The most troublesome part about parenting a newborn artificial mind was that I was blundering alone into uncharted territory—

No, that wasn’t quite right. I’d had my fair share of blunders in uncharted territory, and it wasn’t necessarily troublesome, as a general rule. But they had rarely involved someone else paying the price for my mistakes.

The problem here was that the former Wight — former, as I could no longer lump him with those simple automatons — was an actual sapient being, for whose wellbeing I was now responsible. This made my usual approach of ‘prod it with a stick, see what happens, repeat’ useless for this scenario, because in most of those cases the metaphorical prodding led to minds and souls collapsing into a pile of mush.

Naturally, that was not an acceptable outcome.

I needed an alternative approach, so for the moment I took a step back and decided to let the baby skeleton make the first move.

The two glowing orbs peered at me with incomprehension from under his coif — then they shifted left and right as he grew aware of the world around him. There wasn’t much for him to see: a dark room, an unmoving corpse, a few disoriented Wights, with a placid, sheep-like gaze in their eyes. Finally, Winnie and I.

The former Wight had sent me no more thoughts after I told him I was his father. He seemed content with the situation and needed nothing more.

I watched as he locked eyes with Winnie and felt the communication flowing between them. They spoke not with words, not even with images, but with feelings. Solitude, longing, and—

Family.

Winnie snorted, but lifted his great bulk off the floor to nudge the skeleton with his head — though, Winnie’s sheer mass, combined with his enhancements turned the nudge into something closer to a shove, and the skeleton lost his footing, clattering to the floor. He was soon back on his feet, patting Winnie’s head with a gloved hand.

Seeing the scene unfold made my next step clear. The still nameless skeleton was pitifully weak, his body merely the standard Wight fare. He’d hold his own against a normal soldier, but given the horrors we were up against, he was as good as an ant. There was no way I could bring him close to the dragons in this state.

Eventually, Winnie decided he’d had enough socialization for the day and shuffled off to his own corner of the room. The skeleton was distraught and glanced wildly around the room. He found me behind him, and I motioned for us to sit on the floor.

He seemed much calmer once he realized I was there. My gut told me it was the shock of gaining sapience, the shock of being born. Everything was new, and he was scared, and he needed someone to distract him from all the new feelings flowing through him.

I hoped I was up to the task.

I figured finding something other than ‘the skeleton’ to call him was a good place to start. “Do you have a name?” I knew he didn’t — was almost sure he didn’t, but it would be a good anchor for his feelings.

To my surprise, he nodded.

“Truly? You have a name?”

He nodded again, and it came with an impression. ‘Hello there,’ a woman said. And then she said it again — and again — and again, over countless days.

I blinked. “You think your name is There?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

“There isn’t a name — ‘hello there’ is a phrase. It’s a greeting.”

He looked unconvinced. Another impression hit me. ‘Greetings,’ the man said as he tipped his hat. Day after day after day.

“That one as well. Those people weren’t calling your name, they were simply saying hello.” And what an odd thing to see, people treating a Wight as if he were a person — and what an interesting outcome, for that very Wight to become a person.

He had no face with which to frown, but the impression of frustration became clear as day. He sent the last sequence again, but clipped short, the beginning and the end inaudible. ‘—Etin—’

Comprehension dawned. “Etin? Is that what you want to be called?”

The skeleton nodded — no, Etin nodded, and I got the vague feeling of a challenge being set. He wanted this and was ready to defend his chosen name.

But there was no reason for me to protest. “It’s good to meet you, Etin,” I said with a smile.

Surprise followed by joy radiated from Etin’s head. Some people were said to wear their hearts on their sleeves, but Etin did it almost literally. His feelings flowed about him like an aura, not a single bone of deception in his entire body.

For a moment, I thought to give Etin the same mind enhancements I had given Winnie prior to his transformation, but the idea died before I could finish thinking of it. Etin wasn’t a construct anymore. He was a person, and it was wrong to alter his mind without proper cause. But I could just as well enchant his body…

“Etin. I’d like to cast some magic on you — it will make you stronger, faster, and sturdier. What do you think?”

To my surprise, Etin didn’t hesitate for a moment before nodding vigorously, eagerness pouring off him in waves.

I tilted my head in confusion. I expected him to agree, but with such enthusiasm? “Does this make you happy?”

Etin nodded and leaned over, grabbing my sleeve as to tell me to hurry.

Stolen story; please report.

“Why do you want strength so much?”

To protect, came the reply — still barely a word, and closer to the feeling of safety, of comfort.

“Ah. You want to protect yourself,” I said, nodding. “That is wise.”

Etin shook his head.

I frowned. “No?”

Protect. Father, he thought, with the same eagerness as before.

I watched him, agape for a few seconds, and he tugged harder on my sleeve. Finally, I relented and began to work. Etin calmed down once I did.

While I worked, to keep him from falling back into an existential crisis, and to keep myself from doing the same, I began spinning him the tale of how we’d gotten here — all the way from when he’d been born, the first time. He listened with rapt attention, his bones trembling when I spoke of my failures and regrets.

We spent hours that way, and in time, I became more and more comfortable with his presence. Even as I was done with the enchantments, I continued to speak, and not once did he stop listening.

It was only when two wide-eyed Heroes burst into the room that he finally looked away. And suddenly, all he wanted to do was to meet his new siblings.

