Aria squinted at the radiant object perched on the stone pedestal in the center of the fountain. A massive egg, no less—its crystalline surface shimmered gold and red, with streaks of glowing white at the pointed tip. Light bounced off its glossy shell, refracting like a jewel in the sunless sky of the hidden garden.
"…You're an egg," Aria said flatly, one eyebrow twitching.
"I'm not," replied the voice, echoing clearly inside his mind—light, impatient, undeniably childlike.
Aria crossed his arms. "I'm looking right at you."
"I'm standing in front of you."
"I can see what's in front of me," Aria retorted, nodding toward the very obvious egg.
The egg gave a visible shiver, its glossy surface pulsing faintly. "I haven't hatched yet."
"Clearly," Aria muttered.
"I've been down here for centuries… Not enough energy to hatch," the voice added, almost like a pout. The egg quivered again, vibrating with restrained frustration.
Aria felt his shoulders drop. After everything—the descent into the sealed ruin, the strange riddles, the endless traps, and that ethereal voice poking into his head—he'd expected a powerful artifact or ancient guardian. Not this.
Not an egg.
"Are you a monster?" he asked aloud, more to himself than the egg.
There was silence.
And then, like a whisper riding the wind: "…Father?"
That pulled Aria up short. "What?"
"Do you… hate me?" the voice asked, tremulous and low.
Aria blinked. His mouth opened, then closed.
"You didn't answer," it said again. "So you do hate me…"
The egg's radiant shell darkened like ink spilled into light. Gold dimmed into brassy bronze, and red dulled into rust. Aria took a cautious step forward. It responded to emotion—he could feel it. The shift wasn't magical, but personal.
"No, no," he said quickly, licking his lips. "I don't hate you. I'm just… surprised."
He crouched by the fountain, staring at the egg. All this time, the sassy voice teasing him through the dungeon trials belonged to… this. A child, not yet born.
"Look, I'm sorry. You just caught me off guard," he added.
Still, no reply.
With a grunt, Aria hoisted himself onto the fountain ledge. He reached out, hands closing around the smooth, cool surface of the egg. It was heavier than he expected—much heavier.
As he jumped down, nearly stumbling, he muttered, "What have you been eating in there?"
The egg remained silent.
Aria groaned. "Great. Now I've made a child sulk. Just like Kyle…"
His chest tightened with the memory—his younger brother, who'd once ignored him for days after Aria broke his favorite toy gun. It was one of the quietest, most guilt-ridden weeks of his life.
Kyle… That boy had refused to go by the religious name their parents gave him, insisting on "Kyle" after a character from some old Earth film. Kyle XY. Aria chuckled faintly. He missed those days.
Then, the egg pulsed.
"Whoa—!"
Light blazed from the egg, forcing Aria to stagger back. The glow was fierce, intense—as bright as a fallen star. Reflexively, he shielded his eyes.
"Hey! What are you doing now?" he shouted over the hum of building energy.
But it didn't respond.
The brilliance faded as quickly as it had appeared, snuffed out like a candle. Aria lowered his arm and blinked through the afterglow. The egg now had a new look: the gold had darkened to brown, earthy and warm, but the streaks of red and white remained untouched.
He approached cautiously. "Are you alright?"
No response.
Aria sighed, hands on his hips. "Still not talking, huh?"
The egg sat motionless.
He scanned the surrounding garden. It was vibrant and overgrown with flowers, but offered no clear path forward. Only one stone walkway had led him here, and the entrance he'd come from was now sealed shut. The wall had already reconstructed itself.
"The gods are definitely playing with me," he muttered.
Ah-choo!
Far away, in another realm, a goddess sneezed into a silk handkerchief.
"Goddess!" a panicked servant called out, rushing to her side with a velvet blanket.
She waved him off. "Don't worry, Frederick. I'm not sick."
Still, she wrapped herself in the blanket, her golden eyes narrowing.
"…Do I feel like someone's talking about me?" she murmured.
Back in the garden, Aria was struggling again. Carrying the egg by hand had become unbearable—the burst of light must've increased its weight. He wasn't weak, but even with a level 3 strength modifier, it was like hauling a small boulder. Eventually, he had to stash it in his system storage, letting it hover in dimensional stasis.
Still no word from the kid.
Aria walked through the field of flowers, carefully stepping atop stones or thin ledges to avoid crushing the vibrant life beneath his boots. A part of him hated silence, especially now.
The voice had been a constant. It teased him, bragged about riddles, and laughed when he fell for illusions. And yet… it had been his only companion in this forsaken ruin. Without it, the quiet gnawed at him.
He wasn't much for teams—never had been. Adventuring with others often meant politics, leadership squabbles, or worse—someone discovering his real power. Secrets were valuable. Intel sold for high prices in adventurer markets, and Aria had too much to lose.
He leapt over another hedge of violet petals and landed near a peculiar stone arch.
There—stairs.
Hidden beneath creeping vines and curling ivy, the stone steps led down into shadow.
"…That's new."
He studied the path. No markings, no glowing runes, no guideposts. It hadn't been visible from the fountain. That in itself was suspicious.
'Just go,' said the voice.
Aria blinked. "You're speaking again?"
Silence.
"Great."
He eyed the pathway. "Is there anything you want to take with you? From this place?"
A pause. Then, from his storage, the egg quivered faintly.
'No. I don't have anything… since I'm just an egg.'
Aria smirked. "Right. Just an egg."
He rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small laugh that slipped out. The sarcasm, the moodiness, the tiny voice—it all reminded him so much of Kyle.
"I hope you're less dramatic after hatching," he said, stepping onto the stairs.
Unbeknownst to him, something shifted.
A black sphere hovered near the fountain, unseen by mortal eyes. From within, a figure observed silently, lips curled in a playful smile.
The watcher giggled softly.
"Well," they whispered, "this is getting fun."