Morning came softly to Brightwood, bathing the little village in golden, slanted beams. In the Ashborne home, warmth from the low-burning hearth kept the dawn chill at bay. Kael awoke to a familiar hush—Mother's gentle footsteps, Father's subdued rummaging in his forging corner—and the peacefulness he'd begun to cherish in this new life. He was only six months old, physically incapable of speech or walking, yet his mind brimmed with the continuous march of his mana training.
Over a week had passed since Father's tense brush with the mana-infused wolf near the orchard. Since then, talk of strange beasts had only grown more widespread. Odd rumors drifted through the village: sightings of larger-than-normal boars, or a fleeting glimpse of luminous-eyed foxes at twilight. Kael absorbed every whisper quietly, mindful that even these minor events suggested Aurelia's magic-laced wilds were never fully dormant.
He wanted to be ready—not only to protect his family, but also to refine his budding dual-element synergy. In the preceding days, Kael's forays into Minor Air Channeling and Minor Fire Channeling had yielded promising results. Each success reminded him of the vast potential within his Omni-Element Physique. Yet, to remain covert, he had to keep his triumphs to unremarkable displays of infant babble or playful gestures. If his parents ever caught him conjuring real flames…
Well, for now, it was simpler to remain the curious child they believed him to be.
Setting the Day's Rhythm
The early sunlight painted swaths of gold across the hardwood floor as Mother busied herself by the cooking nook. Father, still sporting a faint scratch on his forearm from his wolf encounter, inspected a set of rusted hinges someone in town had brought for repair. Kael watched from the cradle, half-lidded eyes masking intense observation.
"Should only take me a day to fix these," Father muttered, turning a hinge in his callused hand. "The orchard folk still want stronger gates though. Not sure we can manage that without better iron stock."
Mother, stirring the porridge pot, nodded. "If the orchard families are serious about fortifying, we might need a fresh supply from Ironspur. Remember, Merrek comes next week with goods."
Father sighed, rotating his shoulder gingerly. "Aye, and if the roads remain safe enough. The talk of beasts… but yes, I'll handle it."
Kael's ears pricked at every mention of Ironspur. The seat of dwarven forging tradition, bustling with magitech as well—one day, he'd see it for himself. But for now, he was a watchful bystander, gleaning knowledge from stray conversations.
A Warm Breakfast, A Quiet Resolve
Mother eventually lifted Kael from his cradle and nestled him in her arms, bringing a small spoonful of lightly sweetened cereal to his lips. The morning routine had become familiar: eat, nap, observe, train. But Kael felt something shift within him. With each passing day, his mana control grew steadier, and an undercurrent of restlessness stirred his thoughts. He wanted to push further—test the synergy of Fire and Air, maybe even dabble in Earth if he dared.
Yet he also felt caution's tug: he had a physical body that was still frail and tiny. Overexerting himself might cause real harm. Moreover, any conspicuous phenomenon could worry his parents or, worse, invite suspicion from curious neighbors.
So he took in each spoonful quietly, giving an infant's satisfied murmur that concealed deeper musings.
After finishing breakfast, Mother set him on a patchwork blanket near the forge corner, where Father hammered away lightly on a piece of metal. It let Kael watch every spark, every shift in the heated iron. He recognized the swirl of Fire Mana that flickered in the coals, and he practiced, in secret, aligning his own mana sense with that flow. The crackle of flame against metal was as instructive as any lesson from a master.
Subtle Gains
A short while later, once Father finished that round of forging, Kael seized his usual private moment. Mother was outside collecting fresh water from the well, and Father rummaged in a tool chest to find the right file. The forging area was separated from Kael only by a few paces, but Father's focus was turned away.
Breathing evenly, Kael extended a hand, letting a meager wisp of Minor Fire Channeling emerge from his core. It manifested as a gentle warming sensation at his fingertips, invisible except to his heightened perception. Then, he coaxed Air Mana to swirl around that invisible heat, turning it into a fragile vortex of warm air.