As it turned out, Etin was quite shy around strangers. He was comfortable with Winnie, as they’d berthed together for weeks before his awakening, but he’d only caught bare glimpses of Sarah and Cameron. He took a step back as they entered the room, hiding behind me — yet curiosity and the desire to meet them roiled off him.

Unexpectedly, Sarah didn’t barge into the room in her usual hurricane-like manner. Instead, she peered cautiously from the doorframe, as if expecting to find some disaster had happened. She didn’t notice Etin — or rather, assumed him to be part of the scenery, just another mindless Wight.

“Hey, did something happen?” she asked as she stepped inside.

Interesting, I thought. Had she felt Etin’s awakening? It was possible, given the links of mana binding all of my creations together. The Revenants’ were weaker, given that they used their own mana to stay alive, but they were still there.

“Why do you think something happened?” I asked.

“Then, nothing did?”

“I didn’t say that. I was curious why you came here.”

She shared a glance with Cameron and took a deep breath. “It’s just — I didn’t notice it at first, but I was sparring with Shiro, like we usually do. And somehow, he threw me through a wall — and he couldn’t do that before. So I thought that was weird, and tried a few things myself, and—”

“She found she was stronger. And not just them, but all of us.” Cameron finished for her.

I blinked. That was not what I’d been expecting. “Did you all level up without realizing?”

Cameron shook his head. “Nope. There’s nothing new in our Statuses, either. So I figured it must have been something you did.”

By now, Etin had seen enough of the two to understand that they weren’t here to hurt him and was slowly approaching the Heroes, like a puppy wanting to get a whiff of a bigger dog.

“That’s—” Cameron said with alarm once he noticed Etin, “that’s like Winnie! Did you…?”

I nodded. “Sarah, Cameron, meet Etin. He’s not a Wight anymore, but a person.” I turned to the skeleton in question. “Etin, these are Sarah and Cameron. They’re also part of our little family.”

“Cam,” the boy said. “My name’s Cam. Julian’s the only one who calls me Cameron.”

I tilted my head. “I didn’t realize you disliked being called that.”

“I don’t, I just like Cam better. But nevermind that,” he said as he extended his hand towards Etin, who shook it gingerly.

“Whoa,” Sarah said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hey, Etin, I’m Sarah! I’m, like, the cool older sister.”

Etin turned to her and inclined his head, offering his hand like Cam had done. Sarah shook it vigorously, the bones in his hand clicking together.

After a moment, I sensed Etin send a communication, and Sarah’s eyes went wide.

“Okay, that’s incredible. How does he do that?”

“It’s just his way of communicating,” I said. “He can’t form words properly, yet, but he can send his intention — but he’s learning.”

Winnie lumbered from his corner and prodded Sarah in the side.

She frowned at him. “Don’t be jealous, silly. I still love you. But you have a brother, now! Isn’t that exciting?”

As the four became engaged in this novel kind of family drama, I shifted my focus to the reason Sarah and Cam had come here in the first place. I hadn’t done anything to empower them, at least not intentionally, but I had a suspicion.

With a thought, I brought up my status.

Name

Julian Crane

Level

42

Class

Archmagus of Life and Death

Species

Lich (Human)

Status

Health

100/100

Stamina

∞

Willpower

100/100

Attributes

Strength

1

Dexterity

1

Intelligence

36

Constitution

1

Endurance

1

Will

1

Unassigned

7

Skills

Soul Magic

30

Mind Magic

36

Force Magic

35

Matter Magic

25

Fate Magic

32

Dimension Magic

23

Multi-disciplinarity

17

Legacy of the Creator

1

Perks

Arcane Savant

Paragon of Humanity

That I’d gained 7 levels from Etin’s awakening wasn’t exactly surprising, and neither were the big gains in Mind and Fate. But my eyes zeroed in on that new skill at the bottom of the list, and now I believed I had the culprit for the Heroes’ sudden empowerment.

Legacy of the Creator — You give them your all, and so will they

Class Skill — Passive — Level 40

Your creations gain a fraction of your might. Effect scales with skill level.

The ominous subtitle aside, the skill seemed powerful. The description was vague, but from Sarah’s account, even at level 1, the boost in power looked to be significant. And, like Shiro’s Struggle, it was a passive skill, which meant it would level on its own, in time.

I cleared my throat, interrupting the custody battle as I shared the skill window with Sarah and Cam. Winnie and Etin looked in confusion — they had no System access, so to them the three of us were fussing over empty space, Perhaps I could add them to the System? I filed the idea for later.

“That’s broken,” Sarah finally said. “And I’m not sure how I feel about being considered a creation.”

I nodded. “It does seem to apply the meaning quite liberally. For what it’s worth, I don’t consider you bound to me in any way. You’re free to leave, if that’s what you wish.”

Her eyebrows rose. “What, you wouldn’t miss me?”

“Of course I would. But every bird eventually leaves the nest.”

“You’re not my dad,” she said with a snort. “Wait, is that from the book?”

“Mother Sulli’s Guide on Raising Teenagers? Why yes, it is.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Why do you always have to be so melodramatic? I’m not leaving.”

I secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

“Would you two mind showing Etin around? I’m sure he’d like to meet the rest of the others as well.” Etin piped up when I mentioned the others. “And take Winnie with you as well, yes? Since it’s clear he’s no longer a mere Wight, it seems cruel to confine him here.”

Sarah grinned. “You’re the best.”