Time flowed like water while Temorsth immersed himself in the abstract theories of magic and manual mana manipulation.
Before he knew it, the forest outside had bloomed anew and shed its leaves, marking his first birthday in this world.
"Son, I know how eager you are," Xalier said, looking down at his one-year-old child with a mixture of pride and caution. "But we should wait for one or two more years."
"But... Dad, you promised you would teach me," Temorsth protested, his toddler voice high but firm.
"I did," Xalier replied gently, placing a massive, leather-gloved hand on the boy's shoulder. "And I will. But even though your talent for conducting Mana is unprecedented, your physical body simply cannot cope yet with your internal strength. If we push too hard, you'll break."
Temorsth looked away, letting out a soft hiss of frustration. He knew his father only wanted to protect him, so despite his intense dissatisfaction, he swallowed his arguments.
'Fine... I'll wait a little longer,' he thought. He still had time. The ticking clock of his six-year deadline was loud, but he couldn't afford to destroy his foundation before he even started.
"It's almost here... the day is almost here!"
As his second birthday approached, Temorsth could barely contain his excitement. Xalier had finally given in, promising that the moment he turned two, his basic martial arts and weapons training would begin.
Because of the dense ambient mana flooding his daily life, Temorsth's physical development had completely bypassed the standards of his original world, even this one's.
Though he was turning two, he easily possessed the height, coordination, and presence of a four-year-old child.
His parents certainly noticed how unnaturally fast he was growing. However, they reasoned it was a natural side effect of being born with a fully awakened mana at nine months old—an anomaly so rare that even their vast royal libraries had little data on it.
Pregnancies are usually dragged out for years to let the body, mind, and soul get full acustumed to all forms of energy. They had wished to avoid the outcome of possessing opposing energies... so they "rushed" to the minimum acceptable development, yet it failed.
Temorsth was born with mana and their energies already manifested... now anything that came was mostly unexpected.
Ultimately, they didn't care. It didn't matter how quickly he grew; he was their son, if he was healthy, that was all that mattered.
On the morning of his birthday, Xalier led him into the central courtyard of the sycamore estate. Hidden behind his back was a slender, beautifully carved object. With a proud smile, Xalier presented it to him.
It was a wooden training sword.
The moment Temorsth's small fingers wrapped around the smooth hilt, a familiar blue translucent window materialized before his eyes.
'Weapon status...?' he called out in his mind.
[Name: The Child's Sword (Twin)]
[Rank: Mortal]
[Rarity: Unique]
[Attack Power: 783] [Defense: 311]
[Durability: 446/446]
[Element: None]
[Bonus Stats: +1 Strength, +1 Agility, +2 Vitality]
[Attunement Requirement: Must be equipped by a 'Student']
[Description: A short training sword made entirely of rare heartwood. It was crafted with the singular intent of teaching a child the path of the blade.]
[Story: Expand...] [Skills: Expand...]
'Wow...' Temorsth marveled internally. This was the first time he had ever seen the full status profile of an inanimate object.
His mind raced with questions, but the hidden tabs at the bottom immediately snatched his attention. 'Aidana, what is this Story tab?'
[Some weapons possess a unique narrative,] Aidana's voice echoed in his mind, smooth and informative.
[The greater, more famous, or more emotionally significant a story is, the stronger the item will become.]
[Stories are entirely independent of initial Ranks or Rarities. A Legendary weapon can exist without a single line of story, but if an item's narrative deepens, it can and will force the weapon to ascend its Rank and Rarity permanently.]
'An evolving weapon system...' Temorsth's eyes gleamed. 'That's incredible.'
He focused his intent on the first tab.
[Story: An exceptional father hand-carved this variant of a common practice blade after weeks of watching his son's unabated excitement.
It has been balanced perfectly to fit a small, developing body—a physical manifestation of a father's profound love and protection.
A twin to this blade was forged simultaneously by the father's hands, representing his sacred desire to guide his child's path.]
"Do you like it?" Xalier asked, his deep voice carrying a rare, nervous tremor. He stood perfectly still, anxiously awaiting his son's reaction.
Temorsth snapped out of the interface, looking up at the imposing Vampire King with a radiant, genuine smile. "Yes! Yes, I love it so much! Thank you, Dad!"
As he spoke, he tapped the second tab with his mind.
