Just a little more and Little Chu Zao would have managed to shove his cub milk into Amos’s mouth, full of emotion.
In the past, as he’d seen with other little angels and their parents—whether causing trouble, being praised, or anything else, the cub had witnessed it all.
Except birthdays.
He had never attended a birthday party, nor celebrated his own birthday. For him, birthdays were just ordinary days.
He didn’t even know what one was supposed to do on a birthday.
Even the words Feeney used to wish Amos a happy birthday, the little cub had happily copied.
Cakes, gifts, celebrations—these were luxuries unimaginable for the little cub who curled up with his wings in his windy, leaky little hut, worrying what he’d eat tomorrow.
The little crown atop his head was for once put away, with only the little gold crown Amos had found for him sitting on his soft, fluffy black curls.
This little gold crown was not as splendid as the Crown Clan’s own halos, but to Zao Zao, it was from family, and that was enough.
The cub lay in Amos’s arms, bawling.
Still childish, still carrying a left-over fever, the whole cub in a daze.
He asked—“So this is a birthday… Is it really like this?”
Everyone had their own thoughts about this plan, and even up until the cub started to cry, the Crown Clan were all griping about their own clever ideas not getting picked—until silence fell.
They all looked at the six-year-old cub clinging to Amos’s neck.
And all, unspoken, felt something strange—
Especially this generation of the Crown Clan—
Watching a cub grow up, it turned out, felt like this.
So these Crown Clanners, usually lacking much empathy even for their own kind, had started meetings days earlier, half complaining how any crown could be prettier than Zao Zao’s halo, half seeking the best minerals for gifts.
Some thought celebrating birthdays was too ceremonial; they’d never cared much for their own birthdays, yet every one of them prepared gifts, secretly flew to other planets for nice wrapping paper, or bought little fireworks.
Let alone Zao Zao’s cake.
Amos had started preparing early; even had Butler Mori arrange various egg cake trials. Of course, the Crown Clan were hopeless in kitchens. Eventually, royal chefs were brought.
Little Chu Zao cried, then gulped some more cub milk that Amos refused.
He looked up, his face even redder from fever and now also from crying, his eyes ringed in red.
Amos wiped his face and answered his little cub.
“No, it should’ve been even grander.”
Amos’s voice was calm, soothing to the cub.
“Last proclamation and this birthday—either could have been a bigger ceremony.”
But apart from the missing royal solemnity, nothing seemed missing, nothing to regret.
A sixth birthday on the battlefield.
Not bad, really.
The little one sniffled, “This is Zao Zao’s first, my first birthday… This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”
He choked out, still in his baby voice, as Amos held him.
If only he could have—
Amos would have liked to have said years ago: ‘Happy first birthday to my beloved son—Chu Zao Dwight.’
“Alright, things are chaotic enough, and you’ll cry yourself into a kitty. Time to blow candles and open presents—”
Anya’s shoulder injury had mostly healed; while bedbound, he hadn’t dared to show up before the sick cub.
Sick little cubs are unreasonable, always looking at him in a way that made him feel getting hurt was a huge sin.
The one comfort for Anya—a Crown Clanner himself—was realizing his standing with Zao Zao was no longer rock-bottom.
Hahaha—
Anya glanced at Ayala, who’d succeeded, with Feiman’s help, in blocking the cub and getting him into this room.
Ayala stared ahead, expressionless.
With his strong, darkish skin, single eyelids, and dislike of looking people in the eye, he gave off an air of total cold arrogance—certainly, that’s how he seemed to the cub, for whatever reason.
To the cub, he was just very scary.
Every time Zao Zao went to the command room to find Amos, he’d carefully scan for Ayala.
The cub was seated.
Feiman lounged at the door, shrugged, her cool beauty tinged with helplessness.
Heavens knew she just stole a few extra kisses.
Feeney drifted closer.
As the cub blew out the candles, he smiled and peeked at the milk in Zao Zao’s hands.
“Amos won’t drink it, but Third Uncle will! Give Third Uncle a taste, huh?”
Honestly, he was curious for ages.
He barely remembered his own cub days—they all grew up well-cared for, and at this cub’s age, cub milk wasn’t needed.
So all the Crown Clan stared in disbelief.
…Typical Feeney.
Sniffling, the little one looked up, totally agreeable right now, and generously twisted off the bottle cap for third uncle—
He lifted the bottle, ready to pour it into Feeney’s cup.
But just earlier, he’d gulped so much that there was almost none left.
Still sluggish from fever, and dazed by birthday surprises, he hadn’t realized.
He poured and poured—
Only a single drop came out.
The cub blinked.
Tried again—
Nothing, save the drop hanging on the rim.
He put the bottle back and, like a good cub, licked off the last drop.
Then looked at Feeney.
Feeney: …
Feeney stared at the lone drop in his cup, uncharacteristically dazed.
“Hahaha—”
Merlin cracked first.
