Birth Registry – House Edward (1469–1471)
Edward Lancelot (Mother: Donna)
• Third Son
• Born: August 21, 1471
• Talent: "Avalon's Still Water" – Minor spiritual blessing
• Qualification: B
Edward Tristan (Mother: Sharon)
• Fourth Son
• Born: September 12, 1471
• Talent: "Musical Genius" – Perfect pitch and enhanced rhythmic sense
• Qualification: B
Edward Percival (Mother: Wendy)
• Fifth Son
• Born: October 29, 1471
• Talent: "Clear-Headed Fool" – Exceptionally high luck stat, instinctively clever
• Qualification: B
Edward Galahad (Mother: Mina)
• Sixth Son
• Born: December 1, 1469
• Talent: "Shield" – Natural defensive instinct
• Qualification: C+
Edward Jullia (Mother: Rose)
• Second Daughter
• Born: January 3, 1470
• Talent: "Wolf Nature" – Keen survival instincts, strong independence
• Qualification: C+
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In just over a year—early 1470 to late 1471—the Edward family exploded in size. Eight children, beginning with the monstrous prodigy Artoria.
Argus's reproductive output wasn't just impressive—it was the stuff of sea legends.
But raw numbers weren't the measure of legacy.
It was quality.
And Artoria, with her S+ talent and the terrifyingly majestic [Red Dragon King Physique], cast a shadow over every bloodline in the New World.
"Compared to her," Argus muttered once, "even the heavens look like a work in progress."
Among the five newest:
Four B-tier sons.
One C+ daughter.
By any standard, a bloodline worth kneeling to.
And yet—beneath the celebration, a riddle festered.
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A Subtle Decline
Argus sat alone in the manor's outer balcony, quill in hand, parchment unrolled. The moonlight was sharp, silvering his long blond hair as if fate itself highlighted his brooding.
He whispered, voice barely audible.
"Serena. Sally. Shella."
All three had borne powerful offspring—Artoria, Gawain, Agravain.
And now? They hadn't conceived again.
Not once.
No miscarriages. No illness. No decline in vitality. Just a sudden, cold stop.
He'd ruled out the obvious—his own fertility, the system malfunctioning, or some obscure illness.
And yet others—Donna, Sharon, Wendy, Mina, Rose, and more—were still pregnant, glowing, vibrant.
It gnawed at him.
"The system doesn't lie. So why the sudden silence?"
A knock interrupted him.
Serena stepped in, regal as ever. Not a strand out of place, her presence serene, yet calculating.
"You're thinking too much again," she said smoothly, folding her arms. "It's not like you."
Argus glanced at her. "It's exactly like me."
She approached, setting down a tea tray with practiced grace.
"Maybe it's nature's way of pacing us," she offered, voice velvet-wrapped steel. "You don't build a dynasty in a day."
"Or maybe it's sabotage. Unknown karma debt. Something I missed."
Serena arched a brow. "Or maybe it's a lesson, Argus. Even gods need patience."
He fell silent. She had a point.
But he hated not knowing.
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The Knights of the Round Table – Children's Edition
Later that week, he sat in his private study, the fireplace flickering low.
One hand hovered over his children's birth scroll.
He read the names aloud.
"Artoria. Gawain. Agravain. Lancelot. Tristan. Percival. Galahad. Jullia…"
Eight.
Eight souls. Eight cards drawn from destiny's deck.
He chuckled—low, half in amusement, half in disbelief.
"Without meaning to… I assembled my own Round Table."
What started as a tongue-in-cheek reference to his transmigrator past—a whim—now felt like prophecy.
"A King reborn in a pirate world," he murmured, "building a court of knights from his own blood."
There was something poetic about it. Inevitable.
His gaze turned solemn.
"But knights don't grow on sentiment."
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The Patriarch's Reflections
"I didn't start this for love," he admitted aloud.
There was no one else in the room, just the crackle of the fire and the silent hum of the system.
"It was strategy. A way to manipulate biology, the world, the rules. My system rewarded procreation, and I obliged."
But now?
"Now I see her eyes in Artoria," he whispered. "Serena's clarity. My will. That impossible pride."
"And Gawain… that boy could sell sand to a fish."
Even Agravain—cold, quiet, bruiser—was showing a terrifying resilience, like the world couldn't touch him unless it bowed first.
Argus leaned back, gazing at the wooden ceiling, thinking of the future.
These weren't pawns. Not anymore.
