Nathan - POV

  I woke up with a clear objective in mind.

  Today, I was going to talk to Mother and Father about the system.

  No more putting it off. No more relying on secondhand explanations from Christine or vague hints from adults who thought I was too young to understand anything. I’d been patient... far more patient than a seven?year?old had any right to be... but that patience was wearing thin.

  I wanted answers. Real ones.

  With that determination burning in my chest, I headed to the dining hall for breakfast, already rehearsing how I’d bring it up. I’d wait until they were both seated, maybe after the first course. I’d be calm, respectful, but firm...

  And then my plan fell apart the moment I stepped into the room.

  Mother and Father’s seats at the head of the table were empty.

  Instead, I saw my siblings; Jack and Serena; already eating, along with Christine and Shive. A few maids moved quietly around the room, refilling cups and laying out dishes. The absence of my parents felt like a physical weight.

  I frowned and walked over to my usual seat. “Where are Mother and Father?”

  Serena didn’t even bother looking up. He was too busy attacking his food like it had personally offended him. “Mother went into the city,” he said around a mouthful of bread. “She’s looking for slaves that are craftsmen.”

  Jack, more composed, swallowed her bite before speaking. “Father went to the main temple. He’s paying respects to the High Priest.”

  Great. Mother was shopping, and Father was playing politics.

  So much for my grand plan.

  I sat down with a quiet sigh as a maid placed a plate in front of me. The food smelled good, but my appetite had already dulled. I poked at it absently, my mind racing. If I couldn’t talk to my parents now, I’d have to wait until tonight.

  Or… I could try the next best thing.

  Anda and the rest of his former party had years of experience as adventurers. They’d used the system, leveled up, fought monsters, and survived. If anyone could give me practical information, it would be them.

  At least, that was the idea.

  That plan was shot down before it even got off the ground.

  Anda and Belle were adamant... no, unyielding... about one thing: training came first. “Lectures will be done at a separate time,” Belle had said with a gentle smile that didn’t match the iron in her tone.

  In other words: shut up and train.

  I could only sigh and resign myself to it.

  Fine. Training it is.

  Being seven years old was starting to feel like a curse.

  I was getting impatient with growing up. I wanted to skip ahead; to fast?forward through the years like hitting a time?skip button in a game. One moment I’d be a child, the next I’d be a teenager with a body that could handle real training.

  Bah. If only.

  I wanted so badly to hone my body the way I had in my previous life; through the rigors of training back on Earth. I missed that feeling: the burn in my muscles, the exhaustion after a hard session, the satisfaction of pushing past my limits.

  But I knew I couldn’t do that now. Not in this body.

  This was still a child’s body. Fragile. Developing. If I pushed it too hard, I might damage my growth permanently. I understood that, logically and medically. It didn’t make it any less frustrating.

  I would wait until I reached puberty before starting serious physical training. Once my body began to mature, I’d gradually dial up the intensity year by year. Slow, controlled, and deliberate.

  In the meantime, I’d focus on knowledge, planning, and building my foundation.

  I would talk to Mother and Father about the system tonight.

  Besides, my “minions” will be returning to us soon. I could ask them about it too. The more perspectives I had, the better.

  After midday... noon, for an Earthling like me; a small opportunity presented itself.

  Jennie and Belle managed to convince Anda to stop my weapons training for the afternoon. Their argument was simple: I was missing too many of the magic lessons they conducted later in the day.

  Thank God he relented.

  If he hadn’t, the blisters on my hands would probably have ruptured from the constant use of those weapons. I could already feel the sting every time I tightened my grip on the practice sword.

  That afternoon, instead of swinging steel until my arms felt like jelly, I joined the others under a large tree in the training grounds. Its branches spread wide, casting a generous shade over the group. The air was warm but not oppressive, and the rustling leaves overhead gave the whole scene a strangely peaceful atmosphere.

  It almost felt like an outdoor classroom.

  Jennie and Belle stood at the front, facing us like teachers. The rest of us; Serena, Christine, Shive, and several other children and teenagers; sat or stood in a loose semicircle, listening. Although I didn’t know why a succubus was learning magic from a human. Maybe she is just bored.

