*** Read with an open mind, and don't take it too seriously . It's just a story after all. ***

Edward's PoV

It was another ordinary day. The sun hung low behind passing clouds, casting long, golden beams over the dusty hills. Rather than flying, I rode on a black mare, silent and sturdy, her hooves clacking against the stone-laced path as we passed by small farms and huts. I preferred it this way. Closer to the ground. Closer to the people.

The road ahead buzzed with movement. families on foot, donkeys burdened with cloth sacks and baskets, children clinging to their mothers' skirts. Some were humming prayers. Others looked weary, but determined. It seemed some sort of gathering or event was taking place, judging by the growing number of travelers all heading in the same direction.

Curious, I slowed my horse and approached a man traveling with his family—his wife and two sons. He wore a modest linen tunic, dusty from the road, and carried a woven bag over his shoulder. I raised a hand in greeting. "Greetings, friend," I called out. "What's the rush for? Is there something happening?"

The man looked over and smiled warmly, despite the exhaustion evident on his face. "Greetings," he replied, catching his breath. "We are just heading to register my family, as per the order of King Herod."

"King Herod…" I repeated under my breath.

I thanked him and nudged my horse to continue down the path. But something tugged at me from inside, a warning buried deep in my memory. Then it clicked.

'Wait a minute… this story… King Herod…' My thoughts began to spiral. 'This is pointing toward a direction I should steer clear of. I don't want to make a mess of everything.'

But another voice, colder and more logical, challenged that hesitation. 'If I know something bad will happen, if I know many innocent children will die—can I really just look away?'

I sighed, tightening the reins as I watched the people ahead. They walked with such innocence, unaware of the shadow looming behind Herod's decree. I couldn't ignore it. I didn't know what I would do just yet, but I needed to see for myself. To bear witness, at the very least.

The next city wasn't far, nestled in a small valley between two hills. As we approached the gates, the road widened, and the crowds thickened. Vendors shouted over each other, trying to sell fruit, bread, and trinkets to the growing throng of visitors. Every inn and guesthouse appeared full. Children ran through alleyways while goats weaved between carts.

I rode slowly, trying to absorb as much as I could. Conversations buzzed around me—men discussing registration lists, mothers calming infants, rumors about taxes, Herod, Roman soldiers.

Then, as I reached the edge of a stone courtyard near the city gate, a voice called out, urgent and anxious.

"Hello, kind sir! Please, can you help me?"

A man in his early thirties rushed toward me, desperation etched into his sun-worn face. He was breathing heavily, his hand extended toward me. His clothes were modest, and his eyes darted behind him as if searching for someone.

I turned toward him and offered a steady smile. "Sure, stranger. What do you need?"

His shoulders relaxed slightly at my response. "My wife and I came here to register, but her labor pains have just started. We have no place to go. The inns are full, and everyone is too busy with the king's command. I've been asking for help, but no one will spare the time. Could you please allow us to stay in your home?"

I didn't hesitate. "That's no problem. Although I don't have a home here, I can shelter you and your wife. But, do you have anyone with you to assist with the childbirth? I might not be the best person for that."

He grasped my hand gratefully, shaking it with both of his. "Thank you, kind sir. We can manage the rest. It's already more than enough that you've offered your help when no one else would."

I nodded, trying to keep my thoughts clear. "People should help one another. I was just in the right place to do it."

We began walking together toward the city's edge, where there were fewer people and more privacy. Along the way, we exchanged words : he told me about his hometown, his carpentry work, how his wife's pregnancy had been smooth until today. He seemed like a simple, kind man. But something about him gnawed at me, a strange familiarity I couldn't place.

Out of mild curiosity, or perhaps a gut feeling, I asked cautiously, "Sorry, friend… what did you say your and your wife's names were?"

The man smiled again, without suspicion. "My name is Joseph, and my wife's name is Mary. We came here for the family registration."

My steps faltered for a heartbeat.

