Life in the village, which bore the name Stonedale, flowed to its own, unhurried and eternal rhythm, subordinate to the cycle of the sun over the mountains and the changing of the seasons. For Seito, whose previous life had passed to the accompaniment of the roar of engines and the honking of cars, this silence was deafening at first. But gradually, he learned to hear the music in this tranquility: the morning crowing of roosters, the creak of a cart wheel coming from the field, the steady knock of Kenshi's axe in the workshop, the songs of the women by the stream rinsing laundry.
Daily life here was simple and harsh, but imbued with its own special coziness. The houses, built from thick logs darkened by time, seemed like an extension of the earth itself. Roofs made of tightly bound straw or wood shingles reliably sheltered from the rains and winds blowing from the mountains. In the center of each dwelling was a hearth—a stone or adobe heart of the home. Smoke escaped through a hole in the ceiling, and the heat emanating from the smoldering logs warmed the entire living space, where people ate, slept, and worked.
Seito quickly learned the daily routine. Rising with the first rays of the sun, a hearty breakfast—usually grain porridge, eggs if the hens were laying, and always a piece of cheese or dried meat. Then the adults went about their business: the men to the fields, pastures, or craft workshops; the women to the vegetable gardens, to prepare supplies, weave, or sew. Older children helped with the household or, gathering in flocks, played on the outskirts of the village, always under the supervision of one of the elders.
Lunch was modest, but dinner was the main meal of the day, when the whole family gathered together by the hearth, sharing news and plans. They ate from a common bowl, with their hands or wooden spoons carved by Kenshi himself. The food was simple, hearty, and, as Seito discovered to his surprise, incredibly tasty. The taste of fresh bread from the oven, still-warm milk, game cooked on coals, couldn't be compared to what he had eaten in his previous life.
Traditions here were not written laws, but the very fabric of life. Every harvest festival, day of remembrance for ancestors, or the start of the hunting season was celebrated by the entire community. The inhabitants of Stonedale believed in nature spirits: the spirit of the forest, who could both reward with mushrooms and berries and lead a hunter astray; the spirit of the river, granting fish and carrying away the careless; the spirit of the mountains, old and stern, whose breath was the winter cold and whose favor was deposits of stone and ore.
It was through these tales, through conversations by the fire, that Seito began to truly understand the world he had entered. His best teachers were the old men. He, a two-year-old-looking toddler with an unchildlike focus in his brown eyes, often joined the circle of venerable elders warming their bones in the sun by the communal barn. They, amused by the "toddler's curiosity," gladly shared stories.
"And here's our little Seito! Come to grandpa, sit, listen," old Orrick, a former hunter whose scarred cheek was more eloquent than any words, would greet him.
And Seito listened. He listened about the snowy peaks in the north, where, it was whispered, ice giants slept for thousands of years. About the impenetrable thickets in the east, where goblin tribes roamed among ancient trees and, according to the most frightening tales, wood trolls could be found. About the endless steppes to the south, where nomadic orcs sometimes raided border villages.
But of course, he was most interested in stories about magic.
"Magic, boy, it comes in different kinds," grumbled Tobas the healer, joining the conversation. "There's the kind from the elements—fire, water, earth, air. It's strong, but crude power. Rarely do common folk wield it. They say there's a whole academy in the capital where they teach such masters of flame." He coughed. "And then there's life magic. Like mine. I can't summon lightning, but I can channel the earth's power to mend a bone or dry up a fever. It's a gift from the spirits, given for serving the community."
Old Orrick nodded:
"True. And there's also rune magic. Blacksmith-alchemists wield it. They fuse enchanted stones into metal, creating weapons that don't dull or armor that can withstand a bear's claw. I saw such a thing once on a wandering knight."
Seito absorbed every word, and his system quietly recorded the data.
[Information received: "Schools of Magic." Entry logged to archive.]
[Bestiary updated: "Goblins," "Trolls," "Orcs." Threat level: Low-Medium.]
He began to notice patterns. Magic here wasn't infinite. Tobas looked exhausted after a healing session and drank a special herbal decoction. His father, lighting a lamp, took a short break before repeating the trick. Magic required expenditure—either of energy or something else.
One evening, when Kenshi was having a drink with a neighbor after a hard day, the conversation turned to that very squad of guards.
"Found nothing," the neighbor said gloomily. "There were tracks, but the beasts themselves—gone. As if they vanished into thin air."
"The forest hides them," Kenshi sighed. "I fear they won't leave before winter. We'll have to pool money for a mercenary. Heard some adventurer stopped in the neighboring village. Charges a lot."
