I stood in the middle of the room, my legs spread wide, weight balanced on the balls of my feet. My fists, small and clenched, hovered high in front of my soft, cherubic face. “One, two,” I muttered under my breath, my voice low and focused. With deliberate effort, I shot out two jabs into the empty air before pivoting sharply to my left. “One, two,” I repeated, each strike accompanied by the faint hiss of exhaled breath. My movements were slow and unrefined, but I was improving—or so I told myself.

“What are you doing?” gub's voice cut through the air, his dog nose crinkling in confusion. His tail swished lazily as he tilted his head, ears twitching. It had been two weeks since he came to see me I wonder what he's been doing.

“Training, clearly.” I didn’t stop moving, circling the imaginary opponent in my head. My muscles burned, but the sensation was invigorating. Each jab brought a thrill of satisfaction as I imagined landing punches against some invisible foe. My soul core wasn’t fully formed yet, but its effects were undeniable. My baby bones felt stronger, sturdier, and my body had started to stretch with a incoming growth spurt. For once, my limbs felt like they were working with me, not against me.

Gub sat back on his haunches, watching me with a mixture of curiosity and exasperation.

The first few days of my new training, gub did nothing but watch, his eyes fixed on me like I was some bizarre animal performing for his amusement. Clara had disappeared shortly after I got the system, clearly unnerved after witnessing what could only be described as a "seizure." She left the manor on sudden vacation leave, citing “family reasons.” Her voice had wavered when she explained it to my parents, and though they had their doubts, they let her go.

Meanwhile, I began working out and starting my martial art training, which was easier without a maid constantly watching me, I threw slow, deliberate punches into the still air. My form was unpolished—sloppy, even—but I improved when I focused on technique over speed. “One, two,” I repeated, each jab punctuated by a shuffle of my feet. My arms moved like molasses, but I was having the time of my life.

In my past life as Kai, I’d always dreamed of doing this, of pushing my body to its limits in pursuit of something greater. That dream had been snuffed out by circumstance, by the unrelenting weight of reality. But now? Now I had a second chance, a body that could grow stronger. “One, two,” I murmured, my final jab snapping forward with more speed than I’d expected.

Exhaustion hit me like a wall. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor, sprawled on my back. My breath came in shallow gasps, sweat clinging to my brow. Gub was nowhere to be found, which was strange but not unusual. He had a tendency to disappear, slipping off to some unknown place when I wasn’t paying attention. I’d asked him once where he went. His response had been silence—a silence so heavy it felt deliberate, as though something, somewhere, was stopping him from answering.

Whatever. It didn’t matter right now. My arms felt like lead, my chest heaved, and all I wanted was a moment’s peace.

Then, the familiar chime of a system notification echoed in my mind. Ding! I groaned, pressing the back of my hand to my forehead as I squinted against the glowing message that materialized before me.

System Notifications:

Basic Movement Skill: Level 1 → Level 2

You have improved balance with your feet and better hand-eye coordination. This level-up is extremely underwhelming, but keep going at it, and you may not have to look at your feet when you walk soon.

Skill Unlocked:

Basic Shadow Boxing: Level 1

The ability to shadowbox was a must for the greats like Mike Tyson and Muhammad Ali. Not that you’ll ever be like them, but hey, guess you can try.

"Yes!" I leveled up a skill and got a new one at the same time! My arms still ached, my back stuck to the floor with sweat, and my legs felt like jelly. But even through the fatigue, I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. Everything felt like it was crushing me lately, I was beginning to believe I'd never make progress, But this was proof that I was moving forward. Proof that I could do something if I tried hard enough I could survive

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

The nursery door creaked open, and I scrambled to my feet, wobbling a little as I wiped sweat off my flushed face with the sleeve of my baby onesie. Standing in the doorway was Lady Valdris, my mother, looking like she had just stepped out of an oil painting. Her smile was warm, and her simple pink dress, with delicate embroidery at the hem, clung just right to her slender frame, complementing her porcelain complexion. She carried a basket of pastries, the faint aroma of butter and sugar wafting through the room.

“Daddy’s a little anxious right now, so how about we go on an adventure?” her voice light and melodic. With a hint of uncharacteristic annoyance.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why Count Valdris was anxious. Those alliances he’d bragged about during my birthday last month were already crumbling like stale bread. The family’s main source of income—their expertly crafted runes—was quickly becoming obsolete thanks to artificial rune presses. Sure, the artificial runes were weaker, but they were cheaper and produced faster, and the world always loves a bargain. Our wealth and status were plummeting faster than I could count.