No Freaking Way!

I kept walking, trying to hide the shock settling into my bones. My voice barely steady, I asked, "Uh… this city… is it called Bethlehem, by any chance?"

Joseph nodded cheerfully. "Yes, sir Edward. We are in Bethlehem."

I managed to stay calm outwardly, but inside?

'Holy fucken Christ! I'm about to meet baby Jesus! What do I do?!'

I wasn't some devout priest or theologian in my past life. I had studied many religions, yes, but always with a critical mind. Still, even I knew this story. Everyone did.

The birth of Jesus Christ. The manger. The star. The shepherds and wise men. Entire religions formed and warred over this single event. And now I stood in the middle of it. Not knowing how my actions could change things.

We arrived at a small open space behind a stable, where a donkey cart sat under the shade of a thatched awning. Lying on a blanket inside was a young woman. She was no older than twenty, her robes loose around her swollen belly. She clutched her stomach, her face pale but determined.

When she saw Joseph approaching, her expression softened with relief. "Joseph!" she cried, voice strained. "You found someone?"

Joseph hurried to her side, kneeling beside the cart and gripping her hand. "Mary! I found this kind man to help us. His name is Edward."

Mary looked up at me, smiling despite the pain in her eyes. "Thank you, sir Edward."

I nodded respectfully. "It's not a problem. I was nearby and able to help."

I shook off the other thoughts and focused on the situation before me. Whatever this was, however strange, however divine, it didn't change the immediate truth: they were two humans in need of help. Whatever role fate had dealt them, it was not my place to abandon them.

I stepped closer to Mary, who was sitting weakly in the back of the donkey cart, breathing heavily, sweat glistening across her brow as she cradled her large belly. She looked up at me with a mixture of pain and courage.

I slowly sat beside her and spoke in a calm, firm voice, "No need to thank me. Anyone else would do the same in my position. But we need to move you from here. This open, dirty place, it's not suited for childbirth."

Joseph glanced around nervously. The outskirts of Bethlehem were crowded and messy, filled with makeshift shelters, animals, and people shuffling about. No space was truly clean or private. His face tightened as he realized the truth of my words.

I turned my eyes back to Mary. "I want you to not be surprised by what you're about to see," I added quietly, speaking more seriously now.

They both looked at me, eyes filled with uncertainty, but not suspicion. My presence and my aura eased their fear. That was the spirit of Adam at work within me. Even without words, it made humans instinctively trust and feel at ease in my presence.

With a subtle gesture, I raised my hand and cast a healing spel, to ease the pain. A soft golden light passed from my fingertips, surrounding Mary in a gentle glow that only the most sensitive could perceive.

Joseph's eyes widened in disbelief. "Is that... magic?" he asked, his voice filled with awe and hesitation.

Mary's expression relaxed as the pain visibly lessened from her face. Her hands loosened slightly, her breathing steadied. "Thank you," she whispered, closing her eyes for a brief moment of peace. "I feel the pain almost gone. Whoever you are... you've helped us without asking for anything."

I offered her a small smile and nodded. "Now that you can move, we should take you somewhere cleaner, more secure. I..." I hesitated only briefly, "I think my wife can help with the labor. If you can wait just a few moments, I can go and bring her here."

Mary nodded gently, forcing a smile through her exhaustion. "We can hold on a little more. But please hurry." She lowered her hand to her belly and caressed it softly, instinctively protective.

I stood up and raised my hand to my mouth, whispering into the enchanted ring on my finger, "Hera, are you there?"

A moment of silence passed before the ring buzzed faintly with a familiar, mature voice. "Husband! You called! Are you coming home? Where are you now?"

I interrupted before she could continue her usual string of questions and doting affection. "Hera, I need your help. There's a couple here. The wife is about to give birth. I'm coming to get you and bring you here. Can you assist them?"

