The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe

Chapter 418: FATHER’S DAY SPECIAL 1: A Kid with Closed Eyes

It was yet another beautiful morning in the kingdom of Verdant Spire: a place that had become synonymous with lush greenery, towering trees, and the constant hum of life that filled every corner of its vast expanse.

The bird-like monsters were flying and singing around, their melodic calls echoing through the canopy like a natural symphony that had been playing for centuries.

A soft breeze fluttered through the trees and greenery, rustling leaves and carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers and fresh earth.

Responsibilities were going on as usual throughout the village, with Amazons tending to their daily routines—training, hunting, crafting, and all the other tasks that kept their society functioning smoothly.

But we look into one peculiar treehouse, nestled high in the branches of one of the oldest and grandest trees in Verdant Spire.

It was a structure that stood out even among the impressive and modern architecture of the Amazon land, its design speaking to a level of craftsmanship and care that was not always present in the more utilitarian dwellings of the warriors below.

It had a great living room with couches that looked plush and comfortable, their fabrics rich and inviting, arranged in a configuration that encouraged conversation and relaxation.

Priceless decorations were everywhere; weaves hanging from the walls, intricate carvings adorning the wooden beams, small statues and ornaments that seemed to have been collected from distant lands and different eras.

The ground was made of something seeming like a high quality vine weave, the strands carefully braided and treated to create a surface that was both beautiful and durable, soft underfoot yet strong enough to withstand the passage of countless footsteps.

The entire space had the unmistakable tint of luxury and regality.

It was not just the crude opulence of someone trying to show off their wealth... but rather the crude opulence of someone trying to show off their wealth, however, with the refined elegance of someone who had grown up surrounded by beauty and had come to expect it as a natural part of life.

Every item in the room had been chosen with care, every detail attended to with the kind of attention that spoke to a deep appreciation for aesthetics.

After all, it was the room of...

"Tzadok-sama... what are you reading?" Asked a pale, short girl in a short peach kimono that reached just above her legs, the fabric soft and flowing, its color reminiscent of the flesh of a ripe fruit.

The garment was simple but elegant, tied with a sash that matched its hue, and it swayed gently as she moved.

She had short ocean-blue wool-like hair that looked impossibly soft, as if it had been spun from threads of the sea itself.

Her hair framed her face in a way that made her features appear even more delicate and doll-like.

Her left eye was a striking blue with a golden serpent icon inside—the rare Eye of Purity, a gift that marked her as something special among her kind.

And her right eye was a vivid red with a golden five-pointed star upside down—the equally rare Eye of Darkness, mostly seen on not even demons but devils, creatures of the deepest and most ancient pits.

She had two bunny ears sticking off her head, their insides a soft pink that contrasted with the blue of the fur, and they twitched occasionally as if responding to sounds that others could not hear.

A puffy tail behind her completed the picture, fluffy and white like a cotton ball attached to her lower back.

She was standing beside the one she called Tzadok, her posture professional and orderly, her hands clasped neatly in front of her like a servant waiting for orders.

He sat on a chair like a king reading a big book, its pages yellowed with age and filled with dense text that seemed to shimmer slightly in the morning light.

"Not your business, Kynos..." Tzadok replied calmly, his voice carrying a serene authority that seemed out of place for someone his age.

His eyes were closed while he read the book, apparently—his lids shut completely, yet his fingers continued to turn the pages with confident precision, as if he could see every word perfectly despite not looking at them.

He was as young as Kynos, both of them 12 years old, their faces still carrying the softness of childhood even as they bore the weight of responsibilities that would have been heavy for adults.

He had short bright red hair that seemed to catch the light and glow, brown skin that looked warm and healthy, and a handsome face that promised he would grow into a strikingly attractive young man.

He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt under a brown, armless jacket that had no buttons.

For his lower half, he wore black long pants that were practical and comfortable, and a dark pair of shoes that looked well-made and durable.

Tzadok flipped a page and continued reading, somewhere deep in focus.

His expression was serene, almost meditative, as if he had entered a state of complete absorption in the text before him.

Kynos simply continued standing still beside him, like a faithful maid, while he read what seemed to be a grimoire with literal closed eyes.

Her mismatched eyes remained fixed on his face, watching for any sign that he might need something from her.

"Whatcha doing, little brother?" A new voice entered the scene, coming from an opened window that faced the duo.

The voice was cheerful and casual, carrying the easy confidence of someone who felt completely at home in any space they entered.

"I have warned you several times, Ash," Tzadok said, still continuing to flip the pages without looking at the visitor.

His voice carried the patient exasperation of someone who had repeated the same instruction many times before. "Always use the door. Normal people use doors."

"Then again, none of the children of father are normal, so I can get away with it," the new person smiled and flashed their fangs; a brief glimpse of sharp teeth that hinted at something more than human.

They sat more comfortably on the window sill, their legs dangling over the edge, completely unconcerned with the height or the potential fall behind.