Seven years passed after Aerin was born.

The Origin Empire flourished, but for Adrian, those seven years brought something unexpected.

Aerin.

The child grew up surrounded by the strongest beings in the galaxy, her childhood unfolding in an environment unlike any other. She learned to walk within the Origin Construct’s training halls, took her first steps across spatial rifts before she could properly speak, and absorbed mana-infused meals prepared by Selena and Elara as casually as breathing.

Her talent became apparent early.

Too early.

By age three, Aerin could sense spatial fluctuations. By four, she manipulated them instinctively, blinking short distances when startled or excited. By five, she had mastered the planetary version of the space concept without formal instruction.

At six, she reached basic galactic comprehension and formed her first Essence Seed.

Adrian had watched it all unfold, equal parts fascinated and concerned. The miniature Source Seed he’d unknowingly transferred still resided within her, dormant but present. He checked regularly, though he never spoke of it to anyone.

So far, it remained inert. Aerin’s natural space affinity developed independently, unaffected by the hidden seed.

But her comprehension speed was absurd.

Even by galactic standards, where prodigies reached SSS-rank in decades, Aerin’s growth defied logic. She absorbed concepts faster than Adrian could explain them, grasped formations after a single glance, and wielded space essence with precision that took others centuries to achieve.

Her mischievousness, unfortunately, developed just as quickly.

One afternoon, Aurelia prepared sweets for the gathering planned later that day.

Adrian had promised to attend, along with most of the core members. Elara and Selena were bringing dishes, Kaelith mentioned trying a Duskbane recipe, and even Lysandra planned to visit from Lexaria.

The sweets Aurelia made were not ordinary treats. Each one contained carefully balanced mana and essence, meant to nourish rather than simply satisfy hunger. She’d spent hours crafting them, infusing ice and space essence into delicate pastries that shimmered faintly under the light.

After arranging everything neatly on the kitchen counter, Aurelia stepped into a nearby room to retrieve decorative plates she’d stored earlier.

She returned less than a minute later.

But the sight before her made her eyes flare with anger, “Not again!”

Aerin stood beside the counter, cheeks bulging, crumbs scattered across her face and hands. Nearly half the sweets had vanished, devoured with alarming efficiency.

The girl looked up, spotted her mother, and froze.

For a single heartbeat, guilt flickered across her expression.

Then it vanished, replaced by a cheeky grin.

Aerin stuck out her tongue, scrunched her nose, and made an exaggerated teasing face, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Aerin!” Aurelia’s voice carried the weight of a thousand previous incidents.

Before she could say another word, space rippled, and Aerin vanished.

“Don’t think you can escape today!” Aurelia blinked away instantly, already knowing exactly where her daughter would run.

…

In another room, Sentinel felt the spatial fluctuations and immediately understood what was happening.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

He paused mid-step, his hand hovering over the book he’d been reaching for, and sighed inwardly.

By now, this was nothing new.

From a very young age, Aerin had been mischievous beyond measure. Whenever she caused trouble, she claimed she wanted to “feel the kick” of doing something exciting, as if chaos itself provided some vital nourishment.

And her talent only made things worse.

Her comprehension speed allowed her to grasp formations, spatial anchors, and essence manipulation faster than anyone could teach her proper restraint. She learned how to bypass security runes before she understood why they existed.

Sentinel remembered one particular incident vividly.

Aerin had wanted to see other places in the galaxy. At six years old, already effectively SSS-rank and capable of surviving in open space without a ship, she’d begged relentlessly until Sentinel and Aurelia agreed to take her on an excursion.

They’d travelled to Lexaria, where Lysandra herself had accompanied them, proudly showcasing her empire’s beauty. The journey should have been peaceful, leisurely, a chance for Aerin to experience the galaxy’s wonders safely.

At some point during the flight, without anyone noticing, Aerin had tampered with the spatial formation propelling the ship.

She’d been curious, she explained later. Wanted to see what would happen if she “adjusted” one of the runes.

The vessel had accelerated wildly. Gravity destabilized. The ship spun violently, sending furniture crashing and passengers stumbling.

Only by deploying their domains had they stopped the situation before it turned disastrous.

