In the deepest chamber of the royal wing, where the tapestries whispered gossip and the portraits pretended not to judge, the King and Queen sat in heavy silence.

  Queen Elenwynn’s eyes were shadowed, not with makeup, but with the weight of what had transpired in the conference hall.

  “They called our son a ‘walking omen with baby cheeks,’ Vaelric. They called our child... a harbinger.”

  King Vaelric didn’t flinch. He stood near the balcony, arms crossed, cloak billowing from pure dramatic instinct. “They’re cowards. If one more noble implies he should be exiled again, I’ll exile their entire family tree.”

  The Queen turned to him. “It’s not just the nobles. The other children... our children... they barely speak to him. Edmarion refused to share the war goat. Veliryn wrote him a haiku that just said ‘Doom walks in diapers.’”

  “I read that one,” the King muttered. “Haunting.”

  “And Halvren said he’d ‘audit the apocalypse.’ What does that even mean?”

  The King looked over his shoulder. “It means our middle son needs friends.”

  Queen Elenwynn sighed and sat beside him. “He’s only a baby. And yet he’s hated. Misunderstood. Alone. I know he’s special—we know he is—but everything’s going wrong.”

  King Vaelric dropped to one knee beside her, his voice lower, gentler. “He has us. He always will. And when the time comes, he’ll show the world what he truly is. Not a curse... but our greatest legacy.”

  Her hand found his. “Do you think he’ll forgive us? For banishing him publicly? For letting the world fear him?”

  “If he’s anything like you... he’ll understand. If he’s anything like me... he’ll punch me in the shin, and we’ll call it even.”

  That earned a quiet laugh. And then silence.

  A warm, charged kind of silence.

  Their fingers laced. Her head fell against his shoulder.

  And suddenly—

  “Ahhh yes, the royal romance returns!”

  Narrator Voice: This is my favorite part! Someone put on some mood music—maybe violins made of love !

  Their lips met. A loving, slow, “no-one-is-watching-but-I-hope-someone-is” kind of kiss.

  Narrator: Ohohoho! Look at them go! I give this scene a ten out of ten! Five stars! Two children conceived!

  Scene shift.

  Narrator: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO—”

  Meanwhile, in a room filled with toy soldiers, teacups, and one disturbingly lifelike cabbage doll…

  I sat on a soft rug, surrounded by my toddler arsenal of plastic doom.

  “Why don’t they have cars here?” I wondered, stacking blocks like a pensive architect.

  “Wouldn’t it be nice,” I thought aloud, holding up my trusty metal horse toy, “if this was, like, a tiny Mustang or something?”

  Poof.

  In my hand, the horse shimmered. Metal groaned. Joints shifted. And right before my very eyes…

  It turned into a miniature sports car.

  “...What the fu—”

  My brain short-circuited.

  Headache. Instant. Brutal.

  Like someone was squeezing my skull while yelling math at me.

  “AaaAAAHHH—!”

  Everything turned white. Cold. Empty.

  I woke up in... the room.

  White. Endless. Vaguely glowing. Smelled faintly of vanilla and cosmic taxes.

  But something was different.

  No Fat God. No overflowing buffets. No threats of divine paperwork.

  Instead, in the center of the void, standing like she was waiting for her magazine cover shoot to be painted by angels themselves—

  Was her.

  She didn’t walk. She glided forward in a pair of glossy stiletto heels that shouldn’t logically work in this no-floor environment. Her wings? Cascading, radiant, feathery chaos—like someone dipped a thunderstorm in glitter. Her golden hair floated around her like she was underwater. Lips as red as sin. Curves as illegal as her dress.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  And her voice?

  Like warm honey poured over forbidden chocolate cake.

  “Well hellooo there, little prince,” she said, smiling with enough wattage to reboot a continent. “I’m your Skill Angel. But before you get too excited—no skills for you today.”

  I blinked. “Then why summon me? Just to kill me with your hotness? Or is this some kind of heart-angel-attack?!”

  She chuckled. Slowly. Like a rich villainess in a spa commercial.

  “Oh, sweet boy,” she said, stepping closer, her heels now clicking for pure drama. “Your soul already holds too much power. If I tried giving you anything else, you’d... burst.”

  Then she leaned down, face inches from mine.

  “Unless,” she whispered, voice dripping sin, “that’s the kind of explosion you’re into~”

  I flailed so hard I fell backwards.

  “NOPE! I’M GOOD! THANK YOU, MA’AM! YOU’RE VERY PRETTY BUT I AM STILL IN DIAPERS!”

  She laughed. Like bells forged in temptation. “Adorable.”

  “I’m respectfully terrified!”

  Her hand brushed a lock of hair behind her ear as she purred, “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything… unless you beg.” She winked. WINKED. I had never before felt both honored and endangered.

  Somewhere deep inside me, my infant hormones wept in confusion.

  I cleared my throat. Which is impressive because I didn’t know I could.

  “But… what do you mean I have powers? I never got any! Unless drooling counts!”

  She tilted her head, blinking innocently. “You mean to tell me... you haven’t even peeked at the skills I snuck into your soul like a divine little birthday present?”

  Snap.

  A shimmering scroll popped into the air, glowing like an expensive app you’d regret buying.

  [SKILL LOG]

  ?? Parallel Knowledge (∞) – Instantly know everything from both Earth and Arth. Call your “Knowledge Book” to access facts, trivia, recipes, cursed history—whatever. It knows.

  ? Infinite Magic (∞) – Cast any magic you can imagine. No mana. No limit. Just raw imagination. Basically magic fanfiction with cheat codes.

  ??? Item Creation (∞) – Can create anything. Only limit: your imagination and materials. Want a plasma cannon from a soup can? Go wild.

  My jaw dropped. “WHAT?!”

  She shrugged. “You’re a walking glitch. Try not to implode.”

  “But… how do I use them?!”

  She strolled around me like a cat circling a confused goldfish.

  “For Item Creation, touch something. Visualize what you want. Get intimate with the image.”

  “For Magic, same thing. Close your eyes, picture it, cast it. It’s like finger painting but with reality.”

  “For Knowledge, just call out, ‘Knowledge Book!’ It’ll come running like a loyal puppy with an encyclopedia in its mouth.”

  I nodded. Then paused.

  “Wait... wait... ‘intimate’ with the image?! Lady, I’m one!”

  “Oh, don’t be modest. You imagined a car earlier so well, you transformed a toy horse into a Mustang. Very impressive.”

  She leaned in again. “Almost as if you wanted to impress me...”

  I tried to smirk coolly. Instead, I drooled on my sleeve and said, “I’m very mature for my age.”

  Narrator: This is the greatest seduction attempt I’ve ever seen. Baby Casanova strikes again. Ten outta ten.

  The angel giggled softly, brushing golden strands from her face. “Oh my… what a little charmer.”

  “Wait—I didn’t mean it like that! That wasn’t me, I mean it was me, but—”

  Narrator: Say it. Tell her she’s the only woman you’d let bless your diapers.

  “I—I would let you bless my diapers.”

  She blinked.

  “…Excuse me?”

  My entire soul shut down. “NO. I didn’t mean—I wasn’t—I don’t even wear diapers I SWEAR.”

  Narrator: Tell her you want to be her divine footstool. Use the word ‘willingly.’

  “I want to be your divine footstool. Willingly.”

  The angel’s eyes widened.

  “…Oh.”

  She took a step back.

  “Oh no.”

  Narrator: Now’s your chance. Ask if she wants to see your toy collection—code for emotions.

  “You wanna see my toy collection?”

  “…I’m calling security.”

  Narrator: Whisper something cryptic. Like, ‘You smell like moonlight and forbidden ethics.’

  “You smell like moonlight and forbidden ethics.”

  The angel stared.

  Then she raised her hand.

  “I think we’re done here.”

  “WAIT NO I’M JUST A BABY—!”

  Narrator: Well. You were a baby. Now you’re a legend.

  The room burst into white. Divine pressure slammed my body like a reverse birth canal made of holy glitter.

  I blacked out.

  When I opened my eyes again, I was in my crib. Soaked in sweat. Holding that cursed car toy. Mouth dry. Chest heaving like I’d just survived divine heartbreak and an anime fight at the same time.

  My fingers still tingled.

  And somewhere, faintly…

  Narrator: Worth it. Ten outta ten. Would embarrass him again.