There was a brief pause, then a soft chuckle. "Of course, husband. I am the goddess of marriage, women, and childbirth, after all. If you're asking, I'll help them."

Without wasting another second, I activated the teleportation array I had embedded in Themiscyra's palace. A rush of golden light engulfed me, and with a whoosh, I appeared in the grand marble chamber of our private quarters. Hera was already waiting, dressed in a flowing silver gown, her hair pinned elegantly.

As soon as I materialized, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me. "It's good to see you, beloved," she said, her voice warm, but she quickly stepped back with purpose. "But I believe you're in a hurry. We can talk after I help them."

I nodded with a smile. It seems she has grown a lot from the first time we met. She has become kinder and more compassionate. A stark contrast to her previous self.

Without delay, I took her hand, and in a flash of golden magic, we returned to the outskirts of Bethlehem.

Mary and Joseph's expressions were frozen in stunned disbelief. Their mouths hung open as they watched me vanish and reappear beside them, now accompanied by Hera. Their eyes flicked to her, wide with wonder. Even without saying a word, it was clear they could sense something divine, something not of this world.

Yet, neither asked any questions.

Hera stepped forward with gentle confidence, her voice soft but commanding. "Be at ease, child," she said to Mary. "My husband brought me here to assist you."

She turned to me with a more serious tone. "Dear, we should move her to a better location."

I nodded. "On it." With a snap of my fingers, a golden ripple opened in the air. The Gate of Babylon shimmered to life, and from within it, Vimana, floated forward, silent and majestic. The craft descended smoothly to the ground, its polished surface gleaming even in the dusty air.

Joseph took a step back, overwhelmed. "What is this...?"

I looked him in the eye. "Carry her to the ship. It will be far better than giving birth here."

He froze for a second, then scrambled to help Mary off the cart. With effort and care, he lifted her into his arms and carefully carried her up into the vessel's cabin, where Hera was already preparing the small interior chamber I had designed for solitude and comfort.

Once the ship was airborne, drifting softly just above the earth, I remained outside with Joseph. He turned to me, his face marked with wonder and confusion. "Who are you, sir Edward? You are definitely no ordinary human... Are you also one of the angels that visited us?"

I shook my head, a small wry smile tugging at my lips. "I'm just another human. Built a little different, that's all. All you need to know is—you asked for help, and I answered. That's enough."

Joseph looked towards the cabin and asked slowly, " I don't wish to pry, but your wife....."

I replied calmly, " She isn't human, if that's what you are asking. But don't worry, we are here to help. We don't seek anything from you and your wife."

Joseph took a long breath, then bowed deeply. "Thank you for your help. Me and my wife will be forever grateful to you and your wife. You helped us when nobody else would."

I stepped forward and gently pulled him up . "There's no need. I didn't do much. Your child... He is special. He would have survived even without my help."

Joseph asked curiously, " what do you mean by that ?"

I looked away and replied, " you will find out soon."

We stood there in silence for a while, watching the quiet motion of the ship as it drifted slightly, anchored in the air. The night was still, and the distant hum of the city felt muffled, as though time had slowed in reverence.

Then, from within the cabin, the sound of a newborn's first cry echoed through the air. Sharp, clear, and unmistakable.

Joseph's head shot up. He bolted toward the entrance, only to be stopped by Hera's stern voice inside: "Wash your hands before you hold him."

There was a flurry of water being poured, and then I stepped closer, peering in.

Mary lay on a soft makeshift bed, her face glowing with a mixture of relief and overwhelming love. In her arms, she held the tiny, swaddled child, her gaze fixed on him as if nothing else in the world mattered.

Joseph, now clean, approached slowly. Mary smiled and handed him the infant. He took the baby with shaking hands, eyes wide and misty, overwhelmed by the weight of the moment.

I remained at the threshold, watching quietly. Hera moved beside me and leaned in, her voice low and thoughtful.

"That baby," she said, "isn't ordinary, husband. What is going on here?"

