"Food," he repeated. "I am hungry."
His father slowly sat up in bed. "…Did he just—"
"He even talks?!" his mother shrieked, scrambling backward against the headboard.
The boy tilted his head slightly. "Yes," he answered plainly. "That is how communication works."
His father pointed at him with a shaking finger. "Y-You're one month old!"
The child stared. "And?"
"And?!" his mother gasped. "You're not supposed to stand! You're not supposed to talk! Babies cry! His voice is not even like a baby"
He blinked once. "I did cry. It was inefficient."
His father grabbed the blanket like it was a weapon. "This is a dream. I'm dreaming. I inhaled too much incense last night."
The boy took two steady steps toward them. Perfect balance, no hesitation. "I require nourishment," he said calmly. "Your panic is unnecessary."
His mother clutched her chest. "He's judging us."
"I am not judging," he replied. "I am observing."
His father whispered, "Why does he sound disappointed?"
The boy crossed his small arms. "You have delayed my meal for approximately two minutes and twelve seconds."
"Two minutes?!" his mother yelped. "You can count too?!"
"Yes." The room fell silent again, he was intelligent too. The boy's white, pupil-less eyes didn't blink, no smile, no childish wonder. Just stillness, void-like calm.
His father slowly got out of bed. "Son… can you at least… laugh?" The boy stared at him.
"Why?"
His mother nearly fainted. "He asked why."
"I am hungry," the child repeated flatly, his voice like that of a teenager.
"…Right," his father muttered weakly. "Food. Yes. Food is normal. Babies eat."
His mother shakily stood up. "I'll—I'll get milk." As she hurried out of the room, she whispered under her breath, "We gave birth to a demon."
"I heard that," the boy said.
She screamed from the hallway, 'His powers are incredible.' she thought. His father slowly knelt in front of him. "Son… can you tell me something?"
"Yes."
"…Why are you standing?"
The boy looked down at his own feet. "It is more efficient than crawling."
His father covered his face with both hands. "We are not telling anyone," he muttered. "No priests. No neighbors. No relatives."
The boy's head tilted again, the Aries mark on his forehead.
"Why?"
"Because," his father said weakly, "if anyone sees this, they might think you're unnatural."
The child stared at him with those endless white eyes. "I am."
His father froze. "…What?"
The boy's expression did not change. "I am not like the others."
There was no pride in his voice. His mother returned with shaking hands, holding a bottle. He took it calmly and drank. Without breaking eye contact.
His father swallowed. "Elena…"
"Yes?"
"…I think our son is going to change the world." The child lowered the bottle.
"Unlikely," he said flatly. "I simply wish to eat." And he continued drinking.
He was only five. But he already looked ten. One night, he sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the wall.
"You must kill the Seven Zodiac Sins born from you." He clenched his small fists. "…Born from me?" he whispered.
A memory flickered. "You will be reborn." He pressed his hand to his chest. "I'm too powerful, other kids fear me, who am I, the zodiac sign on my forehead isn't even real, I can't go out to play, so other children wouldn't figure out my Powers."
The next morning during training, "Again," his father said, raising his guard. Damon nodded and stepped forward. He threw a punch. BOOM.
His father flew backward and crashed into the fence. "Dad!" Damon vanished and appeared behind him mid-air, catching him before he hit the ground.
His father stared. "…You teleported."
He blinked. "I didn't mean to."
"You moved without running."
"…Oh, it's just natural, I'll just have to learn how to control it in no time."
His father slowly stood up, holding his stomach. "You're five."
Damon tilted his head. "Its not my fault I was born like this?" saying this he left him there.
His father Enzo sighed deeply.
Later that week—
"DAMN IT!" Damon shouted when his training sword snapped. The house shook violently, his eyes glowing white violently, he was so angry. Windows shattered instantly.
His mother screamed. "Stop! Stop!" The floor cracked. Dust fell from the ceiling.
Damon froze, the shaking stopped. He looked at his hands. "…I didn't try to do that."
His father grabbed his shoulders. "Listen to me. You must control yourself."
"I am."
"No," his father said quietly. "You're holding back. That's different and control your emotions, it's the source of your powers."
That night, his parents whispered in their room. "This isn't normal," his mother said.
"I know." Enzo replied.
"He removed the door last week." Elena said.
"We replaced it with iron, and he bent the hinges." Enzo then stared at his wife wen she asked him the question.
"…What is he?" she asked.
"He has no zodiac, which isn't normal, white pupil-less eyes, white hair....I think we might have given birth to a powerful being and if he can't control his powers, we need to eventually seal it, he can't live with that, he needs to know how to grow up on his own even without his God-like powers." Enzo explained.
------
They woke up one morning, his bed was empty. "Damon?" his mother called.
No answer. They searched the house, the yard, the road. "Where is he?!" she shouted.
Meanwhile, in the forest, a massive bear roared. A wolf stood in front of its small cub, growling weakly. The bear raised its claws.
Damon stepped forward. "Stop." The bear ignored him.
It lunged. Damon caught its paw mid-air. The ground cracked beneath his feet. He bent the bear hand and the bear roared in pain. Damon's white eyes stared into it.
"You're stronger," he said calmly. "But she's protecting something." The wolf growled at him too.
"I'm not your enemy," he told it, the wolf kept quiet like it understood what he said. The bear struggled.
Damon tightened his grip slightly. Bones snapped. The bear whimpered.
"Leave." He threw it aside like it weighed nothing. The wolf got more angry and lunged forward, before he could raise its hand, Damon without touching or do anything thought something in his head and the bear burst into millions of pieces, it's bodies turning to ashes.
The forest became silent. The wolf stared at him cautiously, he stared back.
"…Why do I feel like I've done this before?" The air behind him flickered faintly.
Seven faint shapes. Gone in a second, he frowned.
Before he could touch the mother wolf head, his father stretched forth his arm and the wolf died. Before he could kill the little cub, Damon cuts off his magic and the man realizes it was him disrupting his magic and he said.
"What are you doing here, those are demon wolves."
"What can a cub do to someone like me!" Damon thundered at his father, as his father stared at his seven year old son.