I Was The Only Omega In The Beast World Chapter 167: CP : 167 Babies are feeling the stones?

The walk to the ridge took twice as long as it usually did.

Not because the path had changed, but because Alex’s body had decided that every step required negotiation. His lower back ached with a dull, persistent throb that pulsed in ti with his footsteps. His breasts, tender and heavy beneath his shirt, protested every jostle. And the nausea—the ever-present nausea that had beco his constant companion since the heat—rose and fell in waves, triggered by nothing and everything.

Naga walked beside him, one coil looped loosely around Alex’s waist, not restraining but supporting. The serpent lord’s scales were cool against the heat radiating from Alex’s skin, and Alex found himself leaning into the contact more than he wanted to admit.

"Stop counting your steps," Naga said quietly.

"I’m not—"

"You’re breathing in a rhythm. Counting. One-two-three-four. One-two-three-four. Like you’re trying to asure the distance by how many tis you don’t throw up."

Alex’s jaw tightened. "I’m fine."

"You’re pale. Your hands are shaking. And you’ve been pressing your palm against your lower back for the last hundred ters like you’re trying to push the ache out through sheer will."

Alex stopped. Partly because Naga was right, and partly because another wave of nausea had crested, making the world tilt slightly. He closed his eyes, breathed through his nose, focused on the small, fluttering heartbeats in his belly. Three, he thought. Maybe four. Definitely more than two.

"They’re restless today," he said, opening his eyes. "The little ones. I can feel them moving and shifting. Like they’re trying to get comfortable."

Naga’s tongue flickered out, tasting the air near Alex’s abdon. "They’re growing. The scents are stronger now. Different from the snakelings—more varied. Definitely cubs."

Alex pressed a hand to the swell. It was more noticeable today than it had been yesterday—a firm curve beneath his palm that hadn’t been there a week ago. His shirt, already loose, pulled slightly across his middle.

"They’re growing fast, System would have had theories," he said. "And probably a spreadsheet."

The absence of System pressed against Alex’s chest like a bruise. He’d stopped reaching for it—stopped expecting the familiar hum of information at the edge of his awareness—but the silence still felt wrong. Like a room where soone had been speaking and had suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

"Let’s keep moving," Alex said. "The sooner we get to the ridge, the sooner I can sit down."

---

The ridge was quieter than usual.

Sally had already set up her observation post—a flat rock with a cushion she’d brought from the sanctuary, surrounded by snacks and water and the notebook she’d been using to docunt everything. The snakelings were arranged around her in various states of attention: Jade alert and watchful, River calm and still, Ripple pressed against Sally’s side with his tail wrapped around her wrist, Sterling and Onyx engaged in a quiet ga that involved stones and rules Alex didn’t understand, and Siddy—

Siddy was on the ridge.

Above the ridge.

Climbing sothing that Alex couldn’t see but could definitely hear.

"SIDDY, GET DOWN HERE—"

"I’M FINE, MAMA. THERE’S A LEDGE. IT’S VERY STABLE. I’M BEING SAFE."

"Siddy—"

"I BROUGHT A ROPE."

"You’re FOUR—"

"FOUR AND A HALF."

Alex’s hand pressed against his lower back as another ache rolled through him. The nausea, which had been hovering at the edges since he woke, surged briefly at the spike of adrenaline. He breathed through it, counting the heartbeats in his belly like an anchor.

One-two-three. One-two-three. One-two-three.

Leo landed beside him with a soft rush of wings. "He’s fine. I checked the ledge myself. It’s solid. And he did bring a rope."

"That’s not—the rope makes it WORSE, Leo, because that ans he PLANNED this—"

"He’s your child."

"He’s ALL OF OUR CHILDREN. That’s the problem. He has too many parents who think climbing is a reasonable activity for a four-year-old."

Leo’s golden eyes flickered with sothing that might have been amusent. "He’s four and a half."

"THAT’S NOT BETTER."

The nausea crested again, and Alex had to stop, one hand braced on a rock, the other pressed to his belly. The small lives inside him fluttered—not alard, but aware. Responding to his body’s signals in ways that were still new, still strange.

"Alex." Leo was beside him instantly, one wing curving around his back. "Sit down. You’re green."

"I’m not—"

"You’re green. Your lips are pale. And your hands are shaking." Leo’s voice was firm, the voice he used when there was no room for negotiation. "Sit. Drink water. Let the nausea pass."

Alex wanted to argue. He’d co here to try with the stones, to see if being closer to the valley would wake them, to do sothing other than sit in the sanctuary feeling sorry for himself while the shadow waited and System was silent.

But his body had other plans.

He sank onto the nearest rock, his hand still pressed to his belly, and let Leo’s wing wrap around him. The warmth was good—steady, grounding. The small heartbeats inside him settled, responding to the contact.

"The stones," he said. "I need to—"

"I’ll bring them to you." Leo was already moving, his wings spreading as he glided toward the valley floor. "Stay there. Don’t move. Don’t climb anything. Don’t—"

"I’m not going to climb anything. I can barely stand."

"Good. Stay that way."

The stones were still cold.

Leo returned with the pouch—the sa worn pouch Alex had carried for a year, the one that had held all seven artifacts through dragon territories and serpent caves and wolf lords and lion lords. The stones inside were dull, silent, unresponsive.

But Alex held them anyway.

One by one, he took them from the pouch and laid them on the flat rock before him. Earth. Fire. Water. Air. Spirit. Light. Shadow. The seven elents that had guided him through a world that should have killed him.

Seven cold, dead rocks.

He pressed his palm to the earth stone first, the one that had led him to Granite’s cave. Nothing. No warmth, no hum, no sense of the ancient presence that had always lived beneath his fingers.

He tried the fire stone. The water stone. Each one in turn, each one giving him nothing.

But his belly ward.

It was subtle at first—the small, fluttering heartbeats inside him quickening, the heat that radiated from his womb spreading outward like ripples in still water. Alex pressed his other hand to the swell, feeling the response.

"You feel them," he said softly. "The stones. You feel sothing."

The heartbeats fluttered again, answering.

"Alex." Lucas had appeared at his side, silent as wolves always were. His pale eyes were fixed on Alex’s face, reading sothing Alex hadn’t ant to show. "What’s happening?"

"The babies," Alex said. "They’re responding to the stones. Not waking them—I don’t think—but feeling them. Sothing’s happening."