The two months following my fifth birthday—or rather, my third, as this body insisted—were a period of intense, focused, and exhilarating activity. With the System as my relentless coach and interface, every action became quantified, every effort a step toward a tangible goal. The world transformed from a living story into a living game, and I was determined to master its mechanics.
The first order of business was the Quest. First Steps to Power. I'd already allocated my stats. Objective two was simple: use Identify ten times. I spent an entire afternoon systematically scanning everything in my immediate vicinity that wouldn't raise eyebrows: my bedding, a spoon, a patch of grass, a curious beetle, my own hand. Each use cost 1 MP, but with the Ring of Mana Clarity, my modest pool refilled in minutes. The notifications were satisfying.
<< Identify used on [Wool Blanket]. Success. >>
<< Identify used on [Granite Pebble]. Success. >>
...
<< Objective 2 Updated: Use the Identify skill 10 times. (10/10) >>
<< Partial Quest Reward: 25 EXP. >>
The third objective, however, was a hurdle. Assimilate a new trait from a creature of Level 1 or higher. The ants, spiders, and songbirds around the house were all Level 0. I needed something with a bit more metaphysical weight. My chance came during one of Paul's increasingly frantic attempts to give us "basic survival training" in the woods near Buina.
"Pay attention, you two!" Paul barked, hands on his hips as Rudeus and I stood before him, our tiny practice swords held clumsily. "The foundation of the sword is the stance! Without a proper stance, you're just waving a stick!"
Rudeus, ever the analyst, immediately shifted his feet, trying to find the optimal biomechanical position for force distribution. I, with my fledgling DEX bonus and spatial awareness trait, found a stable, balanced posture almost instinctively. It still felt awkward—my body was three, after all—but it was better than Rudeus's overthought, stiff pose.
"Huh," Paul grunted, looking at me. "Leon, not bad. A bit narrow, but solid. Rudeus, you look like a startled goat. Loosen your knees!"
As Paul continued his lecture, my enhanced senses, a cocktail of my innate Observation skill and my minor Assimilation traits, picked up on a disturbance in the undergrowth. A rustle, a faint squeak of aggression. I subtly turned my head. There, in a tangle of roots, a [Forest Weasel - Lv. 1] was locked in a mortal struggle with a large, iridescent [Stag Beetle - Lv. 0]. The weasel was winning, its sharp teeth worrying the beetle's armored shell.
My Hunger stirred, more insistently than it ever had for a Level 0 creature. This was my target. I needed to get to it, and I needed to finish it. Not with my sword—Paul would have a conniption—but with my power.
"Father," I said, putting on my best innocent, concerned face. "I think I heard a hurt animal over there." I pointed vaguely toward the roots.
Paul paused, glancing over. "Probably just a weasel. Nasty things. Don't go near it." He turned back to Rudeus, correcting his grip.
This was my moment. While Paul was distracted, I focused on the weasel. It had just delivered a killing bite to the beetle. Its health bar, visible only to me, was at about 80/100. It was distracted, feeding. I extended my will, feeling for that thread of Devouring energy. It was easier this time, the pathway more practiced. A thin, crimson filament lashed out and connected to the weasel.
The creature jerked, letting out a pained shriek. It tried to scramble away, but the connection held. I pushed, pouring my intent—my hunger—down the line. I didn't just want to siphon a trait; I wanted to claim the essence of a Level 1 creature. To consume.
The weasel's struggles weakened. Its vibrant brown fur dulled. Its life force, a small, bright ember, was pulled down the thread and into me. The sensation was profoundly different from the passive absorption of a dead bird. This was active, violent, and… satisfying. A rush of warmth and vitality flooded my system, followed by a sharper, more defined notification.
<< You have defeated [Forest Weasel - Lv. 1]. EXP gained. >>
<< Assimilated Trait: 'Weasel's Agility (Minor)' - Slightly increases movement speed and reflexes. >>
<< New Trait Synergy Detected! 'Weasel's Agility (Minor)' + 'Faint Breeze Affinity (Minor)' = 'Enhanced Mobility Package' forming. >>
<< Quest Objective 3 Completed! >>
<< Quest: First Steps to Power - Completed! >>
<< Rewards: 125 EXP, 50 SP, [Random Low-Grade Skill Book] awarded. >>
<< Level Up! You are now Level 2! >>
<< Points to Allocate: 5 >>
A cascade of blue light, invisible to all but me, swirled around my body. I felt a slight stretching sensation in my limbs, a tightening in my core. The EXP from the quest, combined with the weasel kill, had pushed me over. I was Level 2. I immediately banked the 5 stat points, resisting the powerful urge to spend them. Train naturally to the limit first, I reminded myself. The system was a booster, not a crutch.
The skill book materialized in my inventory. I willed it used.
<< You have learned the skill: [Mend] (Common). Allows for the repair of minor breaks and tears in simple, non-magical objects. Cost: Varies by damage. >>
A useful, utterly mundane skill. Perfect. I could practice it endlessly without suspicion.
Paul, hearing the weasel's final cry, looked over. "See? Nasty. Good ears, Leon. Now, back to your stances!"
Rudeus had been watching me, not Paul. His sharp eyes had caught my focused expression, the slight tensing of my body. He said nothing, but the look he gave me was pure, unadulterated curiosity laced with a hint of wariness. The unspoken treaty held, but the mystery had deepened.
---
The incident that changed our domestic lives happened six weeks later. It was a rainy afternoon, and we were confined to the main room of the house. Rudeus, having finally badgered Paul into a rudimentary explanation of mana and its "feel," was vibrating with intellectual energy. I, with my Ring of Mana Clarity and a steadily growing INT stat, could feel the mana around us with startling acuity—a swirling, colorful mist of potential that responded to my will.
"So, if mana is everywhere," Rudeus mused, staring at a droplet of water running down the windowpane, "and it can be shaped by incantations and intent to produce elemental effects…"
"Then theoretically," I continued, playing the eager co-conspirator, "one could bypass the incantation entirely with sufficient focus and internal mana manipulation. Silent casting."
Paul, dozing in his chair after lunch, snorted. "Silent casting? Boys, that's advanced stuff. Royal Mage-level. You need to walk before you can run. Start with the nursery rhymes of magic: 'Water Ball,' 'Fire Spark.' Chant them until they're in your bones."
But Rudeus's eyes were gleaming. He held out his palm, his face a mask of intense concentration. I could see the mana in the air begin to stir, drawn toward his small hand. He wasn't trying for a specific element; he was trying to gather raw mana, to feel its shape.
I decided to join him. Not to be outdone, and curious to test my own control, I extended my own hand. With my mana sense, it was like dipping my fingers into a cool, electric stream. I focused on the concept of gathering, of compression.
We didn't know the proper chants. We didn't have a spellform. We had only theory, will, and in my case, a system-assisted understanding of my own MP as a tangible resource.
A faint, shimmering sphere of distorted air, faintly blue, began to form between Rudeus's palms. At the same time, a similar, slightly more stable sphere of gathered force, tinged with a hint of grey from my own unfocused intent, hovered over my own hand.
Paul's snoring stopped. He opened one eye.
"Fascinating," Rudeus whispered. "The cohesion is maintained by continuous willpower input. A feedback loop. The efficiency is terrible, but the proof of concept—"
"Boys," Paul said, his voice dangerously calm. "What are you doing?"
We both looked up, our concentration breaking.
The two spheres of unstable, silent-gathered mana didn't just dissipate. They imploded with a soft whump of displaced air, then rebounded outward in a concussive ripple.
The force wasn't powerful, but it was enough. It hit the nearby wall—the interior wall of the main living area—with a sound like a giant slapping a wet rug. A web of cracks raced across the plaster and wood. A section about the size of a dinner plate disintegrated into dust and splinters, revealing the lathe work beneath.
Silence, broken only by the patter of rain.
Zenith, who had been sewing in the corner, stared, needle frozen in mid-air. Paul slowly stood up, his face pale, then red, then pale again. He looked from the hole in his wall, to Rudeus's proud but suddenly nervous expression, to my own carefully constructed look of shocked innocence.
"We… we were just testing a hypothesis, Father," Rudeus offered weakly.
"A hypothesis that blew a hole in my house!" Paul roared, finally finding his voice. He ran a hand through his spiky red hair. "By the gods… silent mana gathering? Without a chant? At three years old?" He looked at us, not with anger now, but with dawning, bewildered awe and a father's deep concern. "You two… what are you?"
The conversation that evening was tense. Paul and Zenith spoke in hushed tones long after Rudeus and I were sent to our shared room.
"They're prodigies, Zenith. Monstrous prodigies," Paul whispered, his voice carrying through the thin door. "That wasn't an accident. That was controlled experimentation. They meant to do that. Rudeus was theorizing about silent casting! Silent casting!"
"They're our sons, Paul," Zenith replied, her voice firm but worried. "They're just… very bright. And curious."
"Bright? Zenith, they're a danger to themselves and the village! What if next time it's not a wall? What if it's one of them? Or a neighbor? They need training. Proper training. I can teach them the sword until my hair falls out, but this?" He sighed, a sound of sheer helplessness. "I'm out of my depth. We need a magic tutor. A real one."
And so, the decision was made. Letters were sent. The Greyrat family fortune, modest but respectable, would be spent on hiring a qualified tutor. The goal: to channel the "monstrous prodigies" into safe, disciplined mastery.
In the meantime, life continued. Paul, true to his word, doubled down on swordsmanship lessons. They were a comedic agony.
"No, no, no!" Paul would groan as Rudeus attempted to analyze the perfect angle for a downward slash using geometry. "You don't think it, you feel it! Let your body move!"
Rudeus would adjust minutely, his strike becoming even stiffer. "But Father, if I optimize the kinetic transfer through the lumbar region—"
"SWING THE STICK, RUDEUS!"
I fared slightly better. My minor agility and dexterity traits gave me better coordination. I could mimic the movements Paul showed us with passable form. But I lacked the instinct, the fluidity. I was executing a command, not performing a action. My strikes were precise but empty. Paul would watch me and shake his head.
"You've got the moves, Leon, but there's no heart in it. You look like you're solving a math problem. A sword is an extension of your will! Put some intent behind it!"
He wasn't wrong. I was treating it like a skill to be grinded. Which it was. I made a mental note: Shop for a high-tier Swordsmanship Trait or Skill Book once SP allows. Cannot rely on natural talent here.
The System, however, rewarded the effort. After each grueling session, a notification would pop up.
<< New Skill Unlocked: [Swordsmanship (Novice)] Lv. 1 >>
<< Through repeated action, [Swordsmanship (Novice)] has increased to Lv. 2. >>
It was a start.
While swordsmanship was a slow grind, my other project—Assimilation—became a dedicated, if secret, hobby. Killing the weasel had been a psychological hurdle. The act of actively draining a creature's life had been unsettling, a primal violation. But the rush of power, the tangible gain, had been undeniably thrilling. A dark part of me had enjoyed it.
I decided on a more palatable, sustainable method. I wouldn't go hunting creatures. I would become the ultimate pest control. Our house and the surrounding yard became my hunting ground.
I'd find a fat, juicy [Common Housefly - Lv. 0]. A flick of my will, a crimson thread, and it would drop, desiccated. << Assimilated Minor Trait: 'Compound Eye Processing (Microscopic)' - Slightly improves peripheral vision and motion tracking. >>
A [Garden Centipede - Lv. 0] met its end behind a rain barrel. << Assimilated Minor Trait: 'Multi-limb Coordination (Dormant)' - Negligible improvement in complex task handling. >>
A [Field Mouse - Lv. 0] that raided the pantry didn't stand a chance. << Assimilated Minor Trait: 'Gnawing Strength (Minor)' - Slight increase to jaw muscle density and bite force. >>
I accumulated over a dozen of these minuscule traits. Most were classified as [Minor] or [Microscopic], their effects barely perceptible alone. But they stacked. I could feel the collective difference. My senses were sharper. My reactions were quicker. My body, even at three, was tougher, more resilient than it had any right to be. I'd taken a few accidental bumps and scrapes during "sword practice" with Rudeus, and they healed with startling speed.
The system noted synergies. My growing collection of sensory traits—from the spider, the fly, the weasel—began to merge into a [Basic Sensory Suite - Forming]. My mobility traits were already packaged. It seemed if I collected enough related minor traits, they would evolve into a unified, more potent basic trait.
I also began a riskier experiment: partial manifestation. Focusing on the [Gnawing Strength] trait, I willed the effect to localize just in my jaw. A faint, almost imperceptible tightening in my teeth and cheeks occurred. I bit down on a tough piece of dried jerky I'd sneaked from the kitchen. It shredded far more easily than it should have. Reversing the focus, I tried to draw on the weasel's agility just in my legs during a run. My sprint across the garden became a blur, startling a clucking chicken. It was crude, energy-intensive, but it worked. I was learning to customize my own biology on the fly.
All this activity fed the System. I completed mundane quests with glee.
<< New Quest: A Helping Hand >>
Objective: Assist Zenith with a household chore.
Reward: 10 EXP, 5 SP.
<< Completed! EXP gained. SP gained. >>
<< New Quest: Pest Control >>
Objective: Eliminate 5 insect pests within the household.
Reward: 25 EXP, 15 SP.
<< Completed! EXP gained. SP gained. >>
<< Achievement Unlocked: Junior Helper! >>
<< Achievement Unlocked: Exterminator Apprentice! >>
The EXP and SP trickled in steadily. My avoidance of spending stat points meant my natural growth, amplified by my constant trait assimilation, was being pushed. I was building a wide, deep foundation. By the time the letter arrived from the Magic Guild, bearing the name of our new tutor, I had reached Level 7 through sheer, relentless daily grinding. I had 35 stat points burning a hole in my metaphorical pocket and a SP hoard of 1,430. I felt like a dragon sitting on a pile of treasure, waiting for the perfect moment to invest.
---
The day Roxy Migurdia arrived was overcast, a damp chill in the air. Paul was uncharacteristically nervous, fidgeting with his tunic. "Now remember, she's a Migurd. Demon race. Long blue hair, purple eyes. Very skilled, very respected. Be polite. No theories about silent casting unless she asks!"
Rudeus was practically vibrating, his earlier perversions (which had manifested as an… appreciative eye for Zenith's and the village women's figures, much to my disgust and amusement) forgotten in the face of meeting a real, live magic-wielding demon.
I was curious. This was a pivotal character from the story. The stoic, kind, deeply competent tutor who would set Rudeus on his path.
When she walked through the door, she was smaller than I'd imagined, her demeanor calm and professional. Her long, cerulean blue hair was tied back, and her amethyst eyes held a reserved intelligence. She bowed politely to Paul and Zenith.
"Thank you for having me. I am Roxy Migurdia."
"The pleasure is ours!" Paul said, too loudly. "These are the terrors—ahem, the students. Rudeus and Leon."
We bowed in unison. "Pleased to meet you, Teacher Roxy," we chorused.
Her eyes swept over us, and I saw a flicker of surprise. Her mana sense was likely far more advanced than Paul's. She could probably feel the oddity radiating from us—the dense, controlled potential in Rudeus, and from me, something… hungrier, more multifaceted, with a strange clarity at its center thanks to the ring.
"The pleasure is mine," she said, a small smile touching her lips. "I understand you have an… active interest in magic."
The first lesson was a revelation. Roxy was a world away from Paul's bluster. She was methodical, clear, and patient. She started with the absolute basics: mana detection and circulation. Things I already understood intuitively through my system and ring, and Rudeus had theorized about. But hearing it structured, explained with Migurdia precision, solidified everything.
She had us sit and close our eyes. "Feel the mana within you. A small, warm pool. Now, feel the mana around you. Draw a tiny bit in, cycle it through your body, and release it. Not to cast. Just to feel the flow."
