The Veylar estate buzzed with excitement. Mana fireworks lit up the sky, painting blue and gold streaks above the grand manor. Crystal goblets flowed among the nobles as musicians played enchanted lutes. Heralds shouted the same lines repeatedly:
"The heir has been born! The Veylar line lives on with a Mythic Skill!"
Adrian lay wrapped in silk in a golden crib, watching everything with keen newborn eyes. He understood more than others realized. He heard every whisper, every scheme among the nobles. Envy lurked in the corners of the hall, like snakes ready to strike.
But his parents stood strong against it all, a protective barrier.
Darius Veylar dominated the room with his presence—broad shoulders, molten-gold hair, and lion-like eyes glinting with fire. His voice boomed above the noise.
"Tonight, the world witnesses destiny. My son was not born to follow—he was born to lead!"
By his side, Seraphina radiated warmth. Her beauty silenced even the loudest nobles. She gathered Adrian into her arms, beaming at him as if he were her entire world. "My sweet Adrian," she said softly, "never forget this love when the world expects too much from you."
Adrian blinked. They don't understand… that I have two abilities.
He almost laughed if his baby body allowed it. Synchronization; the world would notice that. But Sacrifice? He would keep that a secret.
As the celebrations continued, the grand doors of the hall creaked open. Silence fell as a robed figure entered, her cane tapping on the polished floor.
"The Oracle..." nobles whispered.
An elderly woman, her blind eyes white as snow, shuffled forward. With each step, she brought an eerie stillness that even the drunken lords felt. She approached Darius and Seraphina, bowing her head slightly.
"Lord Veylar, Lady Veylar, I have seen the star of your heir. It shines brighter than all the others." Her voice creaked like old wood. "But light attracts darkness."
Seraphina instinctively pulled Adrian closer. "Speak plainly, lady Oracle. Don't cloud joy with riddles."
The blind woman turned her sightless gaze toward the child. For a moment, she paused, trembling as if the weight of her vision was too much to bear. Finally, she spoke:
"This child will face three trials. Betrayal, loss, death will pursue him. If he fails even once, he will live shattered, neglected, a broken heir."
The aristocracy gasped. A few smirked behind their hands, relishing someone else's ill fate.
Then the Oracle's voice grew deeper, almost reverent.
"If he survives them all… he will become something the world has never seen. He will not be king, nor conqueror, nor savior. He will be greater. Even gods will bow when he roars."
Her words echoed in the hall like thunder.
Darius's expression darkened, but a wild smile remained. "Then let the gods tremble, for my son will not fall."
Seraphina leaned close to Adrian, her voice fierce in his ear. "Remember this, dear one. The world may want to chain you, but you were born free. I will make sure you stay that way."
Adrian's small fingers flexed, curling with determination.
Not everyone in the grand hall celebrated the birth.
In a distant corner, hidden by drapes, a group of nobles watched as the crowd dispersed. Their faces were grim, eyes flashing with malice.
"That child..." one said, his voice sharp as a blade. "A Mythic Skill? From the Veylar bloodline? It's too dangerous."
Another sneered. "Darius was already a storm we could barely control. Now his son has struck like lightning? If the boy grows… what will remain of our power?"
A third man, older and stooped, stroked his beard with a trembling hand.
"Power is only treacherous if we let it mature. A young plant can be broken before it becomes a tree."
The group fell silent at those chilling words.
"But to harm a child—Darius and Seraphina would never forgive…" someone murmured uneasily.
"Then it must not trace back to us," the elder replied coldly. "Accidents happen. Plans can unravel quietly. Even lions can bleed if a cub is snatched before its fangs develop."
Their gazes shifted, each weighing the others' thoughts. The choice hung heavily in the air.
"The boy is marked by fate," one finally said. "But fate can be altered. We must ensure… that Adrian Veylar never becomes a man."
With that, the schemers slipped into the shadows, their whispers fading like poison.
That evening, silence settled over the estate. Servants slumbered in their quarters, torches dimmed low, and moonlight poured into Adrian's bedroom.
Adrian slept fitfully, but it wasn't restful.
He awoke to find himself standing—not as a baby, but as the man he had been in his past life. Tall and muscular, with golden hair shining under a dark sky.
Mirrors floated around him—dozens, encircling him like predators. Each reflected a different Adrian:
One knelt in handcuffs, his face void of hope.
Another sat on a throne, crowned, surrounded by endless armies bowing to him.
One was splattered with blood, his face ringed by corpses, expressionless.
The mirrors shattered, one by one, leaving just one intact.
In that final mirror, Adrian saw a dark version of himself—its form cloaked in shadow, its eyes burning like molten suns.
Its voice echoed his but colder and deeper:
> "Three doors will open. Behind them lie betrayal, loss, and death. Fail once, and you will be nothing. Survive all… and the world itself will kneel."
The mirror broke, shards raining around him like falling stars.
Adrian gasped and awoke in his crib, heart racing. Sweat beaded on his brow, but no one noticed.
The Oracle's prophecy… it's real. And it's already set in motion.
Later that night, after the dream, Adrian tossed in his crib. Moonlight streamed into the room, illuminating a small wooden rattle with silver trim lying on the floor next to him.
His newborn body stretched, reaching awkwardly for it. Fingers touched the toy—and something stirred within.
Should I… try it? he wondered. Golden eyes sparkled with curiosity.
He focused, and silent words glimmered in the corner of his sight, invisible to anyone else:
[Sacrifice Detected: Wooden Rattle (Material: Oak, Craft: Common)]
Sacrifice this object?
Adrian's lips curled slightly. Yes.
The rattle disintegrated into sparkling particles, vanishing from the crib. A wave of energy flowed into him, weak but real.
[Sacrifice Complete.]
Attribute Gained: Minor Durability (Oakwood)
Skill Fragment: Rhythm Sense (Common)
Adrian's body stiffened, eyes wide. His little heart raced.
Sturdiness… even if minor, his infant frame felt a bit stronger. The strange "Rhythm Sense" buzzed in his mind—an automatic sense of timing. He drummed his fingers on the blanket absentmindedly, perfectly in sync with his mother's footsteps passing outside the door.
A laugh nearly escaped him. This power actually lets me take anything… and make it mine.
But then his expression darkened. If anyone discovers this, they'll fear me. Hunt me down. Sacrifice must be a secret.
He shut his eyes, pretending to sleep as Seraphina quietly peeked in, smiling gently at her "peaceful" son.
Adrian shifted slightly in his crib, controlling his newborn body to remain calm as Seraphina checked on him. She kissed his forehead, whispering, "Sleep well, my little lion. Tomorrow, your story begins."
But outside the window, hidden from her gentle gaze, two eyes glimmered in the dark beyond the estate walls—cold, unmoving, watching the new heir.
The darkness lingered for a moment before fading into the night.
Adrian's baby body stirred softly, but his mind remained clear and resolute.
This time. I will not be hunted.