Seito, sitting nearby and pretending to be engrossed in his "stone flower," perked up. He saw his mother cross herself and whisper, "May the spirits of the mountains protect us."
That's when it dawned on him. He looked around. No one—not his parents, not the elders, not even Tobas with his hidden power—saw what he saw. No windows with numbers, no notifications. When he "received" experience for completing quests, no one around felt any waves of energy. His system was invisible to others.
He decided to test his guess. Once, while playing with the other children—he forced himself to play to avoid seeming strange—he "accidentally" completed a daily quest: he was the first to climb onto a large log.
[Quest "Demonstrate Agility" completed! EXP +5.]
He fell off the log, pretending to trip, and froze, looking at the other children. They laughed, someone offered him a hand. No one was looking at the empty space in front of him. No one commented on the "ringing chime" he heard in his head.
Later, during dinner, he risked asking, stammering and choosing simple, childish words:
"Papa... do you ever... have numbers... in your head?"
Kenshi looked at him puzzled, then laughed and ruffled his hair.
"Numbers? What are you talking about, son? About how many nails I need for tomorrow? Of course! Life is all numbers: how much wood to chop, how many planks to plane."
Ayame smiled:
"Our little one is already thinking about the craft!"
They didn't understand. They didn't see the system.
This discovery stirred a storm of conflicting feelings within him. On one hand, it was incredible luck. He had a tool no one else had. A path to power others could only dream of. On the other hand, it was a terrible secret. If anyone found out... what would they do to him? Consider him demon-possessed? A test for the spirits? Want to pry out his secret? Fear, familiar and bitter, tightened his throat. The fear of being different. The fear of becoming a target.
He withdrew into himself. He became more cautious in displaying his abilities. He still completed the system's quests, but did so in solitude, when he was alone in the house or went to a distant meadow. He stopped demonstrating his preternatural agility or strength to avoid attracting unnecessary attention. He learned to control his facial expressions so as not to freeze with a focused look while reading messages invisible to others.
His "stone flower," always warm in the pocket of his simple linen shirt, became his talisman and reminder. It reminded him of the need for patience and secrecy. Seito often took it in his hands and just looked at it, feeling his own will, his resolve, harden like that stone.
One day, the system gave him an unusual quest.
[Special Quest: "Comprehension"]
[Goal: Spend one hour in complete silence and inactivity, concentrating on your breathing and heartbeat.]
[Reward: Increased Soul Capacity, hidden parameter.]
This was the most difficult quest for him—an adult mind in a child's body, craving action. But he accepted the challenge. He went to the edge of the village, sat under an old, mighty pine tree, and closed his eyes.
At first, it was unbearable. Thoughts raced, his body itched to move. But gradually, submitting to a will tempered by training and the warm stone, he calmed down. He heard only the rustle of leaves in the wind, the distant bleating of sheep, and the steady beat of his own heart. He didn't try to feel magic, didn't try to change anything. He just was.
And in that state of silence, he felt something new. Not the auras of people, but something greater. A huge, ancient, slumbering consciousness. It was the very earth beneath him. The mountains surrounding the valley. The forest rustling on the slopes. Their "breath" was slow, stretched over centuries, incomprehensible to mortals. But in that moment, Seito felt it.
He felt the finest, barely perceptible web of energy emanating from this consciousness. It permeated everything: the stones, the trees, the stream, even the air. This was the magic of this world. Its foundation. Its blood.
The hour flew by unnoticed. He opened his eyes. The world around him hadn't changed, but his perception had changed forever. He no longer looked at it as a foreign, inhospitable world. He saw its depth, its connection.
The system responded without its usual chime, only with a soft glow.
[Quest completed.]
[Reward received: "Sense of the World" (Passive Skill).]
[Soul Capacity increased. Affinity with natural magic flows enhanced.]
Seito stood up and placed his hand on the rough bark of the pine tree. He felt a slight, barely noticeable vibration under his fingers—an echo of that great consciousness.
He understood that his system was not just a game interface embedded in reality. It was a guide. A bridge between him, a stranger in this world, and the very essence of this world. It helped him not just to survive, but to fit in, to become a part of the whole.
He looked at the smoke rising over the roofs of Stonedale. At his village. At his home. He was no longer just an observer trapped in a child's body. He was Seito Kagami. Son of a carpenter and an herbalist. A boy with a secret. And he would protect this new, fragile world of his. Not only with the strength his system would give him, but with the understanding he would gain himself.
Whispering a quiet "thank you" to the old pine, he trudged home, to the warmth of the hearth and the love of his brown-eyed parents, feeling the warm stone in his pocket pulse in time with his steps.