For me, with my MP bar and regeneration rate visible, it was like watching a tutorial on a process I'd already automated. I did it perfectly on the first try, the mana flowing in a smooth, efficient circuit. I saw my [Mana Control] skill appear and immediately jump to Lv. 3.
Rudeus, next to me, also managed it quickly, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Roxy's eyes widened slightly. "Good. Very good. Both of you." She looked between us. "Now, let us try the most basic of spells. The [Water Ball]. I will chant slowly. Follow along, but focus more on the feeling than the words initially."
She began the chant. I didn't need it. The moment she described the spellform—the mental image of gathering water-attuned mana and shaping it into a sphere—my system provided a helpful, ghostly blue diagram in my mind's eye. I focused, drew 5 MP from my pool, and willed it into existence.
A perfectly spherical, palm-sized ball of water, clear and stable, coalesced above my hand. No chant. No sound.
At the same exact moment, an identical water ball formed over Rudeus's hand.
Silence.
Roxy stared. Her professional composure cracked, revealing sheer, unadulterated shock. Paul, who had been lurking in the doorway, made a choking sound.
"You…" Roxy breathed. "You both… silent cast a perfect beginner's spell on the first attempt after a single explanation." She looked at Paul. "You said they were prodigies. This is not prodigy. This is… unprecedented."
Rudeus beamed, the water ball shimmering. "The theory of mana shaping is quite logical once you understand the underlying principles of—"
"Quiet, Rudeus," I said, smiling sweetly. "Let the teacher process." I let my water ball gently splash to the floor.
Roxy took a deep breath, collecting herself. A fierce, excited light ignited in her purple eyes. "Unprecedented," she repeated, a smile finally breaking through. "This changes the lesson plan entirely."
The following weeks were a golden time. Swordsmanship with Paul in the mornings was still a comedic struggle.
"I don't get it!" Paul moaned one day after Rudeus attempted to parry using calculated vectors. "Magic comes to you like breathing, but you swing a sword like you've never seen your own arms before!"
"Perhaps," Rudeus panted, "the neurological pathways for fine mana manipulation are distinct from those governing gross motor combat skills."
"Speak Common, boy!"
I, meanwhile, had managed to get my [Swordsmanship (Novice)] to Lv. 4 through grinding. My strikes were mechanically sound but still lacking that elusive "heart." Paul looked at my form, then at Rudeus's chaos, and sighed. "At least you look like you're holding a sword, Leon. Even if you do it like you're balancing the kingdom's accounts."
But the afternoons with Roxy were pure bliss. She pushed us, hard. She taught us [Fireball], [Earth Pillar], [Wind Cutter], and [Heal]. We silent-cast them all within days, our MP pools and control growing rapidly. Rudeus, with his fanatical focus, excelled at precision and power, quickly specializing in Water and Fire. I, with my system allowing me to see exact MP costs and efficiencies, and my mind geared towards adaptability, found myself drawn to Earth for its defensive utility and Wind for its synergy with my mobility traits.
Roxy also taught us the more common chants, drilling us on them. "Silent casting is a tremendous advantage," she said, "but knowing the chants is part of magical literacy. It also allows for spell empowerment and combination magics later."
We learned. We absorbed. The house was no longer in danger of random explosions; our control was now too fine. Instead, the garden bore the brunt of our experiments—patches of frost, circles of scorched earth, small, neatly excavated pits, and oddly localized gusts of wind that left the laundry in disarray.
Through it all, the dynamic between us all solidified. Paul was the loving, baffled, proud jock father. Zenith was the warm, grounding center. Roxy was the stern but deeply impressed and caring mentor. Rudeus was the genius, the theorist, the one who would spend hours after lessons writing notes in a secret journal (which I pretended not to know about).
And me? I was the other one. The quiet one. The one who picked things up just as fast as Rudeus but without the fanfare. The one who would sometimes stare at a bug a little too long before it inexplicably died. The one who could suddenly run just a bit too fast or shake off a minor injury too quickly. Rudeus noticed. Roxy noticed. But they said nothing, accepting me as another part of the wonderful, bizarre puzzle that was our family.
