Just like that, time passed, and nighttime arrived.
After that lucky pervy moment, Luna gave an in-depth explanation of what magic and mana are, and how one gathers mana into their body—their circuit—to form magic circles that automatically help in ranking up.
And right now, Zeta could be seen inside the wooden toilet, unloading the last of dinner's siege.
Bup.
He burped loudly without a care in the world.
"System," he called out to his non-sentient companion in a low, hushed tone, afraid someone might hear him and label him crazy for speaking to absolutely no one.
[Ding. The system advises host not to call out the system in real life using your voice. You can just use your thoughts to call me.] The system popped up, dropped a critical piece of info he hadn't been told before, and dipped out.
Wow, thanks for sharing this information so late, he thought sarcastically.
He zipped up his pants and walked out of the toilet—making his way toward his room.
He still slept with his mom, as she had refused to move out even after he grew a bit—saying she couldn't sleep without hugging him.
"Zeta~" The moment he entered his room, his mother called out affectionately, instantly locking him into a tight hug that gave him little space to breathe.
Ugh... I... I appreciate her... her enthusiasm... ugh, but... I'll die... at this rate! he thought, his breathing ragged—not from fear or arousal, but from a sheer lack of air.
He was dragged face-first into her overbearingly large breasts, bombarded with affection and far too much softness for any sane person.
"I—can't—breathe," he gasped, tapping her shoulder like a dying fish.
"Oh..." Only then did she realize how tightly she had hugged him, before letting go.
Hah... I guess big boobs aren't really the best, he thought.
"Alright, Zeta. It's time to sleep," she said, her tone still carrying the same level of affection and warmth as before.
She had grown a lot over the past eight years. She'd moved past her guilt and self-shaming phase and come to embrace her overbearing love as a form of motherly affection.
And since then, she would sometimes—three to five times a week—masturbate beside her son once he was deeply asleep... sometimes even touching his skin to finish faster.
As both of them lay on the bed, Zeta called out to his system.
System!? He thought, and just then, an interface only he could see popped up right in front of him.
[Yes, host? Do you want me to show you your mother's love meter, arousal mete—]
Hell nah, she isn't my target for now... and I definitely don't need your help to determine what level of love she has for me.
I can see it in her eyes... well, it's practically written all over her face... and it's not hard to guess when she shows the kind of love a mother shouldn't show.
He wasn't disgusted. Nor was he complaining. What he saw was an opportunity—an opportunity to grow this relationship into an incestuous one.
He wouldn't have considered such a thing if he had been her real, blood-related son who had been birthed by Valerina. But since he technically wasn't, he felt justified in feeling... or trying... more than a son should.
Anyway, that topic aside. Show me my status... I'm kind of curious—this kid seems to be talented as fuck, he commanded.
From the way he could easily sense mana and use it to cast a spell—even if it failed—it still showed a level of talent most people would kill for.
[Status Screen]
[Name: Zeta Darkstone (Allen Iverson)]
[Age: 8 (25)]
[Magic Rank: Null]
[Magic Talent: ??? (Ps: Too high to measure)]
[Swordsmanship Rank: Null]
[Swordsmanship Talent: ??? (Warning: System cannot determine host's current ceiling.)]
[Innate Talent: Mimic]
[Blessings: Sword God's Blessing, Mage God's Blessing, War God's Blessing, ???]
[Status in This World: Hidden Villain]
[Inventory: Null]
He stared at his status screen, his lips twitching slightly.
Tch… guess I'm not in a vanilla fantasy, after all.
Previously, he thought this was a normal fantasy world... but now it was clear he wasn't in anything "normal"—this world had heroes, villains, the whole package.
Tsk... do I have to kill the hero of this world to survive? He asked his system.
[Ding. No, host. You don't have to kill the hero if you don't want to. As a hidden boss-level villain, you are advised to either eliminate the hero or stay away from him.]
Stay away? I ain't no goddamn coward. I'll train, use my talents to the fullest, and become such a threat that he won't have a choice but to stay away from ME, he thought.
As someone who lived his whole life fearing nothing, he couldn't accept the idea of hiding from some so-called hero.
That would mean breaking his own code—his confidence. And that wasn't something he was willing to sacrifice just to stay alive.
Shrugging off the "villain" label for now, he focused on his innate talent.
Explain my talent. Is it what I think it is? He asked, his heart beginning to race. The word Mimic alone had him excited—it had the potential to make him a literal god in this world.
[Mimic: You can copy any ability or spell you've witnessed. However, to perfectly utilize the skills you copy at their original level, the host must have a similar power level.]
Fuck yeah, mimic any skill I see? he thought.
Even if he couldn't use them at full strength, just being able to imitate spells at his current level was still a massive win.
Imagine fighting someone who can replicate whatever you do within seconds.
It'd be like fighting yourself.
***
The Next Day
The sun shine brightly through the sky, it's sun rays dripping down to the training field just behind the Darkstone residence.
Zeta stood in the centre of the field while holding a wodden sword. Wearing loose cotton trouser and a sleeveless tunic.
His expression was calm, it had an eerie matureness in it that a 8 years old typically don't have.
"Alright son," Harren grinned, "Today, I'll show you the form my father used to call 'The Falling Crescent.' Watch and learn."
***
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