"They're my legacy."
He would not send them into chaos blind.
He would mold them into monsters.
Kings. Queens. Saints and Devils.
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System Interface – Status Update
[Edward Argus]
• Title: Patriarch of the Edward Family
• Children: 2 Daughters, 6 Sons
• Spiritual Energy: Level 5
• Life Energy: Level 20
• Conqueror's Haki: Level 5
He frowned.
Life Energy had surged—likely because most children had physical talents.
The logic was clear:
> Spiritual talents boosted Spiritual Energy.
Combat talents boosted Life Energy.
But Conqueror's Haki? It rose without rhyme or method.
No technique manuals. No clear correlation. Just an inner pressure that slowly coiled tighter.
"Perhaps it grows," he said, "not with strength—but with vision."
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Subfamily Resonance – Power Flow Mapping
Artoria → Regenerative Constitution → Whitebeard
Agravain → Tough Skin → Jozu
Gawain → Captivating Speech → Hiroshi
Lancelot → Serene Mind → Serena
Tristan → Calming Voice → Shella
Percival → Luck Enhancement → None Yet
Galahad → Defense Boost → None Yet
Jullia → Sensory Boost → Doma
He stared at the names.
Each connection reinforced his web. Like tendrils of bloodline influence fusing his empire tighter.
But some—Percival, Galahad—still lacked a bonded recipient.
"Eventually," he murmured, "they'll find theirs."
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– The Web of Mothers
Each woman in his harem wasn't just a vessel—they were players in their own right.
Serena: Composed, ambitious, terrifying in political maneuvering. She had already begun overseeing internal court succession plans with Brad Shaw's Ohara scholars.
Sally: Social and enchanting. She'd become the unofficial foreign relations manager—knowing everyone, hugging everyone, binding Totto Land together with emotional glue.
Shella: Stoic, blunt, proud. Her Sea King project—Tidecoil, Ridgefang, Slithmire—was nearing a breakthrough. She wanted beasts that could birth fleets, not just battles.
Sharon: Flirtatious, musically gifted. The palace echoed with lullabies and madness in equal measure.
Mina and Rose: Scheming partners, likely playing an internal game Argus hadn't yet decoded—but valuable for their ambition.
Wendy: Quietly sharpening her blade. Determined to never be powerless again. Her obsession with strength rivaled Shella's.
Donna, Sandy, Betty, Emma, Claire, Karla—each unique. Some nurturing, others scholarly. All pieces of the grand design.
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[Scene Transition – Family Hall – Midmorning]
Serena, poised and composed, was organizing scrolls brought by scholars from Ohara.
Sally leaned over her shoulder, waving a piece of paper.
"Another list of baby names," she teased. "Think we'll break twenty by the end of the year?"
Serena's gaze didn't lift. "If we do, we'll need a second castle. And a third wet nurse regiment."
Shella grunted from the corner where she cleaned her blade. "We also need to train the guards better. One of the outer patrols let a Sea King drift too close again. Tidecoil nearly crushed the dock."
"Maybe I'll compose a lullaby about that," Sharon giggled, tuning her shamisen. "The Ballad of the Dock-Kraken."
"That's a stupid name," Mina snapped, eyeing her son Galahad curled up under a blanket. "You think we can raise warriors on soft notes and sea shanties?"
"Relax, Mina." Rose joined her twin at the tea table. "Music softens the mind. You'd know that if you had one."
Serena raised an eyebrow. "Enough. We have children to raise, not another civil war."
Donna entered next, guiding little Lancelot who clutched a small wooden sword. She spoke softly to Serena, "He's… different. Quieter. But when he looks at water, it's like he's listening to something."
"He has his blessing," Argus said from the doorway, voice calm. "Let it grow in its own way."
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The Long View
Later that night, Argus watched the horizon bleed into dusk from his balcony. Karla sat beside him, rocking a cradle.
"Do you ever get tired?" she asked gently.
"Of building?" Argus replied. "Never. But I wonder what kind of world they'll face when I'm gone."
Claire poked her head in. "Dinner's ready. The little Percival tried to eat the spice rack again."
"Of course he did," Argus muttered, smiling faintly. "Luckiest fool in the sea."
He rose, eyes firm, voice resolute.
"There will be more children. More legends. More heirs."
"The Round Table will not be myth in this life."
"It will be empire."
A dynasty etched into tides of blood and iron.
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(CHAPTER END)