When Aurelia scolded Aerin afterward, the girl had blinked away instantly.

She’d reappeared screaming across the ship’s halls, “Uncle Adrian! Help meeeeee!”

Adrian, completely charmed by the little girl, had immediately shielded her, wrapping her in his arms and glaring at Aurelia as if she were the unreasonable one.

“She was just curious,” Adrian had said, his tone defensive, “She didn’t mean any harm.”

“If the ship crashed on any nearby planet, many would have died!”

“But it didn’t.”

Incidents like these happened regularly.

Whenever Aerin caused trouble, she escaped screaming for Adrian’s help, and Adrian inevitably took her side, utterly incapable of refusing her anything.

Now, Sentinel sighed as he felt the ongoing chase ripple through the mansion’s spatial anchors.

He had no intention of getting involved.

Experience had taught him one thing very clearly: this was a losing battle.

If he scolded Aerin, Aurelia would scold him for being too harsh, claiming he didn’t understand how children learned. If he didn’t scold her, Aurelia would still scold him for being too soft, enabling behaviour that would only escalate.

There was no winning. So Sentinel chose wisdom.

He acted as if he sensed nothing, as if nothing had happened, and as if he knew nothing.

He returned his attention to the book, deliberately ignoring the spatial fluctuations growing stronger as Aurelia closed in.

And once again, he left Adrian to deal with the calamity.

…

Aerin reappeared in Adrian’s study, materializing directly beside his desk with a spatial ripple that disturbed the neat stacks of reports Varik had delivered earlier.

“Uncle Adrian!”

She crashed into his side, clinging to his arm with both hands, her face pressed against his shoulder.

Adrian looked up from the formation diagram he’d been reviewing, blinking in mild confusion, “Aerin?”

“Save me!” she wailed dramatically, peeking up at him with wide, pleading eyes, “Mom’s being mean again!”

“Mean how?”

“She yelled at me for no reason!”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, “For no reason?”

“Well…” Aerin hesitated, then grinned sheepishly, “Maybe I ate some sweets.”

“Some?”

“…Most of them.”

Before Adrian could respond, space tore open violently, and Aurelia stepped through, her expression thunderous.

“Aerin!”

The girl squeaked and buried her face deeper against Adrian’s arm.

Aurelia’s gaze shifted to Adrian, and her voice turned sharp, “Don’t you dare shield her this time.”

Adrian met her eyes calmly; he did not argue immediately. He exhaled slowly, choosing his words with care.

“She’s seven,” he said, attempting to defend Aerin.

“She is SSS-rank and perfectly capable of understanding consequences,” Aurelia shot back.

“I know,” Adrian replied, “and you’re right. But she is still seven.”

Aurelia’s jaw tightened, “Adrian—”

“What did she actually do?” Adrian asked, his tone mild. “Eat sweets? That’s hardly—”

“She ate sweets meant for twenty people!”

“I understand why you’re upset.”

“And yet you’re standing in my way!”

“No,” Adrian said quickly, “I’m standing with you. I just don’t think fear is the lesson she needs right now.”

“And what does she need?” Aurelia demanded.

He hesitated, then rested a hand lightly on Aerin’s head, “Guidance and maybe fewer unsupervised sweets.”

Aerin peeked out from behind Adrian’s arm, sticking her tongue out at her mother.

Adrian froze.

Aurelia’s eye twitched.

“Enough,” Aurelia said coldly, “Since you wish to intervene, you may take responsibility.”

Adrian blinked, “Responsibility for…?”

“You will explain to Selena and Elara why there are no sweets for tonight’s gathering,” she said without missing a beat.

Adrian inhaled sharply.

“That,” Aurelia continued, “will be your lesson.”

Before he could protest, she turned and stepped back into space, vanishing in a blink as though she had never been there.

Aerin slowly lifted her head and looked up at Adrian, her eyes shining with pure triumph, “Thanks, Uncle!”

Adrian closed his eyes, already feeling the weight of what awaited him.

“…You are absolutely grounded,” he muttered, fully aware that it meant nothing.

And once again, he realized he had been completely outplayed.

By a seven-year-old.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep