The nursery was painted in soft blues and whites, with morning sunlight streaming through tall windows that overlooked the northern mountains. Essence crystals embedded in the ceiling provided gentle warmth that kept the room comfortable despite the cold climate outside. A mobile made of carved wooden birds hung above the crib, turning slowly in currents of air that Ashen suspected were maintained by some kind of circulation enchantment.
Three days old, and he was already cataloguing the magical infrastructure of his new home.
Being a baby was, in a word, frustrating.
Ashen lay in his crib staring at the ceiling, trapped in a body that could barely coordinate its own limbs. His mind remained sharp, adult consciousness intact, but his infant form refused to cooperate with even the simplest commands. Rolling over required exhausting effort. Focusing his eyes took concentration. And communication was limited to crying, which he found undignified but occasionally necessary.
Still, there were advantages to his situation that he hadn't initially considered. People talked freely around babies, assuming they understood nothing. And Ashen's tendency to stare quietly rather than fuss meant he was often present during conversations that provided valuable intelligence about this world and his family's place in it.
Like now, for instance.
Seraphina sat in a rocking chair near the window, nursing him while speaking with Elara about territorial administration. His oldest sister had come to deliver morning reports, as apparently she did every day, turning his mother's private time into an informal council meeting.
"The eastern trade caravans arrived yesterday," Elara was saying, reviewing a document with practiced efficiency. "Profits up eight percent from last quarter. The new route through the mountain pass is proving worthwhile despite the increased guard costs."
"Good," Seraphina replied, adjusting Ashen slightly. "And the mining operations?"
"On schedule. The essence stone deposits are richer than initial surveys suggested. Father is considering expanding operations if we can secure enough laborers."
"Make sure they're paid fairly. I won't have our family profiting from exploitation."
"Of course, Mother. I've already adjusted the compensation structure to be competitive with other territories."
Ashen listened carefully while appearing to focus solely on feeding. Essence stones were a valuable resource in this world, used to power enchantments and aid in cultivation. If his family controlled significant deposits, that explained some of their wealth and political influence.
"How is little Ashen doing?" Elara asked, finally acknowledging her youngest brother's presence.
"Perfectly healthy. The healers say he's developing normally, though he's quieter than the rest of you were at this age. Hardly cries unless he needs something."
"Perhaps he'll be contemplative. We could use another scholar in the family."
"Or perhaps he's just observant. Look how he watches everything. Those eyes don't miss much."
If you only knew how right you are.
Elara approached the chair, studying Ashen with the same analytical gaze she'd probably used on those trade reports. "He does seem unusually focused. Most infants at three days old can barely see past a few feet, but he's clearly tracking movement and faces."
"The healers noticed that too. They think he might have strong spiritual perception even before his awakening. Could indicate high natural talent."
Or it could indicate that I'm an adult consciousness in an infant body. But let's go with the 'natural talent' explanation.
Elara reached out, letting Ashen wrap his tiny fingers around one of hers. "Strong grip. Good coordination for his age." She paused, frowning slightly. "Mother, has Father said anything about... expectations?"
"What do you mean?"
"About Ashen's future. His role in the family."
Seraphina's expression softened with understanding. "You're worried about inheritance complications."
"I'm the eldest daughter. Reikan is the heir, which is traditional. Kael commands our forces. Lyra..." Elara trailed off with a slight smile. "Lyra does whatever Lyra wants. But another son could complicate things if Father decides—"
"Stop," Seraphina said gently but firmly. "Your father and I have no intention of changing succession plans. Reikan will inherit the duchy. That's settled. Ashen will receive appropriate education and resources, but we're not grooming him to challenge his brother."
Elara visibly relaxed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have worried. It's just, political marriages and inheritance disputes have destroyed families before."
"Not this family. Your father is many things, but he's not the type to pit his children against each other." Seraphina looked down at Ashen, her expression warm. "This little one will find his own path. We'll make sure he has the tools to succeed, but the direction is his to choose."
Good. The last thing I need is inheritance drama. I have zero interest in running a duchy or playing political games with my siblings.
I just need access to resources, training, and the freedom to grow stronger without interference.
Sounds like that's exactly what I'll get.
Elara stayed for another hour, discussing various administrative matters while Ashen committed everything to memory. Trade routes, military deployments, political relationships with neighboring territories—all useful information that painted a clearer picture of the Silverion family's position.
They were powerful, certainly. One of five Great Ducal houses that effectively governed the Asterian Empire under the Emperor's nominal rule. But they weren't invincible, and they had rivals among the other duchies who would love to see them weakened.
After Elara left, Seraphina placed Ashen back in his crib and went about her daily routine. A servant came to sit with him while his mother attended to her own duties as duchess—apparently she was involved in charitable work and healers' guilds throughout the territory.
The servant, a middle-aged woman named Mira, talked to him while she tidied the nursery.
"You're such a good baby," Mira cooed, adjusting his blankets. "Barely a peep out of you. My own children screamed day and night at your age." She moved to the windows, opening them slightly to let in fresh air. "The young master's eyes are remarkable. Golden like the Duke's lightning, but softer. Like honey catching sunlight."
Ashen made a small sound that he hoped conveyed polite acknowledgment. Mira seemed delighted by any response.
"Oh, you're vocal today! That's good. Babies should make noise sometimes, lets us know everything's working properly." She laughed at her own comment. "Twenty years I've worked in this castle, served all the Silverion children. Each one different, each one special in their own way."
She continued talking, mostly to herself, but Ashen gathered useful information from her rambling. Reikan had been a serious, studious child. Kael had gotten into constant trouble with his aggressive play. Elara had apparently started reading at age three and never stopped. Lyra had driven everyone crazy with her endless energy and curiosity about everything.
"Wonder what kind of child you'll be," Mira mused, looking over at him. "Quiet so far, but that might change. Babies have a way of surprising you."
I'll probably surprise everyone, just not in the ways they're expecting.
The afternoon brought a different visitor—Aldric himself, taking time from his duties to check on his youngest son.
The Duke entered the nursery with the same measured stride he probably used approaching battlefields, but his expression gentled when he saw the crib. Mira curtsied and excused herself, leaving father and son alone.
"Ashen," Aldric said, approaching the crib. "Your mother tells me you're behaving well. No crying fits, no constant demands for attention. That's good. Shows self-control, even at this age."
Or it shows I'm an adult who finds crying embarrassing.
Aldric reached down, carefully picking up his son. For such a large man, battle-scarred and hardened by years of combat, he held the infant with surprising gentleness.
"You're the fifth child I've held like this," Aldric continued, moving to sit in the rocking chair. "Each time feels just as terrifying. I can face down C-Rank monsters without flinching, but holding something this small, this fragile..." He shook his head slightly. "Fatherhood is its own kind of courage."
Ashen looked up at his father's face, really studying it for the first time. Aldric was probably in his late forties or early fifties—hard to tell with cultivators, since they aged slower—with silver hair and the kind of weathered features that came from decades of responsibility. His eyes were sharp, assessing, but not cold. This was a man who took his duties seriously but hadn't lost his humanity in the process.
"Your mother worries I'll push you too hard," Aldric said quietly. "She thinks I expect too much from all of you. Maybe she's right. I do have high standards." He looked down at Ashen, expression thoughtful. "But it's because I know what's out there. Beyond our borders. Beyond the Empire. Threats that would destroy everything we've built if we're not strong enough to stop them."
Oh, if you only knew. The threats you're thinking about are nothing compared to what's coming in a few decades.
"So yes, I'll train you. All of you. Make sure you can protect yourselves and others. But I won't break you doing it. You're my children, not weapons to be forged." Aldric's voice softened. "You get to choose your own path, Ashen. Whatever that is, as long as you walk it with integrity and strength, I'll be proud."
Ashen felt that warmth in his chest again, the same feeling he'd gotten when Seraphina had expressed her unconditional love. His father approached it differently—duty and strength mixed with affection—but the core message was the same.
These people genuinely cared about him, not for what he could do or become, but simply because he was theirs.
It was humbling and motivating in equal measure.
Aldric stayed for an hour, just holding his son and occasionally talking about his plans for the territory, upcoming negotiations with other duchies, concerns about monster activity in the northern mountains. Ashen absorbed it all, building his understanding of the political and military landscape.
Eventually, Seraphina returned and smiled at the sight of her husband cradling their youngest.
"Playing the doting father?"
"Someone has to. You can't monopolize all the good moments."
"I carried him for nine months. I think I've earned monopoly rights."
They bantered affectionately while Ashen was transferred back to his mother's arms. Watching them together, the easy familiarity and genuine affection, he realized something important.
His previous life had been empty of this kind of connection. Relationships had been transactional, superficial, maintained only as long as they served a purpose. He'd died alone because he'd lived alone, too focused on work to build anything real with anyone.
This family offered something different. Something worth protecting.
Not just because they were useful resources for his growth, though they were that. But because they were people who loved him unconditionally, and maybe, just maybe, he could learn to return that love without it being a weakness.
Caring about people doesn't have to mean being controlled by them.
I can love my family and still pursue my goals.
In fact, they're part of why I need to succeed. The stronger I become, the safer they'll be when the real threats arrive.
Protection and freedom aren't mutually exclusive.
They're complementary.
That evening, after his parents had retired for the night, Ashen lay awake in his crib. The castle had settled into quiet, just the occasional sound of guards on patrol or servants finishing late duties.
He tested his new body's limitations again, trying to move with more precision. Rolling from back to side took enormous effort but was technically possible. His fingers could grasp with reasonable strength. His eyes could track movement accurately.
Not much, but more than a normal three-day-old infant should manage. The system's amplification was already showing subtle effects, even this early.
He wondered when he'd be able to check the system again. So far it had only pulsed once, confirming its existence but providing no additional information. Presumably it would respond when relevant—when he had techniques to amplify or mastery to track.
Five years until the awakening ceremony. That's when children discover their affinities and begin formal cultivation.
The system said it would amplify my Space, Time, and Sword affinities to Primordial Rank during that awakening.
Until then, I'm just a baby with an adult consciousness and slightly enhanced physical capabilities.
Which means I have five years to learn everything possible about this world before my real journey begins.
Five years of observation. Of studying my family's techniques from a distance. Of understanding political structures and power dynamics.
Five years to build a foundation of knowledge that will support everything that comes after.
I can work with that.
Through the window, he could see stars beginning to emerge in the darkening sky. They were different from Earth's stars, arranged in unfamiliar constellations that would take time to learn. But they were beautiful in their own way, distant points of light in an endless void.
Like him, in a sense. A distant consciousness in an endless new existence, trying to find his place and purpose.
But unlike his previous life, this time he wasn't alone in the darkness.
This time he had family. Had love. Had opportunity.
And time. Lots and lots of time.
Ashen closed his eyes, let his infant body's natural need for sleep take over, and drifted off with one thought echoing through his consciousness.
This is just the beginning.
Day three of a journey that will span decades, maybe centuries.
But every journey starts with a single step.
Or in this case, with learning to walk.
Literal steps can wait.
For now, observation and patience are enough.
He slept deeply and dreamlessly, the sleep of someone who had died exhausted and been given the gift of rest in a new life.
Tomorrow would bring new observations, new conversations, new pieces of the puzzle he was assembling.
But tonight, wrapped in soft blankets in a warm nursery in a castle protected by people who loved him, Ashen Silverion was simply content to exist.
It was more than Takeshi Yamamoto had ever had.
And it was just the beginning of what Ashen would build.