[Skills:]
[Desires for Learning (Passive): Any physical activity performed under the context of training or learning will grant a small, permanent bonus to Experience gain, Skill Proficiency, and Mastery-type abilities.]
[The Father's Sword (Passive): Any martial movement or stance demonstrated by the creator's twin blade within the last hour will be vastly easier for the user to visually deconstruct, mimic, and master.]
'This is absurdly powerful,' Temorsth thought, his heart pounding with thrill. 'My life in this world... It's giving me everything I need to survive. It's so much more forgiving than the hell I left behind.'
His internal monologue shattered as a sudden ripple in the air caught his eye. An identical wooden sword—scaled up perfectly to fit a grown warrior—materialized out of thin air into Xalier's leather glove.
"Then... can we start, Dad?"
"If you are ready," Xalier smirked, his eyes flashing red.
"Yes! Let's start right now!"
From that day forward, Temorsth's world became a relentless crucible of growth.
While his father drilled him in the fundamental masteries of the blade, his mother balanced his schedule by flooding his mind with advanced magical arts.
Because Xalier strictly forbade him from using internal aura or mana to lighten his burdens during physical training, Temorsth had to rely purely on raw physical effort.
Within months, his small frame began to develop lean, dense muscle fibers—a terrifyingly unnatural physique for a child already not appearing two years old.
The months bled together, melting away until the sun began to paint the sky in deep shades of orange and blood-red at the end of a particularly grueling afternoon.
Temorsth sat on the wooden deck, panting heavily as he wiped sweat from his brow.
"What are those?" he asked curiously, his eyes locking onto his father's hands. Xalier was holding three elegant flasks crafted from pure white jade, their slender necks sealed tightly with cork.
"These are Mortal-Ranked Body Tempering Pills," Xalier explained, pulling the cork plug from the first bottle.
A faint, earthy aroma wafted through the air. "They are designed to accelerate your physical strength. However, you must never rely on them entirely. If you use them as a crutch, they will rot your foundation and leave you weak in the long run."
Xalier tipped the flask, dropping a small, greyish sphere into his palm. It looked remarkably plain for something forged from alchemy.
"Uh, how do I..."
"Just put it on your tongue and swallow," Xalier instructed. "The moment it hits your inside, you will feel a sudden rush of raw, unrefined energy exploding outward. Your only job is to try to bind that energy to your muscles at first. Gather as much as you can."
Temorsth stared at the tiny pill, hesitating for a fraction of a second. Seeing his reluctance, Xalier smiled gently.
"It is always faster to learn by doing, son. There is no shame in failing on your first try. Hours of my lecturing can't match the immediate knowledge you gain from a single experience. Also, we have more than plenty."
"Alright," Temorsth nodded, steeling his resolve. "I'll try!"
He placed the pill in his mouth.
"If it feels too large to swallow whole, bite it in half," Xalier added quickly. "But whatever you do, do not chew it... You might explode it if you do..." The last part was too quiet to hear.
Crunch. Gulp.
Temorsth swallowed the fractured pieces. Instantly, his eyes widened. "Umu... it feels so strange..."
It was a completely alien sensation. It felt as though a torrential wave of liquid fire and heavy food was pouring directly into his chest, triggering an intense, simultaneous wave of extreme hunger, deep thirst, and a sudden, bloated feeling of absolute fullness. The energy thrashed wildly inside his veins.
"Good! Hold it there," Xalier said, waiting patiently for a minute before extending a hand to pull his son back to his feet.
Temorsth took his father's hand, looking down at his trembling fingers with a frown. "I don't think I did very well... I couldn't even bind twenty percent of that raw energy before it dissolved."
"I don't know if twenty percent is considered poor or not," Xalier chuckled, a massive hand coming down to violently ruffle Temorsth's pitch-black hair. "There are no absolute metrics for a two-year-old taking such pills. But I know for a fact that you kept more of it down than I did on my first try."
"Really...?" Temorsth peered up through his messy hair.
"Really!" Xalier beamed, his bright smile radiating warmth.
Another two years vanished into the relentless cycle of training.
By his fourth birthday, Temorsth had grown significantly stronger. As his physical constitution hardened, he noticed a crucial shift: his reinforced body was finally sturdy enough to handle the volatile wisps of dark and light energy constantly leaking through his dual seals.
