As Aragorn darted through the narrow city streets, he suddenly realized something strange. His small body weaved through the crowd with uncanny grace, slipping between people without so much as a brush of shoulders.
It was almost as though his feet knew where to land before he did, his body moving with instinctive precision.
He slowed, curiosity sparking in his eyes.
Closing them, he took a steady breath.
And then—he felt it.
Around him, faint pulses of life shimmered in the dark. Not faces or voices, but soft spheres of energy, glowing like blue embers suspended in the air. Dozens of them, each flickering with its own rhythm, painting a map of the street in his mind.
Aragorn's lips parted in wonder.
"Observation… haki?"
The realization hit him like a wave. He had unlocked Haki—just like that. No training, no meditation, no years of grueling battles. The system's gift had turned something nearly impossible into instinct.
His grin stretched ear to ear.
"Incredible."
With his eyes still closed, he began to run again, this time faster. Yet not once did he stumble or collide; he flowed through the gaps like water slipping through cracks, guided by the unseen dance of auras around him.
As the familiar silhouette of the orphanage came into view, a pang of something heavier stirred in his chest.
He had never known his parents. His father had perished before his birth, and his mother had died giving him life. All that remained of them was a name, written shakily on a scrap of paper the matron kept in her desk.
That name had become his alone.
Cassian D. Aragorn.
Aragorn paused at the edge of the orphanage yard, his eyes narrowing in focus.
Closing them, he reached out with his senses, letting the faint blue spheres of energy bloom in his mind's eye. His Observation Haki stretched outward, forming a hazy sphere around him.
'Five meters already,'
he noted with satisfaction.
He inched closer, intending to scout out the inside. But as he pushed his will forward, he felt resistance—like pressing against an invisible wall. The barrier trembled under his effort, inching a little, then refused to budge any further.
Aragorn grit his teeth, slight frustration gnawing at him. He pushed harder, but the invisible wall held firm. Worse still, his irritation backfired—the sphere wavered and shrank, retreating until it barely reached four meters.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax.
'Emotions disturb Observation… Got it.'
Taking a breath, he tried a different approach. Instead of pushing his Haki in all directions, he imagined narrowing it, shaping it. Like a bubble tightening behind him, funneling everything forward.
The response was immediate. His sphere contracted from the back, surging ahead in a focused cone. Ten meters forward—suddenly, he could feel it.
Right at the orphanage door, a clear blue presence burned against his senses.
Aragorn's face soured.
"Shit… of course she's standing right there."
'There's no point sneaking in now.' He sighed, straightening his small shoulders, and walked to the door with mock resignation.
The moment he stepped into view, the door creaked open. Standing there was Dama—the matron.
A broad, stern-faced woman with arms crossed and an expression that could make grown men shrink.
Her eyes locked onto him, her face darkening like a storm cloud. Then her jaw dropped comically wide as she let out a bellow that rattled the wood.
"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN UNTIL NOW, BRAT!?"
Aragorn winced, ears ringing. But a second later, his expression twisted into one of exaggerated misery. He sprinted forward, throwing himself into her bosom, wailing dramatically.
"Waaah, Matron, I'm sorry! I got lost!"
Dama's fierce expression softened almost instantly. She let out a sigh and began patting his head with surprising gentleness.
"Ohh, you poor boy," she murmured in a cooing voice.
"I knew you were too young to be wandering the city at this age."
Aragorn peeked up at her, his heart swelling with triumph.
'Heh, worked like a charm.'
But before his grin could fully bloom, her tone shifted.
"But…" Her hand stilled on his head.
"Rules are rules, Aragorn. As punishment, you'll be cleaning the dorms for a week."
Aragorn's smile froze. His face twisted in despair as visions of endless scrubbing and sweeping filled his mind. He looked up at her with his most pitiful puppy eyes.
"But, Matro—"
The gentle pat turned into a firm squeeze on his head, making him wince.
"Am I clear, Aragorn?"
His head bobbed like a drum.
"Of course! Of course!"
Satisfied, Dama released him and stepped aside, motioning toward the hall.
"Good. Off to your bed now, boy."
Aragorn trudged past her, muttering under his breath, but he couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips.
The next day, a sweaty Aragorn lay sprawled beneath the shade of a tree, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His arms and back still ached from scrubbing floors all morning, the punishment Dama had laid upon him.
A cool breeze rustled through the leaves, soothing his overheated body. He closed his eyes, thinking inwardly.
'It'll still take a week for my spirit sword to be born… tch, I want to try out my sword talent sooner.'
He sighed.
'But where would I even find a blade? Or at least a wooden practice sword?'
The thought slipped away as quickly as it came. He shook his head and sat upright.
"Forget it. For now, I'll focus on Haki."
Clenching his tiny fist, Aragorn concentrated, trying to drag forth that invisible power he had felt the day before. Beneath his skin, he could sense it—something heavy, dense, brimming with strength. It crawled just under the surface, eager but unwilling to emerge.
He strained harder, but his hand remained stubbornly bare.
"Damn… it's there, but it won't come out."
He frowned, recalling what he'd read and seen in his old world.
"Observation doesn't need a strong body, but Armament does… my physical power's just too weak right now."
With a sharp exhale, he pulled up the translucent screen again. The words flashed before him:
[Novice Package Delivered. Good luck, Host.]
[The system will now only display your stats—and those of others close to your power level.]
Aragorn focused.
"Stats."
Instantly, the glowing panel shifted, numbers etching themselves into view:
Status
Name: [Cassian D. Aragorn.]
Race: Human
Title: None
Class: None
Attributes:
STR: 2.1
DEX: 2.9
CON: 2.3
INT: 8.0
Skills:
[None]
Talents:
[Supreme Sword Talent]
[Peak Haki Talent]
Item:
[Spirit Weapon]