I was four years old now - meaning I had procrastinated sword training long enough. I was already a 6 Star mage, putting me above the average adult in my mana proficiency. But mana had never been the topic that I was concerned about - no, that had always been sword training. It's not like I was bad with the sword in my past life - far from it. I was within the top three swordsmen of my time. However, swordsmanship had still always been my weakest point - meaning it was the only thing I wasn't the absolute best on the planet at.

I had a plan, but it was risky. But as far as I could tell, it was my only option for now. So, I didn't have much of a choice.

I had recently stopped sneaking around the house at night, as I could mostly accomplish all I needed to during the day. But unluckily for me, that peace was about to end. I once again performed the same routine of sneaking away from the sleeping bag's clutches, before ending up by the window once again. I stood on the crate, being able to see over the rim of the windowsill at my current age.

"This is the only way..." I quietly reassured myself, before I slowly climbed out of the window, meeting fresh air for the first time since my birth. It felt rather euphoric, really; the unfiltered moonlight meeting my skin, as I slowly breathed the crisp winter air in and out - all the while, the deafening sound of silence caressed my ears like a sweet melody. I didn't have any shoes, which, under normal circumstances, would've made the entire experience unbelievably painful, but luckily I had had the thought beforehand to cast a temporary body reinforcement spell on myself - giving my feet the same toughness as any shoes.

I took a breath and began sneaking around. I didn't know why exactly I was sneaking instead of just walking, but I suppose it's just because it all felt like I was doing something I wasn't supposed to. I wasn't used to having this type of childlike curiosity and instinct, but I suppose being a child physically did truly have an affect on my brain.

I snuck around, making sure to keep a mental map of every corner I took, before I found myself blocked by a fence - dead-end. Just as I was about to turn around to look for my target elsewhere, I saw something approaching me. At first, I had assumed it to be some kind of mana creature that had managed to sneak into the city past the knights at the gate, but after he got a little closer I saw that it was just a drunk man. Deciding to ignore him, I walked past him, putting on the most refined walk I could.

However, as I past the man, he glanced down at me a little, before an insane gleeful grin spread across his face. He cracked up slightly, before grabbing my shoulder, preventing me from passing him any more than I already had. As soon as he flipped me around to face him, he examined me closer - not physically, but I could tell he was mentally. He seemed to only focus his gaze on my neck. At first I was confused, before I remembered - my crest.

He threw his face uncomfortably close to mine, before spitting at me, "Mind telling me what a grey like you's doing here?"

"Simply passing through..." I instantly replied, making sure to never look him in the eye. I had half a mind to kill the dude here and now for using that term. It probably shouldn't have affected me as much as it did, but constantly being referred to by it made me furious - almost unbelievably so for me. Plus, I knew that I had to kill someone tonight. But after checking his belt and realizing that he had nothing on him, I decided against it - holding myself back.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Well, I'd prefer it if you weren't 'passing through', ya hear me? Greys like you are only good as slaves." He slurred at me, pushing my chest slightly, presumably hoping to knock me over.

Of course, I remained upright, before responding to him, "Well sir, if you let me go, then I'm sure you'd realize that I'm trying to leave - you're the one keeping me here."

His face creased slightly in anger, before he threw me to the ground, using his superior stature as an adult. "You think you're a fucking smartass do ya?! Where're your fucking parents, huh slave?! I wanna know what the fuck type of fucked up woman would produce something like you?!"

...

"What did you just say?"

"Hah, what?! Are you deaf now, too?! I said that I wanted to meet whatever type of bitch would choose to keep something like you!"

I rose to my feet.

"Good. So I don't have to feel any guilt about killing you now, do I?"

This was a technique I had been working on since my last life. It was what I called an adaptive technique - meaning it could be used by any mage all the way from 2 Star to Infinite Star, the only difference being the power it would produce. It was called 'Final Flame' - and it was one of the strongest uses of mana in all of history, only being beat by a few of my other techniques. I pointed out a single one of my fingers. On the end of my fingertip began forming a small flame. There was something odd about the flame clear to any who viewed it, though - instead of being a beautiful red-orange combination, it was instead an entrancing pure white.

The drunkard panicked slightly, shouting at me in a tone of pure disbelief, "W- WAIT! WHAT?! NO WAY! YOU CAN'T HAVE ALREADY AWAKENED A MANA POOL!"

"Oh, but I have. In fact, I'm already a King-tier mage."

"N- No... THERE'S ABSOLUTELY NO WAY THAT'S TRUE! THAT'D MAKE A FUCKING GREY THE YOUNGEST MAGE IN HISTORY!"

"Ooh, seems like you know your history! Good, because otherwise I'd have to go through the process of explaining why I'm so impressive. Anyway, die."

I lifted my pointed finger, preparing to shoot the flame at him, like a bullet. It was unfortunate that I had to use the spell this way, as the way it's meant to be used is that the flame should expand and expand until it consumes the target - it's much more effective that way. But I suppose shooting it will have to do.

"PLEASE! I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WANT! TELL ME WHAT EXACT PART OF WHAT I SAID PISSED YOU OFF, AND I'LL COMPENSATE IN ANY WAY I CAN!"

Hmm... what was it that actually pissed me off? I suppose it was when he insulted my mother. But... why? Don't tell me I actually care for her. If I did that'd probably become such a hassle. Oh, well. I didn't really care why I was angry, all I knew is that I was angry - and I needed to do something about it.

Seeing that his plea didn't work, the drunkard switched his tactic to guilt tripping. "PLEASE! I HAVE A SON AND WIFE BACK HOME!"

I let whatever came to mind roll off my tongue, "Cool. If you manage to get in any last message to them in the afterlife, tell them that I expect compensation for the act of community service I'm doing here today."

Finally, the flame shot from my index finger tip, piercing through his throat. I then loaded up more on all of my other fingers, before firing those into his still standing corpse as well. Holes littered the stain that was his body, before the lifeless corpse fell to the blood-soaked stone beneath him, dead.