The sky above the Spirit Realm trembled.
Dark clouds gathered, forming a swirling vortex of divine energy. Thunder crackled now and then—just to remind everyone that today’s weather... was extremely moody.
Beneath that ominous sky, spirits, gods, and countless holy beings knelt in silence. They were all waiting for a single command—from one being: Reyhan Alther.
Once, he was nothing more than a breeze. A formless whisper, only capable of flipping short skirts in village squares.
Now, he stood at the peak of existence, wearing a flowing black-and-gold robe that flapped dramatically because... well, he is the wind.
From the front row, Sylphia Astheris stepped forward—his first follower, a woman with silver-white hair and eyes as sharp as a dagger made of moonlight.
She knelt before Reyhan.
"Father," she said—quiet, but firm.
Reyhan looked at her, his gaze calm and full of meaning.
Internally, however, he was still confused...
’When exactly did I start getting called ’Father’ by all these people?’
"The army is ready," Sylphia continued, her voice steady. "We await only your command. This final battle will decide everything."
Reyhan gave a slow nod, trying his best to appear majestic—even though a gust of wind accidentally sent a giant flag straight into his face for two full seconds.
A nearby spirit quickly pulled the flag down, wordlessly.
Behind him, some of the gods whispered among themselves.
A tiny young spirit—fresh out of the Spirit Recruitment Trials—nudged his friend and asked,
"Wait... he’s the father? But they look, like... the same age?"
A senior spirit nearby answered in a flat tone,
"You must be new. We’re all his children."
The little one glanced left and right.
A sea of spirits and gods from all kinds of races nodded solemnly.
"For real? So everyone here is... his kid?"
"Yup," said a lightning spirit with a nod.
The tiny spirit gulped, then asked innocently,
"Then... who’s the mother?"
Silence.
The wind stopped.
Lightning froze mid-air.
A few gods coughed on purpose.
Water spirits took two steps back.
Earth spirits bowed their heads as if in prayer—but were just trying not to laugh.
Sylphia slowly turned around with a gaze that said, "Who just said that?"
Reyhan closed his eyes. Took a long breath.
In his mind...
’There’s always one. Every thousand years, there’s always one who asks that.’
An old spirit gently patted the kid’s shoulder.
"Don’t ever ask that again, child. Last time someone did... half the universe imploded."
"Seriously?" the little one whispered. He immediately froze, turning into a metaphorical rock.
Meanwhile, Reyhan opened his eyes and raised one hand.
The wind began to swirl, carrying a divine aura that shook the entire cosmos.
...And, in his excitement, a gust of wind launched an old god’s hat straight into the stratosphere.
Reyhan didn’t react.
Let it go, he thought. Part of the divine drama.
"Then let this final wind bear witness...
as the universe bows before my name."
A deafening cheer erupted.
Spirits raised their weapons. Gods shouted in unison.
Even a tree spirit hollered, "THAT’S MY FATHER!"—though it got lightly bonked by a rock spirit right after.
And so the wind blew, carrying power, destiny... and just a bit of lingering awkward silence.