I didn't respond immediately. My eyes stayed on the small child in Joseph's arms.

After a long pause, I whispered, "That, my dear... is a child blessed and cursed by the Divine."

****

The Egyptian sun bathed the small home in warm light, casting long golden shadows across the clay walls. I sat on the edge of a woven mat just outside the doorway, arms crossed behind my head, soaking in the late morning warmth.

Life had slowed in these past years. The journies I made, the whole burden, it almost felt like a distant memory. I was brought out of my musings by a childish voice.

"Uncle Edward!" a voice rang out, high-pitched and full of energy. "Stop sleeping in the middle of the day! Seriously, you are so lazy."

I cracked one eye open, turning toward the voice. There he was , little Yeshua — barefoot, dusty, and utterly relentless. His cheeks were slightly flushed from running about in the sun, and his brown curls bounced as he darted past clay jars and wooden stools. The little whirlwind of life.

"And you," I said, voice dry, "have far too much energy for one child. How many times have I told you it's rude to disturb a sleeping man?"

Yeshua huffed and crossed his arms with theatrical annoyance. "You said you'd take me fishing today. I even helped Mother with her chores early for it. Get your lazy ass up!"

My eyes snapped fully open. "Language, young man! You're not old enough to talk like that."

He grinned, mischievous. "You say it all the time."

"Yes, and I'm old enough to know when not to say it." I pushed myself up to sit, brushing sand from my clothes. "Why is it that you only remember the things I don't try to teach you? I spent hours trying to help you with math the other day , and you struggled with basic addition!"

Yeshua scratched the back of his head sheepishly, a habit he had picked up from me over the years. "Learning makes my head hurt. That's a different thing."

I sighed heavily, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at my lips. These past six years had been strange , far removed from the life I once led , but undeniably peaceful. Human. And in a way I never expected, it was comforting.

Flashback

It all began shortly after Yeshua was born aboard the Vimana. We descended near a quiet village, far from the cities and noise. I helped Joseph and Mary settle in a modest home. But peace never lasted for long.

Three oddly dressed men arrived one day, travelers from distant lands. They claimed they had followed a star across deserts and mountains to find this child , the one born to be king of the Jews. They approached reverently, presenting gifts, their eyes filled with awe and trembling hope.

I looked at them skeptically. "Did you visit King Herod before coming here?"

They hesitated, then nodded.

I felt my jaw clench. Turning to Joseph and Mary, I spoke plainly. "You must leave this place. Herod will come for your child. He fears him."

Joseph paled. Mary held Yeshua tightly. It took some convincing, but eventually, they agreed. I guided them south, to Egypt, a land I was far too familiar with, and promised they could return once Herod was dead. Can't mess up a cannon event I guess.

Still, a part of me burned with rage. I wanted to end that tyrant's life myself. But I couldn't interfere more than necessary. The timeline was fragile, and some events had to unfold naturally.

Even so, I paid a visit to Herod, not as Edward the wanderer, but in my full heroic form. The man had the audacity to smile as he welcomed me, before frowning when I gave my demand.

"You will rescind your order," I said coldly, "to find and kill the newborns of Bethlehem. Or you will find me out of mercy."

He scoffed, then signaled his guards to attack.

It ended in blood. His guards never stood a chance.

Herod collapsed to his knees as I stood above him, sword dripping crimson. "Every fiber of my being wants to end you," I told him. "But I won't. Not today. I give you one last chance. Rule your people with wisdom. End your madness."

He sobbed and groveled. "Yes, great hero. I will repent. I swear it."

I walked away without looking back.

Flashback end

After settling Joseph and Mary in Egypt, I had intended to leave. But Yeshua... that tiny bundle of light latched onto me with a grip stronger than steel. He cried if I left his sight, reached for me even in sleep.

So, I stayed. Through the winding roads and quiet villages, I was the one who carried him most of the journey, as Mary and Joseph looked on with tired but grateful smiles.