He smiled inwardly, sensing how the elements merged with more grace than before. The synergy had improved.
[Notification: Minor Fire Channeling → Lv.2. Control Enhanced!]
A quiet flush of satisfaction coursed through him. His progress was tangible. At once, he felt the intangible swirl become more stable, and he dared to sustain it an extra heartbeat. However, the swirl threatened to produce a subtle shimmer of heat waves in the air—dangerous if Father glanced this way. Quickly, Kael ended the micro-experiment, letting the swirl dissipate.
He inhaled, feeling a faint tingle of exertion. No meltdown, no backlash—his unique advantage. He remembered the cautionary tales of Skill Dissonance from his past life. Another newborn or toddler with even a fraction of his attempts might have triggered alarming magical surges. Yet for him, all was well.
Curious Observations
Not long after, Mother returned, water sloshing in a bucket. She set it beside the hearth, then ruffled Kael's hair fondly. "You're such a quiet one today," she teased in a sing-song voice. "Already planning your mischief, I see?"
He responded with a bright-eyed coo, hiding how literal her words were. Father gave a small chuckle, stepping over to gather fresh coals. The day's forging resumed.
Kael resumed watch, half-lulled by the rhythmic clang, but never truly idle. He tested his senses again, scanning the subtle currents in the room. The interplay of Fire from the forge, Earth from the stone floor, even faint traces of Wind from the open window—he felt them all.
If he could harness them further, might he unlock a rudimentary Earth skill next? A twinge of ambition spurred him. But caution reigned: introducing a third element without mastering the synergy of the first two could risk mental strain or partial overload. Even he, with an Omni-Element Physique, believed in measured steps.
Midday Interruption
Around midday, the staccato sound of hurried footsteps crunched on the gravel outside. Father paused his hammering. Mother, setting aside the flour she was sifting, glanced to the door in mild concern.
A neighbor, Rowan, burst in, panting. "Joren—sorry to barge in. There's… trouble at the orchard again. Several orchard families heard snarls at dawn. Some livestock missing. Tracks leading deeper into the grove."
Father's face tightened. "You think it's the same wolf?"
Rowan's expression was grave. "Likely. Or a second one. They spotted deep claw marks on a fence post, fresh this morning. We're gathering a small party to investigate. Could… could you lend a hand again?"
Mother's worry flared in her eyes. She set a protective hand on Kael's cradle. But Father nodded, resolute. "Let me just get my spear and some supplies." He looked to Mother. "Eliana, I won't be long—but it's better we check quickly."
She pressed her lips together, uneasy, yet understanding. "Be safe," she whispered. Her gaze darted to Kael, silently praying for Father's safe return.
Kael, from his vantage, felt a ripple of concern. Another confrontation with that Earth-tinged wolf? Or a pack? He suppressed the instinctive urge to offer help, reminding himself he was still an infant in body. Even so, perhaps he could glean more about these beasts once Father returned with news.
Father Departs
Within minutes, Father had donned his leather vest again, spear strapped to his back. Rowan waited outside, shifting anxiously. They trotted off, leaving Mother and Kael alone in the hush that followed. She paced the room, eyes flicking to Kael with forced calm.
Kael, in turn, tried to maintain an air of contentment—cooing occasionally, as if oblivious. Inside, he recognized how fragile village life was. One or two heightened beasts, just a partial infusion of Earth or another element, posed real threats. Among typical villagers, only a handful possessed even minor magical skill. Father was adept with a spear, but if the wolf or its kin had grown stronger…
Kael's fists clenched reflexively around the edge of his blanket. He recalled how father's scratch had worried them all. Another such encounter, but with more hostility, might produce worse injuries.
He vowed silently to refine his magic further. Sooner or later, he wanted the ability to ensure no harm befell his parents. That resolve pushed him to keep training, to keep growing. Even as an infant, he refused to remain helpless.
Afternoon Anxiety
The day stretched long. Mother tried to distract herself with chores—mending a ripped cloak, scrubbing the floor, even reorganizing a few shelves near Father's forging area. Kael found himself lifted occasionally, placed in a safer spot while she rearranged items. From time to time, she would pause, glancing at the door as if expecting Father any moment.
When Father's return failed to materialize, Mother's tension deepened. She stoked the hearth unnecessarily, re-tied her hair, muttered quiet prayers to the local forest spirits. Kael did his best to remain calm in her arms, providing small infant smiles whenever she looked down in concern.
In truth, he, too, felt a simmer of worry. If the orchard group encountered more than a single wolf—say, a small pack touched by mana flows—would they manage? Memories from Aerion's past life conjured images of far grander battles, yet he recognized even a lesser magical beast could be lethal to untrained villagers. He was too small to intervene physically, so he settled for silent vigilance.
Sunset & a Visitor
As dusk edged in, footsteps sounded again outside. Mother rushed to the door, heart in her throat. But it wasn't Father. Instead, a man named Brant stepped in—a local farmer with worry etched into his face.
"Eliana," he greeted, nodding. His eyes flicked to Kael in her arms. "I've news. Joren's group found the wolf's lair deeper in the orchard. They cornered two beasts there—both with some kind of earthen glow. They fought them off… but Joren took a bad scratch along his side. Dorin is escorting him back soon."
She went pale. "How bad?"
Brant's voice softened. "He's bleeding, but… it should be treatable. Just deeper than last time. They asked me to come ahead, warn you. Prepare bandages, maybe some boiling water."
Mother's expression tightened with fear and resolve. "Thank you, Brant. I'll be ready."
He bowed his head, then hurried away to spread other messages. Mother placed Kael gently into the cradle, her hands trembling. Kael's heart pounded—though outwardly, he only wriggled, letting out a worried baby's whine. The orchard fight had been more perilous than the last.
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She gathered a shallow basin, clean cloth strips, and a small clay jar of medicinal salve. Each movement was tense but purposeful. Kael observed, trying to quell the swirl of concern that hammered in his own chest. He wanted so badly to help, to cast a healing flame or a protective shield. But his current mastery was too limited, and revealing advanced spells would upend everything.
Father's Return
Nightfall had nearly settled when Father finally arrived, leaning on Dorin's shoulder—a different Dorin from the story of Dorian Argent, simply a villager who shared that name. The man helped Father inside. Mother gasped at the sight of Father's torn vest, a deep scratch across his ribs, bleeding sluggishly. Kael's baby eyes widened at the harsh slash, flaring anger at the unknown creatures that dared harm him.
Father offered a tight grin through the pain. "I'm… all right," he managed. Then he winced. "Harder fight this time. The beasts were more cunning, it seemed. That earthen glow gave them extra durability."
Mother guided him to a bench near the hearth. She pressed a clean cloth to the wound, face pale as she wrestled with her nerves. Dorin explained in subdued tones, "We managed to kill one wolf. The other fled. We'll track it again if it returns. But Joren here refused to back down until we cornered them."
"Hmph," Father muttered, grimacing. "Couldn't let them roam free."
Mother cast him a sharp look, both proud and exasperated. She directed Dorin to help remove Father's vest so she could clean the wound. "Your bravado…" she whispered, voice catching, "We can't lose you."
Kael watched solemnly, feeling a fierce twinge in his chest. The man who had so lovingly raised him these six months was battered—and Kael, with all his hidden knowledge, could only watch.
A Necessary Tending
Over the next hour, Mother tended Father's injury. Dorin fetched fresh water, while Kael remained quietly in the cradle, absorbing every detail. The wound, while not mortal, bled enough to leave Father pale. Mother pressed salve into the gash, tears glistening but refusing to fall.
Eventually, Father's breathing steadied, though he hissed in pain whenever the cloth pressed too firmly. "The orchard folk… are safe?" he asked Dorin.
The man nodded. "Yes, Joren. The second wolf fled far. We suspect it might not return soon— lost its mate, presumably. If it does, we'll be ready with more watchers."
