[Countdown to Maturation]
Target reaches age 13 in: 16 hours, 42 minutes.
Tomorrow at 05:00 AM.
"Tomorrow at five in the morning, huh?" Kairo let out a dry, chuckling breath, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Well... it's exciting. I'm getting older. Getting stronger. I wonder what I'll even become in the future. Just think about it..."
He tilted his head back against the bark, looking up through the canopy at the pale blue sky.
"This world is completely insane. I haven't even explored the Bunkers of Harmony yet. That was just the beginning. Think about the rest of this entire realm... actual monsters, fairies, genies, ancient ruins... It could be such a wonderful adventure."
The excitement faded as quickly as it had come, replaced by a sudden, metallic tightness in his chest.
Kairo reached down, unbuttoning his tunic and slipping the linen garment off his shoulders. The morning air bit at his bare skin, carrying the crisp scent of crushed pine needles and damp soil. But his eyes weren't on the garden. They were locked onto his chest.
Etched directly over his heart was a swirling, light-devouring void—the indelible mark left by the mysterious entity. A slow, shuddering exhale escaped his throat, misting faintly in the cool air.
"Ugh... Only if I hadn't signed that damn contract. It really would be a nice world."
He stared at the mark for a long moment before shaking his head, trying to dislodge the creeping dread. He pulled his tunic back over his shoulders and flopped backward, lying flat on the manicured grass. Overhead, autumn-tinged leaves detached from their branches, drifting downward in slow, lazy spirals.
"I wonder... will I end up a truly strong man? Or am I going to conquer the entire world?"
He paused, the ridiculousness of the thought striking him.
"Wait, wait, wait. The whole world?"
Kairo stared up at the green and gold canopy, his mind drifting into the quiet space he usually avoided.
What are my goals, really?
Ever since my world changed... ever since I was pulled into this place...
He closed his eyes. The ambient rustle of the royal garden faded, replaced by the faint memory of a cramped, drafty room that smelled of boiled cabbage and cheap detergent.
I miss my old family, he thought, a hollow ache blooming behind his ribs. I wonder what my annoying sister and little brother are doing right now. Are my parents okay? We were so poor back then... At least now, wherever they are, I hope they have enough to eat.
He opened his eyes, staring up at his open palm.
"I'm a prince now," he whispered to the empty air, his voice cracking slightly. "I just wish... I wish I could give them the power and money I have right now. Just hand it over to them."
He rubbed his face with both hands, groaning softly.
"Ugh. Anyway... what even is this world?"
Does this world offer powers that will turn me into a living monster? A terrifying tyrant? What am I going to become if I keep gaining all this strength?
He turned onto his side, curling his legs slightly as a darker thought took root.
"Ugh, seriously... it's so confusing. What if Father and Mother have another child? A real son. Someone with Father's actual bloodline..." A bitter chill settled in his stomach. "He'd probably outpace me in seconds. Then what? Will Aria be taken away from me too?"
He groaned again, burying his face in his arm. "Ugh. I seriously need to stop reading those webnovels I keep summoning from the system."
Sighing, Kairo pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, brushing dirt and dry blades of grass from his trousers. As he pulled his right pant leg down, his eyes caught something on his calf.
A jet-black, coin-sized spot sat just beneath his skin, absolute and unyielding against his pale flesh.
Kairo froze. He leaned closer, squinting.
Hmm... Maybe it's just a scab? I've been in plenty of battles lately. Or... could it be residual poison?
His eyes darted to a small silver paring knife resting on a stone tray nearby, left behind by the servants who had brought out peeled apples earlier that morning. The polished steel gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
Kairo swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry.
What if something bad happens if I leave it?
"Ugh... It's probably just a normal black spot. What could go wrong?" He muttered the words aloud, trying to drown out the instinctual alarm ringing in his head. "Maybe I should just use my healing magic on it."
Taking a deep breath, Kairo closed his eyes and reached inside himself. He tapped into his mana core, channeling a bright, lukewarm stream of energy down through his leg. The magic surged outward, coalescing into a shimmering, golden membrane that wrapped tightly around the dark patch.
The moment his magic made contact, a faint, acrid smell—like scorched ozone and old copper—whiffed into the air.
Carefully, using the mana as a fine, microscopic scalpel, Kairo worked beneath the epidermis, lifting the dark taint away from his living tissue. With a sharp, agonizing tug that sent a spike of white heat up his nerve endings, he severed the spot from his flesh.
Blood welled for a fraction of a second before his golden healing magic surged into the small wound, knitting the skin back together until it was smooth, pale, and unblemished.
Flicking his wrist, Kairo hurled the detached black mass onto the dirt. The moment it hit the soil, the black spot didn't rot or bleed—it simply dissolved into cold, drifting particles of dim blue mana, vanishing into the earth without a trace.
Kairo let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, sinking back against the tree trunk and wiping a cold bead of sweat from his forehead.