Now, more than six years had passed.

Somehow, I had become Uncle Edward.

A man with a blood-soaked past, revered and feared in equal measure, now co-parenting the child who would one day change the world. Life had a strange sense of irony.

"Why are you just standing there, Uncle Edward?" Yeshua snapped me out of my thoughts, waving impatiently. "Come on! We have to catch fish for Mother to cook!"

I chuckled and shook my head. "Hold on, kiddo. I have to get the fishing net."

I stepped back into the house and returned moments later with the rolled net slung over my shoulder. Yeshua skipped happily beside me as we made our way toward the banks of the Nile.

"Do you think we'll catch a big fish today?" he asked eagerly, eyes gleaming with hope.

I ruffled his hair. "If you keep chattering like that, we won't catch anything."

He pouted, then leaned in conspiratorially. "You're no fun sometimes. I heard Father say that men get grumpy when they're away from their wives. You should go visit your wife. Mother said your wife is very kind and beautiful, she helped her when I was born."

A vein twitched on my forehead. "You little brat! Why do you only learn bad things! I should toss you into the river and use you as bait."

He giggled, clearly unfazed by my threats. "You know you won't. You love me too much."

He batted his lashes innocently, and I clenched my teeth. The boy had mastered manipulation far too young.

"Enough out of you," I said, stepping into the boat and tossing the net inside.

Yeshua clambered in beside me, still smiling. "Why do you always act like you don't enjoy my company?"

"Because I don't enjoy being pestered all day," I said as I pushed the boat away from the bank.

He leaned back, arms behind his head, mimicking my earlier posture. "Then why do you always say yes when I ask to go fishing?"

I glanced at him , too clever for his own good. I didn't answer. Instead, I focused on casting the net into the water.

But he wasn't done.

"The other kids in the village are boring," he said matter-of-factly. "They don't know anything interesting. They can't tell stories like you. And you don't do anything all day anyway."

I sighed again, though it came with a hint of a smile. "That's because I've done more than enough for ten lifetimes."

He tilted his head. "So… does that mean you're tired of the world?"

I looked at him, startled. For all his antics, sometimes Yeshua's questions cut straight to the bone. "Maybe," I admitted quietly. "But people like me don't get to rest. Not really."

We sat in silence for a while, the sound of the water gently lapping against the wooden hull, the warm sun overhead, the net swaying beneath the current.

Yeshua finally broke the silence, voice soft now. "Well… if you ever get tired of carrying everything, I'll carry some of it for you one day. I promise."

My hands paused on the oar. I looked at him again, but he was staring into the water, his expression unreadable.

I didn't say anything.

I just reached out, and placed a hand gently on his head. " I hope that day never comes little one."

****

Fishing was always simple for me. Not because I was particularly skilled with nets or had some ancient technique passed down through generations.

No, it was because of the skill I bore — Nature's Beloved: A-Rank. Animals, birds, fish... they trusted me, drew near to me without fear, and obeyed my calls like I was part of their world.

Even if I never fully grew used to it, they came willingly, seeing it as an honor to be caught — to be consumed. The logic of nature could be strange. But I never liked relying on this skill for things like this. It felt like cheating. Yet, when fishing for a child's joy, perhaps such pride could be set aside.

The haul was modest, as always. Enough fish for a meal, no more. I could've filled ten baskets if I wanted, but restraint had become second nature to me.

As we made our way back to the village, little Yeshua was sprawled across my back, sound asleep. His arms drooped over my shoulders, his warm breath brushing against my neck. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the peace of his slumber.

Each step I took stirred a bitter ache in my heart. Because I knew what future awaited this innocent boy. No matter how joyful his laughter was now, no matter how carefree his smile, that future loomed over him like a dark cloud.

He wasn't just Yeshua. He would become Jesus. It had already been decreed. The presence , the one who watched and measured all ,had sent his heralds. Angels, radiant and silent, had come to deliver their message, and it was clear. Yeshua would take upon himself a name and a burden far greater than any child should carry. He would call himself the Son of God. And the world would never be the same.