A tired nod from Father. Then, as if recalling Kael, he turned his gaze to the cradle. "Sorry, little one, if I worried you."
Kael tried to respond with a small baby noise, half-cry, half-relief. Inwardly, relief washed over him, but so did frustration at his own inaction. Once again, he vowed to intensify his secret training. If these minor threats taxed Father so deeply, what if a greater danger arose—like real magical beasts, or worse, demons, in the future?
Night's Silent Resolve
Dorin soon departed, leaving the family alone. Father, exhausted, slumped onto a straw mattress that Mother prepared near the hearth for easier rest. She insisted on monitoring him through the night. Kael found himself gently lifted and set near Father's side, as if mother wanted them close to keep watch on both.
The hush of nighttime settled. Father dozed fitfully, a pained furrow between his brows. Mother dozed upright, leaning against the wall, ready to wake at any sign of trouble. Kael drifted in and out of baby-sleep, each doze punctuated by a swirl of uneasy thought.
He recalled how, in his past life as Aerion, he had marched against monstrous threats far beyond feral wolves. Yet in this humble new life, even a single beast was enough to endanger his father—someone dear to him. Did not that underscore how precious early power was?
The forge's embers dimmed, casting the room in flickering shadows. At one point, Kael found himself half-awake, mother's gentle humming lulling Father's restless sleep. In that quiet moment, Kael clenched his tiny fist.
He pictured the synergy of Fire and Air, mentally forging a faint vision of swirling flame that might, one day, become a protective shield. If he could harness it into a genuine defensive skill, perhaps next time, Father needn't face claws alone.
Midnight Contemplation
Hours later, well after midnight, Kael roused from a light doze. Father was breathing more regularly, though a faint sheen of sweat clung to his brow. Mother lay half-curled nearby, eyes closed in exhaustion. The entire home was silent except for the popping of a dying ember.
Careful not to stir, Kael let his mind drift inward. He guided a gentle swirl of mana from his center, recalling the synergy exercises he'd been refining. A delicate thread of Air Mana embraced a tiny spark of Fire. Together, they formed an intangible swirl just above his palm—purely mental, no visible glow. He fed it gradually, testing how stable it could get before the swirl started to wobble. Then he guided it to coil around an imaginary protective shape.
[Notification: +1 Spirit Through Focused Practice!]
A muted warmth coursed through him, confirming a slight expansion of his mana capacity. He savored the incremental growth. Even a single point in Spirit or an additional skill level could be the difference if a crisis struck. With a newborn's body, he needed every advantage.
The swirl flickered in his mind's eye, stable for perhaps half a minute. Then, with a soft release of breath, he let it dissolve before any outward sign manifested. He glanced at Father's slumbering form—still pained, but alive.
One day, Kael thought, I'll protect you, just as you've shielded me from life's hardships.
Dawn's Subtle Shifts
By the time the first rays of sunlight crept into the hut, Father was stirring. The bandage Mother had applied showed no fresh blood, indicating the bleeding had slowed. Though he winced in pain, he was well enough to offer a weak smile to Kael. "Morning, little one. Sorry to worry you last night."
Mother woke soon after, immediately checking his bandage. Relief filled her eyes to see the wound beginning to clot. "We'll keep it clean and wrapped," she said softly, "and you'll be fine."
She then turned to Kael, lifting him with gentle arms. "And you, always so calm. Did you sleep well?" She bestowed a tender kiss on his forehead. Kael responded with a sweet baby sound, inwardly steeled by fresh resolve.
Breakfast was a subdued affair. Father tried to stand but soon lowered himself back down with a grimace, deciding to let his side heal. Mother insisted on handling the day's chores alone, leaving father to rest. She prepared a simple meal of leftover oat mash and a few slices of cheese.
Kael observed each subtle expression Father made, grateful that the worst of the crisis had passed. But he also noted how the orchard threat still hung overhead. The second wolf was unaccounted for. The orchard folk might require more help if the beast returned. Kael's sense of tension lingered.
