Among the greatest pains a person can experience, the most intense is said to be burns, followed by the pain of amputation.

The third spot varies depending on who you ask, but childbirth is often prioritized, while other rankings differ based on statistics.

However, the pain of a man getting hit in the testicles is undoubtedly within the top ten. If limited to men, it would easily rank in the top three.

Even though the testicles are externally exposed, they are still organs. The pain of a direct hit to an organ is indescribable.

Sometimes, you’ll see someone who seems fine after such a hit. These people aren’t trained to endure it—they’re just used to the pain.

In any case, for an average person, a proper blow to the area would incapacitate them for over five minutes. In severe cases, they might end up as the subject of a notorious meme.

If even a flick of a finger brings unbearable pain, what happens when a more significant impact occurs?

It’s not just pain; stars would spin in front of your eyes. Worse, this agony doesn’t hit all at once but creeps in gradually.

In other words, hoping to faint is wishful thinking. You have to endure the waves of pain as they crawl in.

"Are you... okay now?"

"..."

I couldn’t even respond to Arwen’s worried question. At the moment, I couldn’t even scream.

Cold sweat poured down my face, and saliva dripped from my open mouth to the ground.

I clutched my stomach with both arms, trying to alleviate the pain, but it was a losing battle.

To put it metaphorically, it felt like someone had stabbed my stomach with a knife and was twisting it back and forth.

"Daddy?"

The child’s innocent, sweet voice echoed clearly in my ears. The very culprit responsible for my current suffering.

I processed this thought quickly and barely managed to lift my head. The pain was still unbearable, but I wanted to see their face.

As I raised my head, two pairs of eyes met mine: one a soft silver-gray and the other a shining gold.

Arwen’s silver-gray eyes were filled with deep concern, while the child’s golden eyes sparkled with curiosity.

It was clear the child had no idea they had done anything wrong. Understandable, given the circumstances.

I wanted to smile for their sake, but the pain was too overwhelming, so I lowered my head again.

Forget making it to the bed; I could barely manage to sit upright. I’d have to stay like this, clutching my stomach, for a while longer.

"Haah..."

After about five minutes, the pain began to subside slightly, and I let out a long exhale.

Thankfully, the impact zone wasn’t as concentrated as a baseball strike. If it had been, I might never have fathered children again.

I wiped away the sweat that had drenched me like rain and raised my head.

Both Arwen and the child were staring at me. Forcing a smile, I tried to appear fine.

"I... think I’m okay now."

"Are you sure? Should I call a healer or a priest?"

"No, I’m really fine."

If something had ruptured, I would’ve called a healer immediately. But after checking, I confirmed my precious assets were intact.

Besides, I had just spoken with Luminous earlier. Surely, the gods would have warned me if there was anything serious.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead again and looked at the child.

Despite being so young, they seemed to realize they had done something wrong, wearing an apologetic expression.

Even the sprout on their head drooped like a withered leaf. It seemed to function like an elf’s ears, reflecting emotions.

"Hey, little one."

"Mm."

"Next time you run, do it slowly. And don’t jump at people like you did to me, okay?"

"Mm?"

The child tilted their head in confusion, blinking their golden eyes. Their reaction made me chuckle helplessly.

I realized they were far too young to understand much of anything yet.

I resolved to explain it all later and steadied myself, putting strength into my legs to stand.

My stomach still throbbed as if I’d been stabbed, but it was bearable.

"Alright, up you go."

"Mm?"

I picked up the child, adjusting my hold so they could lean comfortably against my arms.

They gazed at me with wide, curious golden eyes, blinking slowly.

How could something be this adorable? Their wings were charming enough, but the sprout on their head was especially endearing.

"What should I name you?"

Beyond dealing with the situation, the most pressing matter was choosing a name. I couldn’t just keep calling them "child."

As if reading my thoughts, the child blinked twice and shouted brightly.

"Name?"

"Yes, a name. We’re going to give you one."

"Name!"

They clearly didn’t understand the meaning of the word but were enthusiastic nonetheless. Smiling at their cuteness, I turned to Arwen.

"Do you have any good suggestions?"

"Well..."

Arwen hesitated, fidgeting nervously. At first, I wondered if she was embarrassed to suggest something too old-fashioned.

"Baby?"

"Huh?"

The child’s curious voice broke in. Both Arwen and I turned to look at them simultaneously.

