### Chapter 4: Whispers of a New Dawn
**Dawnspire, Eldoria – Year 1**
The soft glow of a single candle flickered across the stone walls of Taren Etheris's nursery, casting dancing shadows that seemed to whisper secrets. Taren—still Zane Ryde in his mind—lay in his wooden cradle, his tiny body restless despite the warmth of the coarse linen. A year had passed since his rebirth in this strange world, and the infant frame he inhabited chafed against his Earth-honed will. His dark eyes, sharp even now, traced the glowing runes etched into the walls, their faint hum a constant reminder of Eldoria's magic. Outside, the night was quiet, broken only by the distant murmur of Dawnspire's market winding down.
His new mother, Lira, sat nearby, her merchant's hands mending a torn sack under the candlelight. Her face, etched with lines of hard work, softened as she glanced at him. "Growing strong, little Taren," she murmured in Eldic, her voice a gentle cadence he'd grown to understand thanks to the system's reward from his first quest. Gavren, his father, had stepped out to negotiate with a fishman trader, his gruff voice fading into the night. Taren's daily life here was a stark contrast to Earth—no boardrooms, no fight rings, just the rhythm of a merchant family's home. Yet, his genius mind, sharpened by years of outsmarting tycoons and assassins, refused to stagnate.
Memories of Earth lingered like ghosts. The *Celestine*'s final moments haunted him—the storm's roar, Marcus's tearful retreat, the beam pinning his leg as the sea claimed him. At 28, he'd been a global icon, born into one of Earth's top three wealthiest families, his parents lost to a terrorist bomb at 5. At 12, he'd ended their killers, vowing to live loud against his family's secrecy. His days had been a whirlwind: mornings crushing deals, afternoons training in Krav Maga, evenings mentoring talents or dodging bullets. Now, he was a toddler, crawling toward power in a world of Starcracks and Starstones.
A faint *ding* echoed in his mind, and the red-and-black system panel flickered before his eyes:
**[Low Profile System: Update]**
**Status: Host has adapted to Eldic environment. Perfect Body fusion progress: 11 years remaining. Limited functions available: Basic Observation (Active).**
**New Objective: Silent Growth – Develop physical coordination without drawing attention. Reward: Enhanced Agility (E-rank). Penalty: +10 Profile Points (PP).**
**Profile Points (PP): 0 (Optimal)**
**Note: Thrive in silence, Host. Power attracts eyes.**
Taren's lips twitched, a silent smirk. *Silent growth?* He'd built an empire by standing out, not hiding. But he'd play this game—for now. His Earth life had taught him strategy: dodge assassins in Dubai, outwit Elena Voss in a boardroom, laugh with Marcus over whiskey. Here, he'd adapt. He focused on the quest, willing his tiny hands to grip the cradle's edge. His muscles, weak as they were, responded sluggishly, but he persisted, pulling himself up. Lira glanced over, smiling. "Look at you, already curious!" she said, unaware of the battle within.
The door creaked open, and Gavren entered, his broad frame filling the room. His beard glistened with mist from the Seas of Mist traders, and his eyes held a weary pride. "Good deal," he grunted, setting a sack of mana-rich shells on the table. "Fishmen drive a hard bargain, but Lira's charms sealed it." Taren's mind noted the detail—mana-rich shells, a resource tied to Eldoria's magic. On Earth, he'd turned raw materials into gold; here, he'd do the same.
"Any trouble?" Lira asked, her voice tinged with concern. Dawnspire's market had grown tense lately, whispers of **Starwardens** patrolling and **Dusk Circle** agents stirring unrest.
"Starwarden was asking about a glowing child," Gavren said, lowering his voice. "Said the Starstone's light spiked last year—same night Taren was born. Coincidence, maybe." His gaze lingered on Taren, a flicker of unease in his eyes.
Taren's heart quickened. *Glowing child?* The system had hinted at his power—Creation Magic, sealed until his Perfect Body fused at 12. His Earth tattoos had burned before death, a sign of something cosmic. The Starstone's glow tied to his birth suggested a connection, perhaps to the Aetherians his gut told him to investigate. He stifled a coo, keeping his PP at zero, as the system warned: **"Careful, Host. Curiosity spikes attention."**
Days in Dawnspire followed a simple rhythm. Mornings, Lira taught him basic tasks—holding a spoon, stacking blocks—while Gavren haggled in the market. Afternoons, Taren watched from a window, observing humans, elves, and beastmen trade Starstones and mana crystals. Evenings, he listened to their tales: dungeons spawning beasts, Starcracks widening, a shadowy group—Dusk Circle—plotting chaos. His Earth life had been loud, public; here, he learned silence, storing knowledge like a merchant hoarding goods.
One evening, a commotion broke out below. Taren crawled to the window, peering down. A Starwarden, robed in star-embroidered cloth, confronted a hooded figure near the glowing Starstone. Sparks flew as mana clashed, and the crowd scattered. Gavren rushed in, scooping Taren up. "Stay back," he muttered, his grip tight. The system chimed: **"Event Detected: Potential PP Spike. Remain unseen."**
Taren's mind raced. On Earth, he'd have intervened, turned chaos to profit. Here, he nodded subtly, letting Gavren shield him. *Patience,* he thought. He'd build something greater than his Earth empire—an order, a legacy. The Obsidian Sovereign's birth was near, even if Eldoria didn't know it. As Gavren set him down, Taren's eyes gleamed with defiance. *Bow to the shadows, or be consumed by them.*
**[Quest Accepted: Silent Growth]**
**Time Limit: 30 days. Reward: Enhanced Agility (E-rank). Penalty: +10 PP.**
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