He’d meant to scold Feeney—what kind of adult Crown Clanner steals milk from a cub?
Now, after a few quiet seconds, he burst out laughing.
Kaman, face propped in hand, snickered lazily.
“Be content—”
He glanced at the stunned Feeney.
“Zao Zao shared with you, that’s generosity.”
Frey, quiet and distant, only now curved his lips at his brother’s antics.
Now the cub realized, paused, and declared, “Teacher told me—even though it’s only a drop, I gave third uncle exactly half of what I had!”
Yes, exactly half.
Doesn’t that make you happy?
Feeney: …
Feeney was dragged back by the smiling Feiman and Anya, still gripping his cup and doubting life.
The cub received gifts and tasted the cake.
On a pretty porcelain plate, he prodded the cake with a fork.
Cream smudged his cheeks and, nearly failing to stop a huge mouthful just now, he also left a dab of white on his nose.
The room was a rarely used, large meeting suite.
With a huge window, adjustable to view outside.
The cub was set at the window, Amos behind, smoothing his messy curls strand by strand, and then, one by one, tidied the cub’s snowy wings.
Both pairs of wings were out, fluffy and messy.
Holy Cas’s warship was actually suspending at an officially dangerous distance, a bit too close to the ground.
The cub saw that in the past days, the ruined houses and rubble below had been cleared.
People bustled about below, busy with something.
Although the cub was now awake, on Mining Planet No. 78 it should’ve been morning, yet the sky was dim, the main star not out, the planet’s odd climate at play—
Clear and crisp, and if you looked up, you might see the cosmic stars.
Suddenly, bang—
A new burst of light shot up in the distance and exploded, speckling the cub’s eyes with points of light.
Fireworks.
Victory and celebration fireworks.
All Holy Cas troops, wherever they were, set them off at once, the sound like both cheering and proclamation.
Below the fireworks, the cub saw Wen Qingfeng, still wrapped in bandages but grinning and waving up, while not far away, Wen Qingyu stared flatly while cracking her knuckles, like she was ready to drag someone who’d escaped from the medical bay back.
As Amos finished with the cub’s wings, he wondered—surely the little one wouldn’t grow any more wings?
He already had to tidy six a day—his own two, and four for the cub.
But right now—
Amos lowered his head and met Chu Zao’s eyes.
“This is the Holy Cas star system, Zao Zao will live here for many, many years and have many, many birthdays.”
No matter Zao Zao’s past, or the “future” glimpsed by Amos, that was all behind them.
The Holy Chalice Clan starship was slowly moving out of Holy Cas territory.
Clan leader Caverno clutched his psychic chalice—the base—and stared blankly, doubting everything.
Derrick sat beside him, sitting up straight and trying to hide his tearful nature again.
They were taking some from Holy Cas’s medical team and troops, to build a new defense line and medical center for the Holy Chalice, to curb the plague’s spread.
During this time, the Holy Chalice Clan and Holy Cas had hammered out deals, with all top results to be shared.
And one benefit—until some cure for their plague was found, Zao Zao would help those too far gone—by “chomping” and then spitting it out.
To Little Chu Zao, psychic power from Holy Chalice wasn’t tasty, but the crunchiness of the “bad” bits was addicting.
This made father and son of the Holy Chalice Clan shudder whenever they saw the cub.
They, too, could hear the Holy Cas military salutes.
—or rather, surrounded by the Holy Cas troops escorting them, they could hardly miss the roar—
In less than half a month, the full counterattack, commander-level mutant beast eliminated on day one, then sweeping the rest with forceful, decisive action.
“Papa, are you alright, Papa?”
Derrick came over, wanting to check Caverno’s psychic chalice… base.
But Caverno moved it away.
“I’m fine; but this showed all your shortcomings, not a patch on that little Crown Clanner. When we get back, your education will be reviewed—”
Derrick, holding his chalice with a bite mark: …
Then Caverno pulled Derrick in for a hug.
“Thankfully—”
Caverno looked out at the stars.
The Holy Chalice Clan had always congratulated themselves for their choices, certain each was the right one.
But with every seemingly safe choice, they inched toward a dead end.
Thankfully…
“Derrick, thank goodness we still have a chance to choose again.”
*
Somewhere in the galaxy.
A small starship expertly slipped through defences before, completely cut off, it was caught by a larger ship and taken to an even bigger starship.
The Hymn Organization’s mark was engraved on it.
This was a moving base.
In the meeting room.
“Our operating range keeps shrinking—”
“This is bad for us; the ‘envoy’ from the polluted depths was wiped out quickly by the Crown Clan, which was unforeseeable.”
“Crown Clan… again the Crown Clan… again that little cub. Is there no plan that targets that little guy perfectly?”
The twisted voice brimmed with malice.
“But the Crown Clan has started exploring inside the pollution, finding ways through. The barriers between us and the gods may be breaking—this is a chance. It means the sealed ‘envoys’ might hit the Crown Clan too—unfortunately, the ‘envoys’ can’t cooperate or be controlled. We can only hide.”