[Congratulations: The Host's life expectancy has successfully increased by several months!]
The sudden system prompt validated his theories, fueling a renewed fire in his chest. 'If I can delay the breakdown just by getting physically stronger...'
The motivation became an obsession.
He didn't just want to live for his own sake anymore. He fiercely loved this beautiful, strange family.
He refused to let it fall apart because of his untimely death. He knew how fragile people could be when faced with devastating grief, and he refused to leave his parents alone to pick up the pieces of a broken future. He was doing everything in his power to ensure he would survive past six.
But the universe, he quickly realized, had no intention of making things easy for him.
Not long after his fourth birthday, Temorsth stepped out of his bedroom to find a jarring sight. His parents were dressed in heavy traveling cloaks, their faces grim and set with an unspoken tension.
"Uh?" Temorsth stopped in his tracks. "Are you going somewhere?"
Xalier turned around. Seeing his son standing in the doorway, the Vampire King walked over, his steps unusually heavy. When he spoke, his voice lacked its usual steady confidence, wavering with masked emotion.
"Son... your mother and I have to leave the sanctuary to take care of some urgent matters. We... we likely won't return for a few months."
"Huh? What... why?" Temorsth's heart dropped.
"You must continue your training while we are gone," Xalier pushed forward, deliberately ignoring the boy's confusion to mask his own pain.
"Do not lose your focus just because you are alone. I have already taught you the Basic Mysteries of the blade. When we return, I expect to see a fully formed Beginner Sword Mastery on your status screen. Understand?"
Before Temorsth could press for answers, Xalier stepped aside, allowing Elah to step forward.
The Light Elf Queen crouched down, her long, ethereal silver hair pooling across the wooden floorboards. She placed her hands gently on Temorsth's shoulders, staring deep into his blue eyes.
"Baby... you know that Mommy and Daddy love you more than life itself, right?"
"Where are you going?" Temorsth demanded, panic suddenly clawing at his throat. His meticulous, mature mind was in complete chaos.
"We just have some sudden business outside the region," Elah whispered, her eyes turning glossy as tears began to pool along her lashes. "We will hurry back as fast as we can. The wooden golems have been programmed to handle everything you need. If you want anything at all, just command them..."
'Why? What changed?' The sheer suddenness of it felt entirely unreal. His thoughts spun into disarray. 'It must be something catastrophic... but why the haste? We've never even spoken about them leaving.'
"I know," Temorsth said, forcing his voice to sound light, desperate to project a confidence he didn't feel to calm his mother's shaking hands. "I love you and Dad too, but... where are you going? Can't I come with you?"
His voice cracked at the end. The old, deep-seated trauma of his past life flared to life. He had spent his entire previous existence being left behind, losing track of everyone he held dear until they were ripped away permanently. He couldn't go through that agony again.
"This..." Elah looked up at her husband, her eyes pleading.
Xalier stood in the shadows, his face pale as he slowly shook his head.
Elah closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath to compose herself before looking back at her son. "It's truly nothing to worry about, sweetie. Just a bit of work... We will bring home a present for you, so please don't be sad."
Her voice trembled with hidden grief. Before Temorsth could voice another protest, she pulled him into an embrace so fierce and desperate that it stole the air from his lungs.
After several long, suffocating seconds, Elah reluctantly let him go.
"Mommy loves you more than anything!"
She abruptly stood and turned away, tears spilling down her cheeks as she rushed toward the entrance. Temorsth instinctively took a frantic step forward to follow her—
Grab.
A heavy leather glove clamped onto his shoulder, halting him in his tracks. Temorsth looked up to find his father staring down at him with a fierce, burning intensity.
"We will be back, son. Never worry," Xalier said, his voice dropping into a low, resonant growl. "Your parents are not so weak that you need to lose sleep over our safety."
Temorsth looked past his father, seeing his mother pause at the threshold to cast one final, heartbroken look over her shoulder. Slowly, Temorsth forced himself to nod.
"I know," the boy said, his voice instantly smoothing over into a perfectly calm, reassuring mask. "Don't worry about me. I'll be perfectly fine."
Xalier's gaze softened. "Good. Take care of yourself, son. And don't slack on your forms."
With a final nod, Xalier stepped through the frame, closing the heavy oak door firmly behind him. The click of the latch echoed through the silent house.