Five years had passed since Rick awoke in this strange, alien world, trapped in a child's body, yet haunted by memories that felt all too real. At first, he'd held onto hope, waiting for some kind of guide or advantage – a digital map, a stat screen, or even just a hint of guidance. But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, nothing came. No guidance, no support, just endless baby talk, training, and sleepless nights.
Rick let out a deep sigh, his tiny fingers tracing patterns on the bedsheet. "Five years," he muttered, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. He thought about others who'd awakened to grand inheritances or legendary bloodlines. Meanwhile, he was stuck with nothing – not even a whisper of guidance.
A spark of anger flared within him, and his face twisted into a pout. For a moment, he looked like a child on the verge of tears. Yet, beneath the sarcasm, something raw and unsettling smoldered. He hated the waiting, the silence, and the gnawing uncertainty. He wasn't afraid of death; he'd already died once. What unsettled him was the pointlessness – if fate had dragged him here just to mock him, then fine, but he'd go down fighting.
Despite his grumbling, Rick wasn't just any child. He was the youngest beast tamer in the world, with a mana capacity that seemed bottomless and a mind sharper than any five-year-old's should be. That strange blend of innocence and unnerving maturity left even his caretakers uneasy.
A servant rushed over, robes flapping, and bowed deeply. "Young Master, the beast you requested has arrived." Rick's small face remained serene as he tilted his head and replied in a bell-like voice, "Okay. You are free to leave." Though childish in pitch, his tone carried a weight that unsettled anyone unaccustomed to him.
As the servant left, Rick added, "I'll be heading to my room now, Madam Evane." Evane – Grand Magus, guardian, mentor, and almost-mother – watched him go, her chest heavy with both pride and fear. She had borne witness to miracles – wars that sundered kingdoms, monstrosities birthed from nightmares, calamities divine – yet none compared to Rick. From the moment of his birth, he had upended everything she thought she knew about bloodlines, magic, and fate itself.
To tame a beast at five years old – even a lowly E-rank – wasn't just rare. It was impossible. As she watched Rick stroll away, hands clasped behind his back like a scholar twice reborn, Evane couldn't help but feel a sense of awe.
In his chamber, Rick sat cross-legged on a thick carpet embroidered with runes of silence and warmth. He studied the cage before him, contemplating whether to contract the magical beast or not – simply because he could. The creature crouched within was grotesque – a mangy rat with patchwork fur, teeth too long for its jaw, and eyes clouded like misted glass. But it had a hidden ability: it could sniff out mana-rich plants and detect hidden traps or cursed objects.
Rick's gaze lingered on the beast, and then he stood up, walked toward his humongous bed, and murmured to himself, relishing some distant memory. "Being a baby was peak humiliation – crying for attention, wetting myself, stomach cramps, hunger tantrums… the ultimate downgrade." He shuddered slightly, a faint smile on his lips. "And why won't anyone tell me where my parents really are? I deserve answers. I'm me. I deserve answers."
As he spoke, the beast's tail suddenly caught fire. Rick glared at it and ignored it altogether, continuing his monologue. Later, Rick called out to Evane, his voice soft but determined. "Madam Evane, I think it's time I learned more about the outside world." Evane arched a brow, her expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "Books on geography? Politics? History?" Rick's response was simple: "All of it. I want to know how the world really works."
As they walked toward the vast library, Rick tugged lightly at Evane's sleeve. "And one more thing… Can you stop calling me 'Young Master'? Just call me Rick." Evane blinked, caught off guard, and for the first time in years, a soft chuckle slipped past her lips. "Then you'll have to stop calling me Madam Evane. Just Evane."
Meanwhile, in the eastern borderlands, Francisca and Anthony stood before what was said to be a covert enemy hideout. The structure rose like a shrine to madness – walls mottled with the stains of old blood, bone totems swaying in a cursed air dense enough to choke breath itself. Francisca's hand hovered over her blade as she whispered, "This is it?"
Anthony's eyes narrowed as he scanned. "That's what the tip said." Francisca's voice was tight. "This looks like a slaughterhouse." Anthony couldn't fault her; the place reeked of baleful energy – enough to seed nightmares for a lifetime.
In the dimly lit grand hall, a red-spiky-haired man hunched in a shadowed chamber, fists bloodied. His hair clung to sweat, his shoulders trembled. "I did what you asked," he growled at the glowing crystal orb. "Now let my wife and son go." The voice that answered was smooth, detached, and playful. "Now, now. Don't be dramatic."
The figure leaned closer, voice a hiss. "Come to us if you want her back." The Red Demon's cry split the silence of the hall, a sound of anguish so raw it begged for answer, yet none came.
Back at the manor, Evane froze mid-step, her body stiffening as she sensed something wrong. Her instincts screamed, and she dropped to one knee. Whispered, "Forgive me." Two fingers touched Rick's forehead, and he collapsed. Blood dripped from her palm as she chanted words not spoken in fifty thousand years. Ancient runes burned across Rick's small body. Magic roared. The room shook. Flames engulfed him, and he was gone.
Only ash remained of the two-year-old boy. Evane slumped to the floor, mana drained to the dregs. A heartbeat later, Rick reappeared – a gentle old man with a cane, white beard, and plain robes. Harmless in appearance, with a serene, almost kindly smile. But his aura told the truth; it shattered space, cracking the marble beneath his feet.
As the old man spoke, his voice was smooth, almost nostalgic. "Well now… aren't you that disciple girl they adopted five thousand years ago? And to think – you've already become a Grand Magus." Evane forced her head up, barely breathing. "You're… a demigod. No. An enhanced fragment. Artificial… Divine Magus." The old man's smile grew wider. "Clever girl. But cleverness won't save you." Behind his gaze lurked extinction.