One evening, after a particularly good lesson where Rudeus had mastered a tier-2 [Water Snipe] and I'd managed a rudimentary [Earthen Shell], we were all eating dinner. Paul was recounting a (likely exaggerated) tale of his knightly days.
"...and then the beast, a Scale King as big as this house, roared! But did I retreat? No! I raised my sword and—"
"Father," Rudeus interrupted, his mouth full of potato. "Given the average lung capacity and vocal cord structure of a draconic species, a roar of that purported volume would have likely ruptured your eardrums and caused internal hemorrhaging before you could raise your sword."
Paul's story died in his throat. He glared. Zenith hid a smile behind her hand. Roxy coughed, trying not to laugh.
I saw my opening. "Maybe the beast was just yawning, Father," I said innocently. "And you bravely attacked it while it was stretching. Very tactical. Exploiting an enemy's post-sleep disorientation."
The table erupted. Paul turned his glare on me, but it was half-hearted. He couldn't stay mad. "Ganging up on your old man, eh? Just for that, double sword drills tomorrow!"
Rudeus and I groaned in unison, then shared a quick, conspiratorial grin. It was a good life. A life of magic, mystery, and constant, secret growth.
Later that night, in our shared room, as Rudeus mumbled in his sleep about "mana particle density," I pulled up my status screen. The two-month report was impressive.
---
STATUS
Name: [Leon] Greyrat (Twin Eldest)
Age: 3
Title: The Devouring Twin, New Game+
Level: 7
Experience: 421/700
Traits:
· Rodent's Resilience (Minor)
· Passive Wall-crawling Sense (Minor)
· Faint Breeze Affinity (Minor)
· Weasel's Agility (Minor)
· Compound Eye Processing (Microscopic)
· Multi-limb Coordination (Dormant)
· Gnawing Strength (Minor)
· Insect Chitin Density (Microscopic) x2
· Night Crawler's Vigor (Minor)
· Earthworm's Tolerance (Microscopic)
· Moth's Dust Sense (Microscopic)
· [Enhanced Mobility Package - Forming]
· [Basic Sensory Suite - Forming]
HP: 185/185
MP: 52/52 (+50% Regen)
STR: 11
VIT: 16
DEX: 14
INT: 22
WIS: 19
LUCK: 10
Unallocated Stat Points: 35
System Points (SP): 1,430
---
SKILLS
· Language Comprehension (Human-Tongue): Lv. 5
· Identify: Lv. 2
· Mend: Lv. 3
· Observation: Lv. 5
· Stealth (Child): Lv. 3
· Mana Control: Lv. 6
· Waterball: Lv. 4
· Fireball: Lv. 3
· Earth Pillar: Lv. 3
· Wind Cutter: Lv. 4
· Heal: Lv. 2
· Swordsmanship (Novice): Lv. 4
---
QUEST LOG (Active)
· Magical Apprentice: Reach Mana Control Lv. 10. Reward: 300 EXP, 100 SP.
· Trait Evolution: Merge 5 related Minor Traits into 1 Basic Trait. Reward: 500 EXP, 200 SP, [Random Trait Enhancer].
---
I dismissed the screen, the blue glow fading from my vision. Thirty-five points. Over fourteen hundred SP. A growing arsenal of magic and minor traits. The foundation was laid, thicker and stronger than I'd ever imagined. The tutorial with Roxy was in full swing. The known story was unfolding around me.
But my path was my own. A path of menus, of consumption, of light and murder waiting in the wings. I looked over at my sleeping brother, the original hero of this tale. We were twins, two sides of the same strange coin. His journey would be one of redemption, magic, and love.
Mine? Mine would be the grind. And I was just getting warmed up.
As I closed my eyes, the twin seeds of my Cursed Techniques—the cold, dense knot and the warm, buzzing point—stirred faintly in my soul, as if responding to the promise of the challenges to come. The game was indeed on, and this Player was just starting to optimize his build.