  Anyways, they were teaching basic magic: Fireball, Ice Lance, and other fundamental spells. The kind of magic that formed the backbone of most combat casters in this world.

  The problem was, everything relied heavily on incantations.

  Long, structured phrases. Repeated words. Specific cadence. It was like watching someone try to code using only voice commands and poetry.

  Serena and Christine were paying close attention, their expressions serious. They mouthed the incantations silently, committing them to memory. The other kids and teens did the same, some more focused than others.

  I watched, arms crossed, feeling increasingly unimpressed.

  It all felt too long. Too inefficient. Too… clunky.

  My method was faster. Much faster.

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  But it came with a catch: you needed to understand physics, chemistry, and other sciences. I’d already taught Serena and Christine how to cast simple flames using chemistry and mana; no incantations required. Just willpower, oxygen, and a spark.

  My method worked by willing oxygen to accumulate in a specific area, then igniting it with mana. After that, you just kept feeding more oxygen into the flames to sustain and grow them.

  Simple in theory. Terrifyingly effective in practice.

  But making the flames hotter? Or freezing moisture in the air? That was a different level entirely. That required understanding the periodic table, molecular behavior, energy transfer; things no one in this world had the language for.

  Without that knowledge, they’d be fumbling in the dark.

  Basically, it was impossible for my sister Serena, my friend Christine, or any other human subordinates to manipulate the elements the way I did without a scientific foundation.

  I wanted to correct them. I wanted to raise my hand and say, “There’s a better way.”

  But I stopped myself.

  I figured it would be better for them to first have a solid foundation in this world’s way of casting magic. Once they understood the basics, I could slowly introduce them to physics and chemistry. Then they could tweak their spells for more efficient and devastating applications.

  As for me?

  I would have made an excellent mage. I knew that.

  But I wasn’t interested in being just a mage.

  I wanted the forbidden arts. The path of a warlock. The kind of class my avatars always took in the video games I loved back on Earth. Power with a price. Contracts. Pacts. Dangerous knowledge.

  That was the path that called to me.

  When I noticed Jennie was finally free from teaching one of the students, I seized the moment.

  “Master Jennie, can I ask you a question?” I said, walking up to her.

  She turned to me with a gentle smile. “Ah, Lord Nathan. Did you need clarification on some spell?”

  “Not exactly,” I said. “Master Jennie, I have some questions about the system. And leveling up.”

  Her expression shifted; surprise flickered across her face, then softened into something more thoughtful. She smiled sweetly at me.

  “Lord Nathan,” she said, “it is too early for you to level up. Usually, when a child turns fifteen; which is the age of adulthood; is when we accompany them for their first kill in a controlled environment. Although you already accessed your system years ahead of schedule, it is still unwise for a child to have his first ‘kill’ at such a young age.”

  “Why so?” I asked.

  “The mental toll on a child is not ideal,” she replied. “Either the child will be too scared to kill again, which will waste his or her potential… or the child will develop a bloodthirst for kills and levels. Both situations are not ideal.”

  She paused, then continued more slowly.

  “Although it is possible that a child will develop neither of those tendencies, the danger to the child’s mental state is simply too great to ignore. Hence, by both law and cultural practice, the ideal age for a child to perform his or her first kill is fifteen.”

  I understood exactly what she meant.

  PTSD or Hannibal Lecter.

  They were right on all counts. The risk was probable, even if not guaranteed. But still... fifteen?

  My grandfather had stormed the shores of Iwo Jima at sixteen. He turned out… well, “great” wasn’t the right word. But he survived. He lived. He functioned.

  Still, if this world had decided that fifteen was the safe age, then so be it.

  That, however, did not apply to me.

  “Yes, I understand,” I said. “But Christine mentioned something about a feeling. Something that tells you when you’re about to progress to the next level?”

  “Oh, that,” Jennie said, nodding. “That would be the feeling one gets when they are nearing a threshold to the next level. Many call it a feeling. Others say it’s like a bubble about to burst, while many say it is like opening a door. There is no single, clear description of knowing when you’re about to break through. You just… know it.”