“Exploring the pollution will be step one of Crown Clan’s ruin. We need to wait for a chance—a moment when the Crown Clan lapses. I don’t believe they can always guard that little prince—”
“And, credit for this breather goes to our previously developed followers—everyone was right. The follower named Shenghua really did make a difference.”
“I seem to recall the test subject Xi is supposed to be monitoring her? By now, Xi should be due to report.”
“We need more checks to see if she can handle more responsibility.”
“But just sending Xi alone, is that enough?”
“No, as Shenghua reported earlier, she’s an ambitious plotter; her god-faith is firming up. Let things run their course. With an obedient subject, we have ways to keep him in line.”
…
Xi watched the ship’s autopilot cut, every screen flickering out.
When it all stopped, he stepped out of the starship.
“Test subject, Xi?”
A Hymn member in a cloak, holding forms, scanned Xi with a device.
“Come.”
He entered a dark room.
Xi sat, facing a projection of a high-level Hymn figure—who grilled him in great detail about Shenghua’s every move, judging if she’d kept to her claims.
After a while, it became routine.
“Tell us, what resources did that ambitious miss demand this time?”
Xi paused, looking up at the projection, clearly annoyed, but finally spoke.
“What’s on the other side of the pollution? Do you know? Can you evade those mutant beasts?”
His voice was hoarse.
A pause.
“Is that her question, or yours?”
Xi said nothing, head bowed, his body beginning to tremble—with pain.
To the Hymn Organization, these deranged test subjects just needed to obey, execute, and not think.
Holy Cas had their selfless armies; so did they.
“Whether it’s you or the ambitious young lady, her daring is admired, but you don’t need to know so much. What you need to know, you will.”
The projection almost seemed to relish Xi’s pain, watching his veins bulge, before hitting a button.
A syringe rose slowly from the table.
Xi grabbed it, plunging it into his arm.
The projection had vanished long since.
Xi took a long time to catch his breath, then finally looked up, black hair wet, eyes gloomy and twisted.
*
On Holy Cas Imperial Star.
The returning Imperial army slipped quietly to base.
The cub’s fever broke, and as he recovered, the whole army headed home.
On reentry, the cub saw his teachers and others waiting.
But the trip had worn him out; after greeting Hel and the rest, he soon fell back asleep.
He’d need to rest a good while longer.
Now, meetings with the rest of Holy Cas were on the schedule for Chu Zao.
But for the little one, sleeping soundly in his own bed was the most reassuring feeling in the world.
Those troubles were finally past.
It was not until the second day, waking up back in the royal court, that his full memories returned.
The tiny cub climbed up in a daze then burrowed under the blankets, showing only four little wings.
Zao Zao hugged his ghost bear, lying in the soft bedding, now questioning his life—
Did he cry and snitch before…? Not the first time, always during his fever when he got fuzzy.
Because of a candy?
Because of wings he didn’t get to eat.
What else had he cried and shouted about?
Hadn’t he tangled up Baba’s psychic threads, shouting with the halo, all furious?
Now, his sick-time tantrums played vividly in his memory—was Baba alright?
Wooaah!
The ruffled little cub grabbed his head, then poked it out from the blankets.
Clutching his face, bear in his arms.
He looked down at his little ghost bear.
When Amos came in to check if he was awake and to say Hel had arrived, he saw a wobbly-haired little cub sitting on the soft bed, still dazed, muttering to his ghost bear.
Milkily, in a tiny voice, he fussed: “Bear Bear, why didn’t you remind Zao Zao?”
Amos raised an eyebrow.
He was, for once, less formally dressed, standing at the door.
Watching the tiny one murmur in the blankets.
“If you’d reminded Zao Zao, I wouldn’t have had such a messy time snitching. What? You say it was your fault? Fine, Zao Zao forgives you.”
A few mumbled sentences and he’d cheered himself up, ready to move on. He lifted the covers, prepared to get out of bed, and saw Amos standing nearby.
Little Chu Zao blinked big eyes.
“Baba?”
“Awake?”
Amos stood at the door, watching the cub stiffen.
“Remember everything now?”
His Majesty deliberately went to the bedside, sat down, and looked the cub in the eye.
Old memories, of trying to hang up but failing, flooded back.
His Majesty Amos, with deliberate mischief, praised softly—though still sounding mature and steady—“Baby, you sure are loud.”
Still spirited, even when sick. Not bad.
Little Chu Zao stared at Amos, blank: …Um!
Past memories attacking again! Back then, anxious to tattle, he’d cried and tangled threads for ages, and left them that way for a long time.
The cub hugged his bear then reached out a little hand to cover Amos’s mouth.
He tried to deny:
“What did Baba say? Zao Zao doesn’t remember—”
Yes, that was it.
If there was a problem, it was his ghost bear’s fault. Bear Bear knew everything. Bear Bear would take responsibility.