A Quiet Visit
Late morning brought a knock at the door. Mother opened it carefully, revealing an older woman named Hanna, a neighbor known for her herbal knowledge. She clutched a small pouch of dried leaves. "I heard about Joren's wound," Hanna said kindly. "Thought I'd bring something that might ease pain or reduce infection."
Mother thanked her profusely, inviting her in. Hanna approached Father with a grandmotherly concern, examining the bandage from a distance. "You'll mend," she declared. "But you must rest a few days. No forging," she added pointedly, wagging a finger at him.
Father managed a chuckle, though his face paled slightly when he shifted position. "I'll… abide. Thank you, Hanna."
She smiled, then turned to regard Kael, who was lying on a padded blanket near Father's bench. "My, how quiet he is. Usually babes wail for attention, but not this one."
Mother offered a soft laugh. "He's a calm one, for sure. Observant. Sometimes I swear he's… thinking more than a child should."
Hanna nodded. "A sign of a sharp mind, perhaps. Blessings on him." She rummaged in her pouch, pulling out a pinch of herbs. "Steep these in warm water. Dab the infusion on Joren's wound thrice a day."
With that, she left, her footsteps retreating down the lane. Mother and Father exchanged grateful looks. Kael, in turn, considered the mention of herbal knowledge—another avenue in which mana could amplify or complement mundane treatments. Perhaps, in time, he could incorporate mild healing spells into daily life. Even if he had to remain discreet, a subtle skill might safeguard them from future harm.
Afternoon Resolutions
As the day wore on, Father dozed in and out. Mother heated water, soaked the herbs, and gently pressed the infusion around his wound. Kael remained in his cradle or on a cushion, periodically entertaining himself by rolling a wooden toy Father had carved him. It was shaped like a miniature hammer, ironically apt for a blacksmith's child.
Yet behind these mundane moments, Kael's mind churned. He practiced small expansions of Minor Fire Channelingwhenever no one watched, scanning for any subtle leaps in skill. He tried weaving a faint breeze around the toy to push it across the floor—another quiet test of Minor Air Channeling.
At one point:
[Notification: +1 Agility Through Subtle Air Control Practice!]
A tiny pulse of heightened coordination coursed through him. That felt new. Over time, these attribute increments would accumulate. Already, he could sense that his baby limbs responded more nimbly than weeks prior—though outwardly, it was just a baby's random kicks.
He kept the swirl short, lest Mother or Father notice the toy rolling in an unexplainable manner. The disguise had to hold.
Quiet Conversation
Mid-afternoon, Father roused again, eyes sharper than earlier. Mother fussed over him, pressing a cup of cooled herbal tea to his lips. He drank slowly, then cleared his throat.
"Eliana," he said gently, "I know you'd prefer I stayed away from orchard patrols now. But if the beast returns…"
She pressed her hands over his, eyes filling with worry. "We can't keep risking you. Next time, gather more villagers. Or request help from that traveling mage who visits occasionally." She glanced at Kael, her expression pained. "We have a family to think about."
Father nodded, guilt flickering in his gaze. "I'll be more careful."
Kael absorbed every word. It struck him that villagers had so few options for dealing with magical threats beyond forming rudimentary hunting parties. They lacked advanced spells or a formal militia. Perhaps in other towns, specialized squads existed, but not in a humble place like Brightwood.
One day, if he chose to reveal his powers or join an official group, he might shift that balance. But for now, secrecy was paramount. A part of him yearned for a future where he could openly defend them.
Subtle Shifts in Routine
With Father confined, the forging corner remained cool all afternoon. Mother spent that time tidying and occasionally stepping outside to gather small fish from a neighbor who fished at the stream. Kael used each unguarded moment to refine a fraction of his control over Air and Fire.
