blaze whimpers, prostrating himself. "Mercy! The world is yours!"

As dominion floods my veins, Bahamut chuckles. "Still fearsome, am I?"

I throw back my head and laugh. "Let's go home."