The sprout on their head was now standing upright, and their eyes sparkled as they stared at Arwen.

Then, sucking their thumb thoughtfully, they spoke again with deliberate pronunciation.

"Isaac."

"That’s my name..."

"Name! Baby! Name?"

"...What?"

The child’s telepathy must have picked up on Arwen’s thoughts. These words weren’t random—they were pulled directly from her mind.

Piecing together the words, I realized what had happened.

"The name of the baby born between Isaac and Arwen...?"

It seemed Arwen had already chosen a name for our child in her mind.

Even though it had only been a week since our first night together, she had been thinking about names for our future child. It was so very like her.

"...Oh."

Her face turned bright red as her thoughts were laid bare.

I smiled faintly, watching her blush like the evening sky. She must’ve been incredibly embarrassed.

That embarrassment soon turned into action. Looking as though she might cry, she threw herself onto the bed, burying her face in a pillow.

This was her go-to reaction whenever she felt utterly humiliated.

"El... El... Elisha! Elisha!"

"Wait, isn’t that the name of the elf queen from Zenon’s Biography?"

I turned toward the bed, where Arwen was squirming like a freshly caught fish, her legs kicking furiously.

Her innermost thoughts had been exposed entirely. No wonder she wanted to crawl into a hole.

I gently scolded the child. "No more reading people’s thoughts, okay?"

Then I approached Arwen to calm her down.

"Arwen."

"Ugh..."

"We’ll name the child something fitting for someone born between us. Don’t worry about it. Let’s just pick a name first."

Even Mary hadn’t thought about naming a future child yet. If she found out about this, Arwen’s execution would be swift.

At my words, Arwen slowly calmed down, stopping her flailing.

She turned to face me and the child, her ears still bright red.

"...Don’t tell anyone."

"If I do, I’ll die."

"Daddy die?"

"Not yet."

But probably soon.

I swallowed those words and placed the child back on the bed. At least they were behaving well now.

Thank goodness they weren’t the rambunctious type of child who would cause chaos everywhere. If they were, it would’ve been a nightmare.

"Let’s see... what name would suit you best?"

I gazed at the child, deep in thought, while Arwen cautiously sat up.

The child alternated their gaze between the two of us, their translucent wings fluttering slightly, and their sprout standing tall.

Given their unique appearance, finding the perfect name wasn’t easy. This wasn’t like Zenon’s Biography, where I could name characters as I pleased. This needed careful thought.

"It’s a girl, so it should be a feminine name..."

Just as I was pondering this, the child stood up and waddled over to me on their tiny legs.

"Daddy."

They climbed into my arms, nestling snugly.

"Hehe."

As I hugged them, they smiled radiantly, rubbing their face against my chest.

I couldn’t help but smile back and gently stroke their head. They were so lovely it was almost overwhelming.

I would raise this child with all the love in the world, just as the gods had urged me to.

"Ariel," I murmured.

"Huh?"

"I think Ariel suits you best."

In legends, Ariel wasn’t one of the seven archangels but was still a powerful angel often associated with nature.

For a child born from the seed of the World Tree, it seemed like the perfect name.

I looked into the child’s shining golden eyes and said again, "Your name is Ariel. Got it?"

"Ariel?"

"Yes, Ariel."

"Ariel!"

The child beamed and shouted the name joyfully.

And then, with a flash, their translucent wings began to glow. I watched, wide-eyed, as the light faded, revealing a transformation.

The once faint and transparent wings had grown more defined and radiant. It seemed the act of naming had solidified their identity.

The sprout on their head remained unchanged, but I figured it might grow as they did.

As I stroked Ariel’s head, now looking even more angelic, I decided that nothing else mattered.

Mary might be upset, but I’d deal with that. This child was a gift from Hirt, and even Mary would have to accept that.

"Ariel."

"Mm?"

"Daddy’s name is Isaac. Isaac."

"Isa... sack?"

"Yes, Isaac."

"Daddy!"

"Close enough. Just call me Daddy."

I chuckled and turned Ariel toward Arwen.

"And that elf over there is Arwen. Do you know who that is?"

"Mama!"

"Good. Call her whatever’s comfortable for you."

"Mm..."

Ariel stared at Arwen intently, the sprout on their head tilting slightly toward her. It looked like they were reading her thoughts again.

"...Threatened?"

"What?"

"Threatened. What do I do?"

"...Oh no."

It seemed Ariel had picked up something best left unsaid.