Morning light spilled softly over the horizon as Sylvia carried Alden in her arms, her steps light and steady. After breakfast, they were once again making their way toward the ancient tree that dominated the landscape.
From the safety of her embrace, Alden could see the distant silhouette of a village bit further from the tree. Beyond that though, only nature stretched endlessly—Clear green sky, rolling grasslands rippled like a green sea, and a dense forest rose on the distant left.
Because of that, nothing commanded the eye like the tree they were heading toward.
It towered above the wilderness, timeless and immense—grander even than Alden remembered from the day before. Its vast canopy seemed to brush the sky, its gnarled roots twisting deep into the earth like the fingers of some ancient sentinel.
Sylvia's voice broke through his quiet marveling, soft but laced with persistent concern.
"Al, are you really okay?" she asked for the third time, her brow furrowed. "Does anything hurt?"
Alden shook his head.
Yesterday, his attempts to speak had produced only pitiful whimpers, strained and fragile. Conversation, for now, was off the table. And truthfully, he preferred it that way.
He still didn't know how to approach his new parents.
"You have to tell Mom if you feel even a little strange, okay?" she urged.
He gave a small nod in reply.
Truth be told, yeah, Alden was a little grumpy this morning. It was only natural, his mind was still plagued with heavy questions since yesterday.
Sylvia, in contrast, carried a renewed radiance. Though her worry was still apparent, a lightness had touched her steps, and a gentle smile had graced her face since dawn. Even in simple attire, her now neatly brushed hair caught the sunlight like threads of silk.
She was striking—almost blinding in her serene beauty. Alden wouldn't mind inheriting those genes.
"Al is very strong," Sylvia murmured fondly, running her fingers through his hair. "But we'll still visit Myrr, just to be safe. He's very kind. Mom will bring you there often from now on, okay?"
Myrr — that was the name of the colossal tree. Alden had learned that over breakfast when Sylvia explained the day's plans.
The logic puzzled him a bit. In his old world, a child as frail as him would've been kept locked indoors, swaddled in protections until his body matured. But clearly, his old logic no longer applied.
After a short walk, they arrived.
Beneath the cool, dappled shade of Myrr's massive branches, Sylvia approached the ancient trunk. Carefully, she adjusted Alden, positioning him forward. Her eyes sparkled with encouragement.
"Can you say hello to Myrr, Al?" she asked gently as she continued moving.
She guided his small hand forward and pressed his palm against the rough bark.
The effect of the 'greeting' was immediate.
A warmth bloomed through his chest, radiating outward like sunlight thawing frozen glass. It wasn't just comforting—it was protective, steady, and all-encompassing. His eyes widened in surprise, sharp enough to draw a small, knowing chuckle from Sylvia.
"This is Myrr's protection," she explained softly. "He loves you very much. Make sure to thank him properly one day, okay?"
Stepping back, Sylvia dipped into a graceful bow with Alden still in her arms. Then, they sat beneath the tree, gazing out over the spanning grasslands and the bordering forest.
The wind was gentle today too, cool breezes brushing softly against their skin, mingling with the warm kiss of sunlight filtering through the leaves.
Yet Alden's thoughts were busy—drawn to the pulse of strength now humming within him.
He opened his status window in astonishment.
His attributes had surged—five points gained in every area except mana affinity, luck, and charm.
Staggering. With just this, he was already nearing the strength of his 23-year-old self. His hands clenched into fists as wonder coursed through him.
His mind is no longer groggy and his breathing steadied. He glanced back at the trunk and quietly triggered a system analysis.
[ Analyzing effect: 1% ]
Observing everything, Sylvia smiled softly, threading her fingers through his hair as she let him wonder.
Soft, melodic chimes drifted into the clearing.
The sounds caught Alden attention as he turned his head toward the source.
Bronze-skinned and golden-eyed, it was one of the beings that had touched him yesterday. The fairy hovered effortlessly, wings shimmering faintly in the light. Its shifting gaze hovered a bit at Alden, then shifted to Sylvia, and a cascade of delicate chimes echoed in the air followed suit.
"He's fine now, don't worry," Sylvia replied to the chimes naturally, her voice warm with gratitude. Taking Alden's hand, she lifted it in a gentle wave toward the fairy. "Will you keep looking after Al from now on too, Naifel?"
The fairy—Naifel—fluttered in place, light and fluid, as choruses of chimes rang out in response. From Sylvia's easy smile, it was clear this curious little guardian had somehow earned her trust.
"Is Idril nearby, Naifel?" she asked.
The fairy nodded before gliding away toward the forest.
As they watched Naifel leave, silence returned as mother and son sat quietly.
It was supposed to be relaxing. The easy weather, the comforting buff, the caring mother.
But for Alden, it was awkward.
He tilted his head upward, only to meet Sylvia's soft smile and gentle eyes. It was strange—moments like this made his mind and heart collide.
From what he'd observed yesterday, the Drukas were a quiet bunch.
They spoke only when needed. Sylvia and Liam focused almost entirely on Alden, Jenny drifted silently through the house, and Charles kept to herself unless spoken to.
Weird vibes, really, but also strangely comforting. Especially for someone like Alden, who had spent most of his life alone, accompanied only by his own thoughts.
But since yesterday, one question has plagued him.
Was he really Liam and Sylvia's child?
