He walked without pause, following the path between the rose bushes toward the pavilion.

Sunlight fell on his shoulders, casting a warm glow on his ordinary face.

Eleanor didn’t run over like an ordinary child.

She simply stood still, her small face tilted upward to watch her approaching father as a clear smile bloomed in her dark eyes.

The smile was gentle and bright, as if she had long foreseen this moment’s arrival.

When Murphy finally set foot on the pavilion’s stone steps, Eleanor stepped forward. She reached out her small hand and gently took her father’s fingers, which were hanging at his side.

"Father," she said, her voice as soft as a feather. "You’re here." 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Murphy looked down at her, a hint of softness passing through his deep, dark eyes.

He gently squeezed her small hand in his and nodded.

"Yes, I’m here."

Eleanor tilted her small face up, her dark eyes reflecting the morning light, her voice calm. "Father, I heard you coming. Not with my ears, but... I heard it here."

She raised her small hand and gently tapped her chest, over her heart.

Murphy’s fingers paused slightly in her palm.

A flash of undisguised astonishment crossed his eyes.

He gazed at his daughter. The five-year-old’s face still had the characteristic roundness of a young child, yet her eyes held a clarity that belied her age.

"You ’heard’ me?" Murphy’s voice was a few degrees lower than usual. "When did it start? How did you ’hear’ it?"

Eleanor blinked, seeming to recall it seriously.

"Just now," she said softly. "When you were outside the garden... here," she tapped her chest again, "there was a gentle, warm fluctuation, like ripples on water. It was very familiar. It felt different from Mother, and different from Leia and the others. I knew it was you."

Murphy was silent for a moment.

He slowly crouched down, bringing his gaze level with his daughter’s.

"Eleanor," Murphy’s voice was very soft, "you may have a Wizard’s talent."

But Eleanor didn’t look confused.

She just looked at her father and then nodded gently.

"I know," her voice was still calm. "There are some books in Mother’s study... they mention it."

She turned her head and pointed to the *Selos Naturalist Association Monster Files* on the bench. "It says some people can sense things others can’t. I was just reading it."

A complex emotion flickered in Murphy’s eyes.

He, of course, knew about the tomes in Margaret’s study.

He hadn’t expected Eleanor to have already come across them.

But what stirred him even more was his daughter’s prematurely revealed talent.

The manifestation of a Wizard’s talent—what Murphy categorized as a Spirit Root—took time. This was due to a lack of sufficiently precise observational tools and systematic detection methods.

Typically, the first signs of talent would appear around age ten. As their Spiritual Power and Spirit Root naturally developed, they would begin to faintly perceive Spiritual Qi.

The talent wouldn’t fully mature until around age fifteen, at which point its complete attribute affinity and strength level would be revealed.

This was the natural law of life’s growth, a process of the soul gradually harmonizing with the physical body.

Even within the current Wizard Organization, cases of talent being clearly confirmed before the age of ten were rare.

And Eleanor was only five years old.

At five, she could already clearly perceive the approach of specific individuals and distinguish the differences in their spiritual fluctuations.

This was far more than just "having talent."

Murphy gazed into his daughter’s dark eyes, which seemed to hold a tranquil night sky within their depths.

Suddenly, the worry he’d had for the past few days—that Eleanor would be like Elizabeth, just another member of the Royal Family drifting along with the current—vanished without a trace.

In its place was a complex mix of surprise, relief, and responsibility.

He thought of Margaret.

The woman who had inherited the title of the Enchanting Witch.

Her bloodline, combined with his...

"Father?" Eleanor seemed to sense Murphy’s emotions. Her voice sounded softly, tinged with uncertainty. "Is... this a good thing?"

Murphy snapped out of his reverie.

He reached out and gently stroked his daughter’s soft, dark hair.

"It is a good thing, Eleanor." His voice returned to its usual composure. "It means you have a special talent, the ability to perceive a world that ordinary people cannot. But it also means... you will need to learn how to live with this gift."

Eleanor nodded seriously, a thoughtful expression on her small face.

"Like how Mother controls her power?" she asked. "I’ve watched Mother practice... sometimes the room suddenly becomes very quiet, and other times there are all sorts of complex, strange noises from far away."

The corners of Murphy’s mouth lifted in a very faint smile.

"Similar, but not exactly the same," he said. "Everyone’s talent is unique. Your mother is skilled at influencing the minds and wills of others; that is Illusion Technique. As for your talent... it currently seems to lean more toward perception and insight. It’s likely a form of premonition."

He paused, then added, "But this is just a preliminary judgment. Your true aptitude won’t be fully determined until you’re a little older."

Eleanor nodded thoughtfully. "What about you, Father? What’s your talent?"

Murphy thought for a moment and said, "My situation is rather special. I don’t have a distinct, singular inclination... you could probably call me a ’generalist.’"

"A generalist?" Eleanor blinked. "Doesn’t that make you even more powerful?"

"It means having to spend a very long time," Murphy explained gently, "exploring every possible Path, with no clear main route to rely on. It’s like walking through a vast wilderness with no signposts. Although you can go anywhere, finding the right direction requires more patience and trial and error."

"Then I’m willing to search with you, Father." Eleanor’s voice was soft, yet it held the unique sincerity and determination of a child.

A warmth spread through Murphy’s heart.

Eleanor suddenly remembered something and turned to look at Leia, who was standing to the side.

"Leia," she said softly, "are the refreshments ready? Father must be thirsty."

Leia quickly bowed. "Yes, Miss. The refreshments are ready. They are on the round table to the west."

Murphy stood up, his posture once again tall and straight.

He took Eleanor’s hand and walked toward the west side of the pavilion.

As they reached the obsidian round table, the fragrance of Snowflower Tea was already wafting through the air.

Murphy pulled out a chair for his daughter, watched as she carefully sat down and smoothed her skirt, and only then did he sit down opposite her.

Eleanor held the warm teacup in both hands, her dark eyes looking at her father through the swirling steam.

"Father," she asked softly, "will I... be able to be like you someday?"

"Like me?" Murphy raised his teacup, his gaze gentle.

"As powerful as you," Eleanor said seriously. "Mother says you’re the most powerful person she’s ever met."

Murphy looked at his daughter’s young and earnest face, an indescribable emotion swirling in his deep, dark eyes.

After a long moment, he gently set down his teacup. His voice was low and clear as he said, "You will be more powerful than me, Eleanor."

WHOOSH!

The morning breeze swept through the garden, carrying the faint clamor of festival preparations from afar.

But all these sounds seemed to be filtered through a thin veil. In the small corner where the father and daughter sat, there was only the lingering aroma of tea.