Scroll 6: The First Trickles of Power
Ethan Cole was not the kind of man to stand in a queue, and yet here he was, in the most humiliating queue of all time: a queue in a womb and with the so called Child of Destiny.
Suppose the story was playing out like it had in the original script, the one he had dimly remembered in that book on Earth, the brat beside him would turn into the kind of guy who had entire songs written about his heroic jawline. The chests of treasure would actually open at his feet. Accidentally, he would be given mythic weapons by strangers who were old men who would simply appear. His name would be cheered like it was the selected taste of the century.
And Ethan? Same story big brother? Yep, he was damned to be the wretched opener. Humiliated before the audience. He made the attempt, and was patted on the head by older people who said, such a pity. And finally, knocked in the dust in some back-yard brawl--the sort that your adversary does not even work up a perspiration.
That would not suit.
Nope. Not this life. Not in this womb.
That is why Ethan had been experimenting.
Most unborn babies were happy to drift about, sleep, kick a little, perhaps twist the umbilical cord as a joke. Ethan? He was suitor Qi.
Stupid as it was.
Spiritual energy was not really meant to be played with by developing fetuses. His body was more or less a half-baked workshop that lacked most of the tools and safety equipment. And whereas in the stories a first breath in the world had drawn heaven and earth energy like a hurricane through the nostrils of a protagonist, Ethan was operating on the same level as sucking air through a straw with a chewing-gum plug in it.
At first nothing.
He could sense the faint hum of it outside like music through a wall but every time he reached for it, something in the womb's strange, protective field shoved it back.
Then, one day, his "roommate" shifted.
The little prodigy next to him rolled over in that slow, lazy fetal way and slipped into a deep, heavy slumber. Ethan felt the difference instantly: the pressure around them loosened, just slightly, like a guard had stepped away from his post.
That was his moment.
He reached again carefully this time, like a thief picking a lock in the dark.
The Qi trickled in. Barely a wisp, light as spider silk, cold as mountain air.
It slid into him like a reluctant guest, testing the place out.
Ethan grinned in the dark. Sure, it was tiny. Laughable, really. If spiritual energy were water, he'd just caught a single drop on his tongue. But that drop was his.
And in his experience, you could do a lot with one drop if you knew how to stretch it.
The air in the womb seemed different after that or maybe it was him. His awareness sharpened. His skin prickled in ways that had nothing to do with temperature. Somewhere in his chest, a faint warmth began to curl like smoke.
Then…
It happened.
Not with flashing lights or trumpets. Not with some floating holographic menu full of overcomplicated stats.
No, this thing crept in quiet, like a whisper you weren't supposed to hear.
The voice wasn't even a voice. It was a vibration in his bones, a ripple through the tiny threads of his forming muscles.
[System: welcome host]
And that was it. No dramatic follow-up. No tutorial fairy.