Sure, he might've been born to them, but his soul wasn't.
Had he taken a spot meant for another soul? Had he taken away Liam and Sylvia's son?
Heavy questions, questions that Alden doesn't wish to know the answer to. The memories that he'd once died to preserve now weighed on him like a shadow.
Especially in quiet moments like this, Liam and Sylvia's tender gazes felt unbearable.
Thankfully, no one but him and Asta could perceive the system, so he could escape by drowning himself in thought at any time.
'System, open information panel.'
[ Location: Dravarn ]
[ Description: The first awakened world ]
[ Notice: Further information is currently being collected ]
Unfortunately, information was sparse.
'What should I even do with you, system?' He could only sigh inwardly.
[ Notice: Information is limited at current authority level ]
Oh?
'How do I increase my authority level, then?'
[ Warning: Access Denied. The information exceeds the current authority level ]
Of course.
Thankfully, a shift in the environment saved him from spiraling any deeper into anger.
A soft, cute 'pop' broke the silence.
Sylvia's attention snapped backward. There, above them and nestled into the tree trunk, a giant green flower bud had appeared out of nowhere.
Without further warning, it bloomed—but not into a flower.
Where petals should have been, she hovered.
Though taller than the other fairies, she was still cat-sized and impossibly delicate. Yet, her presence was impossibly imposing, feeling as grand as the ancient tree itself.
A chill ran down Alden's spine.
Her wings shimmered, but their colors swirled slower, deeper—more velvet dusk and dawn than playful sparkle. Her skin flickered between cool ivory and warm amber, like moonlight unsure of where to settle. Also unlike the others, she wore something: silk-like cloth draped across her shoulders, shifting and breathing as though alive. Her face was sharper—the only fairy with hair, sleek against ageless features.
Her eyes snapped open.
Twin slits of molten glass, deep and layered.
It then dropped, and she locked onto Alden and Sylvia, making Alden choke on his breath.
"Alden, can you greet your aunt?" Sylvia asked, attention already back on him despite the giant pressure they were facing.
Aunt?
"What is wrong, Sylvia?" The fairy spoke before Sylvia could successfully guide Alden's hand to do their silly wave. Her voice was high and light, but it boomed like a shout.
Alden flinched, surprised by both the loud volume and the fact that she was speaking in a language he could understand.
"Is the little one still sick? I told you we should speak with Father." She huffed, floating closer.
"Idril, you're scaring him." Sylvia's glare cut sharply. It was the first time Alden had seen her angry expression, and it was scary. "Alden is fine. I brought him here to rest."
Idril froze midair, but it was only for a moment. She then broke into a wide grin.
"I see!" Joy lit her expression. "Then stay here for a few hours."
As she continued closer, Idril soon hovered just centimeters in front of Alden. Close enough that her scent hit him—wildflowers and rain. The childish smile on her petit face suited her perfectly.
"Alden, do you remember me?" Idril asked, tilting her head. "I looked after you half the time when your irresponsible parents ran off."
"Don't lie to him!" Sylvia hissed. "He's still at a sensitive age, he'll believe you."
Idril laughed, still fixated on Alden like he was her new favorite toy.
"Does he even understand words yet?" She pinched his nose lightly. "What does Liam's guide say?"
"...We aren't sure," Sylvia admitted quietly, her gaze dimming.
"I'll bless him anyway."
At her word, another sudden surge of vitality flooded Alden. It was similar to earlier—just far more intense. His eyes widened again. His stats jumped by another point.
Idril seemed very satisfied.
"How cute!" she beamed, moving to pat his head. "He's just like you when you were little, Sylvia."
Suddenly, Idril stopped and fished something from beneath her robe.
It was a large mushroom, with colors pulsing alive from brown to black. Also, at a size much larger than anything that should've fit under her garment.
"I'll give you this, little one. It's delicious," Idril said, prying open Alden's fist and dropping the mushroom in.
She then floated back and waited expectantly.
Alden's gaze flicked between the eager fairy and the pulsing mushroom in his hand. It was a desperate situation.
Luckily, Sylvia intervened.
"Al can only eat cooked food, Idril," she said, plucking the mushroom away. "Jenny will prepare your gift later."
Idril openly frowned at her words.
"How would you know? You have to try everything with a halfling."
Sylvia didn't respond immediately. Instead, she silently played with Alden in her arms.
Everyone here could see through it. Her silent soft smile hides nothing.
"...Stupid girl, how's any of this your fault?" Idril muttered, shaking her head.
Alden wondered the same.
It was understandable that everyone approached him with extreme caution, but Sylvia's gaze sometimes carried something beyond that.
Guilt and pity.
He'd assumed it was because he was born weak, but Idril's words hinted at something more.
Regardless of the reason, though, she was wrong.
This was all because of Asta.
He too, but mostly Asta.
Tightening his grip, Alden met Sylvia's gaze firmly, hoping to convey that truth. His heart ached every time he saw Sylvia's sadness.
Watching from the side, Idril chuckled softly.
"It seems little Al really does understand." She squeezed his ear fondly. "What a problematic little one. I like him."
Once again. Idril's touch instilled a comfortable warmness inside him.
This time, though, he doesn't have to wonder.
[ The effect has successfully been analyzed ]
[ It has been classified as a 'racial trait' and given a name ]
[ You have discovered the existence of 'Forefathers' Grace' ]