"Ugh... No more adventures for now."
He closed his eyes, listening to the soft rustle of the wind through the leaves.
"Still... it was a good adventure," Kairo thought, a small, tired smile touching his lips. "It was painful. It was terrifying. But in the end... I survived. And that's all that matters."
Kairo pulled his knees toward his chest, his gaze drifting aimlessly into the manicured shrubbery. The quiet inside his own head had turned sharp, jagged, and intrusive.
What am I actually going to become in the future?
Will I ever get a normal life? Or am I just destined to keep suffering like this... over and over again?
A sudden rise in voices broke his spiraling thoughts. Across the sun-drenched courtyard, past the polished marble pillars of the grand colonnade, King Ariston and Queen Ayame stood arguing. The exchange was harsh, punctuated by the stiff, rigid posture of the monarch and the swift, tense gestures of the queen. The deep rumble of Ariston's voice vibrated through the flagstones, clashing against Ayame's cold, razor-sharp retorts.
Kairo watched them for a long second, his brow furrowing in confusion before a faint, melancholic smile touched his lips.
Right... I almost forgot about those fights.
It was a familiar dynamic, a quiet violence behind closed royal doors that usually ended in stifling silence. He let out a long breath, stretching his arms high above his head until his shoulders popped.
I miss them when they aren't like this, he thought, a familiar ache settling deep in his chest. I wish I could just see them happy... just once.
He pushed himself up off the grass. The air in the courtyard felt suffocating, heavy with unspoken tension and the lingering taste of ozone. He needed to get away. He needed a walk—somewhere far, somewhere peaceful—to scrub his mind clean of all the battles, the blood, and the constant, overwhelming noise.
Focusing his intent, Kairo tapped into his spatial ability. The air behind his shoulder rippled like disturbed water, emitting a faint, high-pitched hum as the space folded. Step by step, he blurred through the royal perimeter, slipping past the heavy iron gates and breaking out toward the tree line of the surrounding forest.
Behind him, the rustle of leaves and the faint, synchronized click of steel armor signaled his shadow. A group of elite royal guards was trailing him through the canopy.
Kairo didn't bother looking back. He ignored them, as he always did, letting out a weary exhale that misted in the damp forest air.
Yeah... no wonder I've been kidnapped so many times, he mused, stepping over a moss-covered root. No wonder they won't let me go anywhere alone.
He picked up his pace, taking the winding dirt paths that led away from the estate and toward the lower districts.
I wonder what my friends are doing right now...
His destination was the massive educational complex he had helped commission—a vast, multi-winged institution designed to accommodate scholars of all ages, from toddlers barely old enough to hold a quill to gray-haired cultivators in their eighties.
Why don't the ones who are hundreds of years old come here to study? Kairo wondered idly, watching a stray leaf flutter down onto his path. Maybe they're too busy trying to feed their hundreds of kids.
He sighed, the sheer monotony of the walk pressing down on him.
"Ugh, it's so boring right now..." he muttered under his breath.
What he wouldn't give for a single hour back home. Just to sit in front of a flickering screen and watch his favorite TV shows again. In this world, the only tether he had left to his past was the endless stack of books he summoned through his system.
I wish I could see how my old world is changing, he thought, his chest tightening with quiet nostalgic grief. It should be the year 2012 over there by now... Ugh, I wonder if the world really ended like everyone said it would?
After twenty minutes of steady walking through the quiet suburbs, the grand stone arches of the academy finally materialized through the morning mist.
"Ugh... I really wish I had my bicycle," Kairo complained to the empty air, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "I can even summon wind magic right now, and I'm still walking..."
He shook his head, muttering under his breath at his own absurdity. "This damn life... I wonder when I'll finally get to meet my friends again."
He stepped through the main wrought-iron gates of the university—and stopped dead in his tracks.
The wide cobblestone avenues were deserted. The central plaza, usually bustling with lectures, debate groups, and students sparring in the open rings, was dead silent. The heavy oak doors of the lecture halls were shut tight. Wind swept through the vacant archways, rustling dry leaves across the stone flagstones.
There wasn't a single soul in sight.
Kairo's eyes widened. "Guards!" he shouted, his voice echoing loudly against the hollow stone buildings. "Why are there no students here?!"
From the shadows of the arched walkway, a tall royal guard stepped forward, his dark cloak shifting to reveal the gleaming silver crest of the crown. He bowed his head slightly, his hand resting on the pommel of his sheath, but his posture remained unnaturally rigid.
"I cannot tell you about that, sire," the guard said, his voice low and measured.
Kairo rounded on him, his brow furrowing. "Why not?"
The guard raised his head, his exposed eyes sharp and deadly serious against the visor of his helm. "It is top secret. It is connected to the dream... the one you had."
Kairo froze, a sudden, cold prickle tracing down his spine. "About... the dream?"
