MARS: Year 60,457 AWC — June 11
In a bustling Martian city known as Elyndra, a blue hover car sped through the air at a height far above the others. While most vehicles cruised five to ten meters above the ground, this one soared ten meters higher still — twenty meters in total, the standard altitude reserved for emergency travel.
At the controls sat a middle-aged man with hair as dark as night and crimson eyes. Tattoos covered his brown skin like flowing lines of ancient script. This was Henry Phoenix, an alchemist in the early Liquid Realm of the energy path and the late Core Realm of the body path.
You might wonder what had him in such a hurry. Perhaps it was the call he'd received thirty minutes earlier — his friend from the city hospital had told him his wife had just gone into labor.
Ten minutes later, Henry parked his hover car in the hospital lot. He stepped out quickly and broke into a run toward the entrance.
At the reception desk stood a beautiful elf — long ears, brown skin, and emerald eyes. She looked up as Henry rushed in, noting the urgency in his expression.
"Good day, sir. How may I assist you?" she asked calmly.
"I'm here for my wife, Emma Phoenix. I was told she went into labor about an hour ago," he said, his voice hurried yet low so as not to draw too much attention.
The elf tapped rapidly on the light-screen embedded in her desk.After getting some more information from him, a red beam appeared her flying around before moving away.
"Follow the pixy," she said. "he will guide you to the labor ward."
"Thank you," Henry replied, already moving.
As he approached the ward, the sharp cry of a newborn echoed through the hallway.
"Wah! Wah!"
Turning toward the sound, Henry saw a young woman with blonde hair tied in a bun holding a crying infant. She rocked the child gently, trying to soothe him.
"Vera!" Henry called out.
Looking up, Vera smiled. "Hey, you're finally here! Look — it's a boy. Congratulations."
Henry hurried over and took the baby into his arms, staring down at the still-crying child. Damp strands of black hair peeked from beneath the tiny cap, and even through tears, the baby's crimson eyes shimmered faintly.
"Where's Emma?" Henry asked, worry lacing his voice.
"She's fine," Vera said with a soft sigh. "Just exhausted — labor isn't easy, you know. She'll be all right after a few hours of rest."
Henry nodded, his expression softening. As the minutes passed, the child gradually stopped crying and drifted into sleep. Looking down at his newborn son, Henry felt an overwhelming surge of joy.
Across from the cradle, Emma lay on the hospital bed, her black hair splayed across the pillow. Her bright crimson eyes — tinged with gold — met his. Like Henry, intricate tattoos ran across her skin.
With a tired but gentle smile, she whispered, "He's gorgeous, isn't he?"
Henry smirked. "Of course. Who do you think his father is?"
Emma gave him a look that said You're impossible, but she was too exhausted to argue. The midwife had already advised her to rest and that was exactly what she planned to do.
Just as her eyelids began to close, a voice echoed — not in the room, but directly in their minds.
"Hello, little ones."
Emma's eyes snapped open, meeting Henry's equally shocked gaze. The voice hadn't come from outside.
Without hesitation, Henry raised a barrier around himself, Emma, and the baby. He was about to ignite his essence when the voice spoke again