“Okay, Mommy,” I replied, the word tasting strange on my tongue. Cringing inwardly, I reminded myself I was stuck in this baby body for now. Calling someone “Mommy” as a grown man was something I’d never get used to, no matter how angelic she looked.

My mother beamed, an expression so radiant it almost made me forget my internal shame. “Oh, my sweet little boy,” she cooed, kneeling to dress me.

I endured the ordeal, standing still as she bundled me up in a simple but snug outfit—a pair of tiny trousers, a cotton shirt, and a sweater. She wrapped a scarf around my neck with the efficiency of someone who’d been mothering for years, finishing it off with a pair of baby boots that clicked adorably against the floorboards when I walked.

Before I knew it, we were walking downhill from the manor. The cold kissed my cheeks with sharp little bites, and I buried my face into the scarf for warmth. The manor loomed behind us, a hulking gothic structure with pointed spires that pierced the gray winter sky. Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys, blending with the frosty air.

“You look so cute in your little boots, Ciro,” my mother cooed again, looking over her shoulder with a grin that made my cheeks heat up.

“Ugh,” I mumbled, trying to bury my face further into the scarf. In my past life, compliments from beautiful women were as rare as a solar eclipse. Now, I was getting them left and right—from my mom, no less. Life was strange.

The town came into view as we reached the bottom of the hill. Despite the cold, it was bustling. Cobblestone streets bustled with people, carts loaded with goods, and shopkeepers shouting about their wares. Banners fluttered in the icy breeze, suggesting some sort of festival was underway. It was amazing, was this how it felt to explore? To not be confined to one room for your entire life, at that moment I made a promise to myself, I will experience everything this world has to offer.

“Good evening, Lady Valdris,” townsfolk greeted my mother with polite bows before scurrying back to their tasks. She returned their greetings with a gracious nod, the faintest smile playing on her lips.

We made our way to a large house by the river. It stood apart from the other buildings, its whitewashed walls and dark timber beams giving it a stately yet cozy charm. My mother knocked sharply on the door. “Rebecca! Come on, Rebecca, it’s freezing out here!”

The forcefulness of her tone startled me. I flinched, unused to hearing her yell. From behind the door came the clinking and clattering of far too many locks being undone, one by one, until finally, the door swung open, and a gust of icy wind swept through.

“For the Lord’s mercy, Elizabeth, you don’t have to bang like that!” Rebecca scolded as she opened the door. She was a stout woman with wild, dirty-blonde hair pulled into a loose bun. Her cheeks were red from either the cold or perpetual irritation.

My mother swept past her, unfazed. “You really need to ease up on the locks, Rebecca. No one’s stolen from your shop in almost a decade.”

Rebecca huffed, following her inside. “It happened once, and I won’t let it happen again! Do you know how hard it was to get good fish during winter?”

The house smelled of wood smoke and faintly of dried herbs. The front room was a mix of homey and practical, with a large stone hearth dominating one wall and shelves lined with jars, trinkets, and books. It didn’t take long to realize this was both a home and a shop.

Rebecca poured wine into a glass, muttering, “And you really need to start bringing your own liquor, Elizabeth. Last time you drank all of Bob’s whiskey, and he was grumpy for a whole month.”

My mother sank into a chair by the fire with a sigh so deep it sounded like her soul had just exhaled. “Bob can suck it!” she declared with a laugh—a full, hearty laugh that sent me reeling. I’d never heard her laugh like that before. It wasn’t the refined, polite giggle she usually allowed herself but something raw.

Rebecca raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she picked through the pastries in my mother’s basket. “You spoil me,” she muttered between bites, her gruff tone betraying a hint of affection.

“Also you know Erin doesn't allow alcohol in the house, it might actually make him fun and he can't have that." my mother added, downing the glass of wine in one gulp. A purple stain dripped down her chin like a tear. “Lord I don't even remember the last time we had-”

“Elizabeth! We have kids around!” Rebecca hissed, cutting her off with a sharp glare.

My mother froze, her eyes finally landing on me as if she’d forgotten I was there, the moment her back side touched the comfy chair. “Oh, right. Ciro, go play with Julia. She’s an absolute sweetheart; you’ll love her.”

Rebecca nodded toward the hallway, where a little girl peeked out from behind the corner. She looked eerily like her mother, with dirty blonde hair, brown eyes, and slightly tanned skin. Something was unsettling about her, though. Her expression was blank, her stare unblinking, like one of those creepy ghost kids in a horror movie.

I shot my mother a pleading look, but she was already deep into her third drink, trading stories about husbands. Sighing, I accepted my fate and followed Julia into her room.