He repeated a pattern:
Draw a faint thread of Fire from the lingering heat in the hearth's coals.Overlay a gentle swirl of Air around it, controlling the temperature spread.Visualize binding them together into something akin to a small protective swirl.
No real spells formed yet—just training.
At one point, he attempted a slightly bolder step: focusing the swirl at the tip of his index finger, hoping to form a slight heat wave in the air. He imagined it like a micro-lantern effect, enough to lighten the gloom. But the effect was too faint to produce visible light. Instead, the air shimmered.
Satisfied with the incremental progress, he let it dissipate.
Evening's Calm
By sunset, Father's face looked less drawn, though he still moved gingerly. Mother prepared a simple fish stew, ladling a portion into a bowl for Father's meal. Kael had his own feeding: mashed vegetables with some soft bread, which he accepted quietly.
He felt Mother's tension gradually easing, replaced by relief that Father was mending. Father was already able to shift upright without gasping. They conversed in low voices about orchard updates, how Rowan and others planned more watch patrols. No immediate second expedition was needed. The battered group from the day before would rest.
Kael listened, storing the knowledge for context. The orchard was essentially safe for now, but the village as a whole recognized the rising frequency of minor but potent magical creatures. This subtle escalation of magical fauna hinted at broader changes in Aurelia's mana flows—or maybe it was an anomaly. Kael's instincts told him otherwise: the world was shifting, and these small events were harbingers of bigger storms.
Nightfall Reflection
When darkness settled again, the family huddled around the dim hearth. Father dozed, propped by pillows. Mother rocked Kael in her lap, humming a lullaby. The melody soothed him, but his mind flickered back to the day's revelations: Father's fresh wound, the orchard's troubles, his own incremental training.
He felt the swirl of Fire and Air swirling in his mind as if it were second nature now. If adversity struck in the future—demonic infiltration, monstrous raids, or deeper conspiracies—Kael wanted to ensure neither Father nor Mother faced danger alone.
He peeked at his Status Window with a fleeting mental command, remembering how it first manifested around chapter 3. The golden text unfurled within his thoughts:
Status Window
Name: Kael Ashborne
Talent: SSS (Hidden)
Age: ~6 Months Old
Core Grade: Unawakened
Physique: Omni-Element Physique (Sealed)
Level: 1
Strength: 3
Intelligence: 10
Spirit: 11 (recently increased)
Agility: 3 (recently increased)
Constitution: 3
Skills:
Mana Sense (Novice, Lv.2)Minor Air Channeling (Novice, Lv.5)Minor Fire Channeling (Novice, Lv.2)
He noted the incremental changes—Spirit now 11, Agility now 3 (up from 2). Such small gains, but each milestone chipped away at the limitations of infancy. He saw no brand-new skill unlocks since Minor Fire Channeling, yet he suspected that if he kept experimenting, more would follow.
One day, he told himself again. I'll ensure I'm strong enough.
Mother's lullaby softened, then quieted as she glimpsed Kael drifting into a doze. She pressed a gentle hand to Father's forehead, verifying he had no fever. Reassured, she leaned back, letting exhaustion claim her as well.
The Unspoken Goal
In the final hush before true sleep, Kael's mind drifted through half-lucid visions—flickers of forging steel, swirling flames, and the ephemeral silhouette of a wolf with glowing green eyes. The orchard scare had hammered home a simple truth: Aurelia's wild corners held threats that dwarfed the typical villager's ability to cope. If more beasts emerged, or if enemies more cunning than mere wolves threatened this peaceful life, who would stand firm?
He remembered Aerion's vow from a past life: to protect those he cared for, no matter the cost. That vow had survived rebirth, finding new purpose in the arms of this humble blacksmith's family.
Tomorrow, he resolved, would bring fresh training, fresh experiments—and one step closer to forging a shield no wolf or demon could ever breach.
With that final determination in mind, Kael slipped into deep slumber, lulled by Mother's warmth, Father's steady breath, and the forging embers' faint glow. The next dawn would come, and with it, fresh challenges and incremental progress. He would be ready.