But at what cost?

My thoughts churned with silent fury. Not toward the boy. Never toward him. But at the cruel machine of fate that sought to use him. I had seen too much to believe in blind faith anymore. I had seen gods fall, watched civilizations rise and rot, and I knew the truth of men.

They would praise him. They would follow him. But they would also betray him. They would kill in his name, wage wars for his image, spill oceans of blood waving his teachings like weapons. They would take his kindness and turn it into dogma. That disgusted me.

But I said nothing. I just walked, feeling his small heartbeat against my back.

That evening, we shared a quiet supper at Joseph and Mary's house. The room was small, but warm , clay walls glowing faintly in the firelight, simple wooden bowls filled with grilled fish and barley bread.

Mary was humming softly as she cleaned, her face serene despite the weight of raising a child so special. Joseph sat across from me, quiet, thoughtful. The kind of man who didn't speak unless he had something worth saying.

Yeshua was his usual self, chatting non-stop about random things that put a smile on our face. Mary took him to put to bed, but before leaving, he ran up to me and hugged me." Thank you uncle Edward. I had fun today as always. " I just smiled and hugged him back.

Later, after the meal, Joseph and I stepped outside. The night was calm, the stars scattered across the heavens like scattered dust. The faint breeze carried the scent of baked earth and trees.

"I've got news, my friend," Joseph said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, solemn. "From Judea. King Herod is dead."

I turned slightly, meeting his eyes. There was both relief and hesitation in his expression.

"We can return there," he continued. "Back to our home. It's safe now. And... thank you. For taking care of us all these years. I know we've troubled you a lot."

I nodded slowly. " It was nothing. Since you have decided to go back, Then safe travels to you, Joseph. I hope you, Mary, and little Yeshua can live happily."

He looked torn. His gaze lingered on me longer than necessary, the silence between us heavy.

"Are you certain you won't return with us?" he asked gently. "Yeshua loves you very much. He would miss you dearly. As would we."

I exhaled slowly and looked up at the stars. "I should be on my way. If I go there... some things might go beyond my control. It might not be the best idea."

Before he could respond, a sudden gust of wind swept across the earth, and with it came a distinct sound , the rhythmic beating of wings.

Then he descended.

A tall figure, regal and solemn, stood before us. His skin was dark as onyx, his presence calm and commanding. From his back stretched wings of shimmering silver, catching the moonlight with quiet grace. There was no fear in Joseph's face, only awe.

The man spoke, his tone respectful, but resolute.

"Listen to him, noble Joseph," he said. "It is not his destiny to follow you there."

Then his eyes turned toward me, firm and knowing.

"Edward Elric," he said, with a faint smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Amenadiel, an angel of the Lord. We angels, admire your resolve. But today I come on official business. My Father has decreed... He wishes to speak to you."

I let out a tired sigh, brushing the back of my neck with one hand. "Well, it's about damn time. I've been looking forward to some answers."

I turned to Joseph, resting a hand on his shoulder. He looked completely overwhelmed, eyes wide, his mouth barely forming words.

"Farewell, Joseph, my friend." I said softly. "Tell Yeshua... to be happy. Tell him to play with the other kids more. Tell him to be kind, but not to those who abuse it."

Joseph's lips parted, but he didn't speak.

I continued, my voice low, deliberate. "Humans are like a piece of wood. They can be carved into beautiful shapes. But a carpenter... must also toss away the rotten ones. For they're beyond saving. Tell him... to be careful when choosing his companions. And that he must not be sad when I'm gone."

Joseph bowed his head, his eyes glistening with quiet understanding.

I turned to Amenadiel. "Let's go then. Let us see what fate has in store for me this time."

And without another word, I followed the angel into the stars, towards the silver city, hoping to get some answers.