In the Underworld, just outside the Phoenix Estate’s medical room, Regulus Phoenix sat anxiously with his eleven-year-old son, Riser Phoenix. Several elders of the Phoenix clan were present, along with other family members and relatives who had gathered for a special occasion: Regulus’s wife, Rhea Phoenix, was about to give birth to their third son.
Regulus was both nervous and excited, a familiar feeling from the births of his other sons. Riser fidgeted beside him. “How long is this going to take?”
“Riser, be patient. This is an important day for the Phoenix household. Your little brother and your mother are doing their best,” Regulus replied gently.
“But can’t they be quick about it? I have important things to do,” Riser complained.
Regulus sighed at his son’s attitude. Riser’s arrogance had only grown, nurtured by the elders’ stories and expectations—the seeds of a budding superiority complex.
A new voice called out, “Father, I came as quickly as I could.”
Regulus turned to see his eldest son, Ruval Phoenix—the golden child, a prodigy of the Phoenix household—arrive.
“Ruval, I’m glad you made it.”
Ruval nodded. “I apologize. I was busy preparing for the upcoming Rating Game tournament.”
Regulus assured him it wasn’t a problem; after all, Ruval had his duties as the eldest son. Ruval joined the waiting group.
Suddenly, a scream echoed from inside the medical room. Regulus jumped to his feet and rushed to the door, fear gripping him. He burst into the room, calling his wife’s name, and froze at the scene before him.
“Father, that’s…,” Ruval murmured, following him in.
Two nurses lay on the ground, trembling in fear. The doctor, barely standing, stammered about black flames and the dangers of getting close.
Regulus’s gaze fell on his wife, Rhea, exhausted and breathing heavily with her eyes closed. He approached the bed and saw his newborn son, nearly forgotten at the edge. Regulus’s eyes widened: the baby had black hair and dark pupils—so different from the Phoenix clan’s usual blond hair and blue or green eyes.
He approached slowly, reaching toward the infant. The moment his hand touched the baby’s skin, small black flames emerged—not the bright, warm flames of Phoenix blood, but dark, ominous ones that radiated cold. The flames reached for Regulus’s hand, and as they touched him, he winced in pain and jerked back. Few things could hurt a Phoenix, but these flames seemed to consume his mana itself, even threatening his legendary regenerative abilities.
Regulus stared at his hand, deeply troubled. How could this have happened? This day was meant to be joyous, yet he was filled with uncertainty and fear.
At the door, Riser, Ruval, and the elders gathered, watching in silence. Ruval’s face was thoughtful, clearly considering the implications. Riser, usually loud, was uncharacteristically serious.
One of the clan’s elders stepped forward. “A curse. Or a bad omen,” he muttered. “Whatever happened today will stain the Phoenix clan’s reputation. We cannot ignore this event. Lord Regulus, you must deal with the boy at once.”
Regulus stiffened. Deal with the boy… A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. As head of the household, he bore the clan’s image and reputation, but he could not bring himself to harm his newborn son.
Ruval caught his father’s eye and shook his head, signaling him not to do it. Regulus glanced at the baby, then slumped his shoulders and declared he would not get rid of the infant.
The elder warned, “This will be a disaster for our reputation if other clans learn of a cursed or abnormal Phoenix. If you insist on taking responsibility, so be it. But if the boy becomes a threat in the future, we will hold you accountable.”
Regulus nodded silently. The elder left, and Riser, dissatisfied, clicked his tongue and followed.
Regulus looked almost defeated as he sat down, head in hand. How could things have come to this? This was supposed to be a celebration.
Ruval approached. When asked for his thoughts, Ruval answered, “Politically, this is a disaster. Rival clans will mock our reputation. Pragmatically, this newborn could become either a great asset or a tremendous threat to the underworld. But as family, I’m glad he’s safe. You made the right choice.”
Ruval excused himself, returning to his duties.
Now, only Regulus, Rhea, and the infant remained. The baby began to cry—a normal reaction, Regulus realized. Rhea stirred, opening her eyes.
“My baby… Where is my baby? Give him to me.”
Regulus hesitated, remembering the black flames. Rhea, undeterred, reached for her child. Regulus warned her, but Rhea wouldn’t listen. She wrapped her arms around the baby; the black flames ignited, causing her to wince but she refused to let go.
“Shhh, it’s alright. Mom is here…” she whispered, smiling tiredly at her son. Slowly, the baby calmed.
“He’s wonderful. My baby boy.”
Regulus sat beside her. “Dear, even you must realize… he’s different. His hair. Those flames.”
Rhea’s face fell. She had noticed, but seemed unwilling to acknowledge it. When she asked what the elders had said, Regulus explained—leaving out the part about disposing of the child.
“I don’t care what anyone says or thinks. He is our child, Regulus. Our son. Our baby boy.”
Regulus looked sad, recognizing how complicated this would become. The elders would likely ignore or ostracize the child. His own actions would be closely watched. But could he take the boy away? He couldn’t bring himself to do it. Accept the child? The clan would react harshly. For now, all he could do was accept this reality and see where it would lead.
He looked at his wife, who was focused on the infant. “He… he’s going to need a name.”
Rhea glanced at her husband, then at the baby. After a moment, she whispered, “Raza… His name will be Raza. Let the elders call him a curse. To me, he is Raza. He is my hope.”