"Yes," the royal guard replied, his tone chillingly calm. "The dream. It is something bizarre... something extraordinary. I am under strict orders not to reveal anything more to you."
Kairo stared at the guard for a long, silent moment. The quiet of the empty campus suddenly felt less like peace and more like an ominous, carefully constructed lie.
He let out a sharp, frustrated breath, turning his back on the guard and looking up at the looming, vacant towers of the school.
"Fine," Kairo muttered, his jaw setting tight. "I'll ask Father about it myself."
The soldier bowed his head, the polished plates of his collar chiming softly against his mail. "Very well, Prince. We will reveal what is happening across the land."
Kairo snapped to a halt on the deserted cobblestones, his eyes widening. "Okay, okay—tell me what's happening. I'm all ears."
The second guard, a towering veteran with scarred pauldrons, stepped forward, his leather boots squeaking against the dry stone. "Today is the big day of celebration. Have you forgotten about that?"
"Oh... sorry," Kairo muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as a dry wind rustled through the empty plaza. "I don't remember anything. There's no real calendar in this world."
"That is understandable, Sire," the first guard replied smoothly, though his gloved hands remained firmly resting on the pommel of his sword. "However, you must return to the palace immediately. Merchants and tourists from across the world are flooding into the city for this grand festival. You need to stay within the inner ward for now."
The scarred guard nodded, his voice dropping into a solemn, heavy cadence. "Yeah, Prince. Let's go home. It's an order directly from the King."
Kairo let out a long, defeated exhale, watching his breath vanish into the warm morning air. "Fine, fine. Let's go to the palace. My friends are probably too busy anyway..."
He turned toward the main thoroughfare, preparing for the long trek back, when the guard gestured toward the shadow of the arched gateway.
"Sir, please," the guard requested, offering a short bow. "Ride in your precious royal carriage."
Kairo glanced over to where a massive, obsidian-black carriage stood waiting, its gold-leaf trimmings gleaming coldly in the sun. Four heavy draft beasts pawed at the dirt, their harness chains clicking with a metallic rhythm. He climbed inside, sinking into the plush velvet cushions as the heavy wooden door shut with a muffled, airtight thud.
The carriage lurched forward. Kairo leaned his temple against the cool glass window, watching the empty streets blur past.
What is this new celebration? he thought, his brow furrowing as he tried to piece it together. I didn't know anything about it... Ugh, well, who cares? Let's just see what happens.
When the carriage finally pulled into the high-vaulted courtyard of the royal palace, the atmosphere felt unnaturally quiet. Kairo stepped down onto the marble flagstones, expecting the usual quiet hum of an ordinary morning. But as he pushed through the towering bronze doors and stepped into the grand hall, he froze.
Suspended across the vaulted ceiling was a massive, hand-woven banner. Emblazoned in shimmering gold thread, the letters practically glowed against the dark stone walls:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAIRO
Directly beneath his name, delicate silver embroidery spelled out: [13 YEARS OLD].
A rush of warmth flooded Kairo's chest, washing away the lingering dread of the morning. A breathless, ecstatic smile broke across his face.
"Wait... this is for me?!" he gasped, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Thank you so much!"
Overwhelmed with joy, he took off running toward the center of the hall. But in his excitement, his toe caught the edge of a thick Persian rug. He stumbled violently, skittering across the polished floor before landing flat on his stomach with a heavy, humiliating thump.
Gentle laughter erupted throughout the chamber—a warm, echoing chorus of amusement. To the gathered crowd of centuries-old nobles, generals, and archmagi, the young prince looked like nothing more than a clumsy three-year-old toddler tumbling over his own boots.
Kairo groaned softly, wincing as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He dusted off his sleeves, his face burning hot.
Kairo raised his head to look back at the banner.
The silver stitching was twisting. The cloth rippled like black water, the glowing thread dissolving and reforming right before his eyes. The numbers shifted, hardening into a stark, cold script:
Then, the ambient sound in the room died.
It wasn't a gradual fade—it was an abrupt, unnatural silence, as if the air itself had been sucked out of the room.
[16TH BIRTHDAY ANNIVERSARY]
Kairo stopped breathing. "Wait... is this a joke?"
He scrambled to his feet, turning around to face the crowd.
The people were different.
The young handmaidens who had been laughing just seconds ago now stood tall and mature, their features hardened by time. Sitting near the royal throne was Princess Aria—no longer a small child drifting off to sleep in her mother's arms, but a young girl with long, flowing hair and sharp, quiet eyes that looked right through him.
Beside her, his young companions stood tall, clad in heavy iron armor, their faces framed by thick, full beards and weathered scars.
A sudden, sharp weight tugged at Kairo's own jaw. He reached up, his fingers trembling as he scratched his cheek.
Coarse, rough facial hair brushed against his fingertips.
Kairo backed away a slow step, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird, his voice barely a whisper in the suffocating silence of the hall.
"This is truly bizarre..."