  “I see,” I said. “So, it differs from individual to individual, right?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Although it differs from person to person, the individual always knows.”

  “But are there instances,” I pressed, “where the individual doesn’t know? Or has no feeling that he or she is about to break through?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “There are such instances, but they are very rare. There was a poem written two thousand years ago about such a person. In fact, it was about a Shaxaian king, before they became an empire. The poem said that he simply had no warning when he was about to break through. He just fought and fought.”

  “Oh? A Shaxaian king?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said. “I forgot the title of the poem. I suggest that you ask your parents about him. Maybe they know the exact details.”

  “I’ll do that tonight,” I said. “What about the level fifty threshold?”

  “Ah…” Her eyes brightened. “The Path of Transcendence. Lord Nathan, that is when someone breaks through and becomes a level fifty individual. It is then that the individual is offered by the system to evolve his or her class.”

  She continued, “For example, a warrior may become a true knight. I am referring to the system class, not the noble title.”

  “What is the difference between a knight and a true knight offered by the system?” I asked.

  “A lot,” she said. “You see, a level twenty warrior or a level forty?three warrior like Anda can be recognized by the powers that be in this world; like your father; for their skill and earn the title of knight, which is recognized by all kingdoms.”

  She lifted a finger.

  “A class evolution offered by the system, on the other hand, is miles more powerful in combat due to additional stats and skills. I know what your next question is: in a fight between a level forty?three warrior like Anda and, say, a level fifty true knight, the winner—by sheer stats and skills—would be the level fifty true knight.”

  She shrugged lightly.

  “Of course, there are several factors that might still allow a level forty?three warrior knight like Anda to win; wits, cunning, terrain, or simply luck. Still, it would be an uphill battle for Anda. That’s why whenever an individual with a melee combat class reaches level fifty, they may be awarded the noble title of knight by a lord or king.”

  “I see,” I said slowly. “So, one is basically a title, while the other embodies the ideal physical and skill attributes of a knight recognized by the system... the ideal true knight.”

  “That’s correct, young lord,” she said. “Take me, for example. I am a level forty healer. By the blessing of the gods, if I reach level fifty, I will be offered a class evolution.”

  “Evolve to what?” I asked.

  “That’s the thing, Lord Nathan,” she said. “There is no clear linear path. I could be offered to evolve into a cleric, a priest, or perhaps a monk, among others. I knew of a rogue who was offered not assassin or shadowblade, but a class totally unheard of.”

  “What’s the class?” I asked.

  “A Spook,” she said.

  I froze.

  I was flabbergasted.

  I knew what a Spook was.

  We’d worked with them several times when I was in Delta. They were covert operators who could slip into any nation, blending into any culture. They were involved in everything from assassinations to toppling regimes.

  The system was using terms from Earth.

  What the hell is going on?

  My shocked expression must have caught Jennie’s attention, because she tilted her head and asked, “You know what a Spook class is, Lord Nathan?”

  “Ah… yeah,” I said, scrambling for a cover story. “I read it once… back in the Slalenese Theocracy. Err… did your friend take that Spook evolution?”

  “No,” she said, laughing lightly. “It sounded fishy and… spooky.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed with her. It was a genuinely good pun.

  After our laughter died down, she leaned closer. “So, what was a Spook?”

  I smiled at her. “Your friend passed up something very powerful and unique.”

  “Wait… what? He did?” she said, eyes widening. “Come on, Lord Nathan, tell me.”

  “It’s a secret…” I teased.

  “You’re too young to be teasing people like that, you know,” she smirked.

  Our banter went on for a few more minutes before I finally relented and gave her a medieval?friendly explanation of what a Spook was; stripped of modern jargon, but close enough in spirit.

  She could only lament her friend’s loss of a very good class.

  By the time Jennie and I rejoined Serena, Christine, Shive, and the rest of the group, my mood had improved significantly.

  I was smiling.

  Because now, I had some kind of proof; flimsy as it was... that the system was also using knowledge from my world.

  Knowledge that I might be able to exploit. And that changed everything.