"Are you heading out again today?"
Time had flown by in the blink of an eye. It had been nine years since Kroha began his life as a child of the Frontel family.
"Yes!"
"Who do you take after to be so lovely?"
"Mother, obviously."
Kroha flashed a bright smile, and Anet's lips curved upward in response.
Her words and actions brimmed with blind affection.
At first, they had felt utterly alien and burdensome to him. But now, they didn't seem so bad.
"My precious child. Make sure you come back before it gets too late."
"No need to worry."
Anet knew better than to interfere further. It was pointless.
Day after day, without fail, Kroha had made his way to the rose garden.
Today was no different. With that exchange behind him, he left the manor without delay.
Creeeak—
It was just the sound of the door closing. Yet to Anet, it felt like something more.
For some reason, she sensed the distance between her and Kroha growing. Perhaps it was guilt.
Thorn Hill was where the annex stood—a place where Frontel blood had to reside until reaching a certain age.
Despite the name, it was a high plateau, surrounded by thorny vines laced with deadly poison to ward off intruders.
It was safe, in a way... but in truth, it was no different from isolation.
Anet worried this might harm Kroha.
Was he visiting the garden every day just to escape loneliness?
'Every time I come here, I'm struck by how perfect this place is.'
...Or so it seemed. Settling onto the grass in the rose garden, Kroha took a deep breath.
There were many reasons for placing the Frontel annex here, but it all boiled down to one.
'The mana quality is exceptional.'
That was why he came out here consistently.
Children of the Frontel family were destined to become knights, unfiltered by choice. And a knight's prowess hinged on mana.
The high plateau's great advantage lay here: with thinner oxygen in the air, the mana's purity soared.
'At this rate, the time to form a mana core will drop dramatically.'
It was worth dropping their children into this harsh environment, risks and all. The younger the age, the faster mana absorption. Far more efficient than brutal training.
'Not that it matters to me.'
A core's value scaled with mana.
Once formed, it generated mana naturally within the body, with output rising by its level.
But Kroha was human in a way that couldn't even meet the basic premise of condensing mana in his dantian.
He couldn't possess even a single core.
Nothing new there. He'd never had one in his past life either.
"Hoo—."
Kroha exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. He could feel it vividly.
Mana flowing into his dantian with each breath was splitting apart rapidly.
Its high purity meant immense power—power that writhed like the pain accompanying Dissolving Ice, desperately trying to flee his body.
'No point forcing it to stay.'
He didn't fight it. Nor did he simply let it go.
He merely guided it along a new path.
Not toward the dantian, where cores formed—but toward his heart.
It wasn't the right choice.
The mana would rush straight to his heart, dissolve into his blood, and poison his entire body.
'For most, it'd drive them mad or cripple them...'
But not for Kroha, afflicted with Dissolving Ice.
Blood laced with mana had to pass through the dantian inevitably, and his condition naturally regulated the amount.
'River.'
His unique mana circulation method—one only those with Dissolving Ice could use.
A way to wield mana endlessly, so long as physical limits held.
'Being this young makes the growth even faster.'
One more year.
That's how long until River's foundation solidified.
In his past life, he'd only built a proper River near adulthood, stumbling through trial and error before then just to survive.
Now, at merely nine years old...
River wasn't built on possessing mana, so to others, his mana might still seem scant...
'Even at this construction stage, it rivals a 1-star core.'
In a year, it'd match a 3-star core.
That gap alone was massive. Catching up to his past life's heights was only a matter of time.
But it wasn't enough. Even then, he'd died.
'I need to get stronger.'
Setting his past self as the goal wouldn't cut it. He needed not just strength, but influence.
Fortunately, this life offered time, environment, and status—all aligned.
His top priority was clear.
'Claim Frontel succession rights.'
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"Ronne."
"You called, Lady Anet?"
Ronne, the sole servant and guard knight on Thorn Hill, placed a hand over his heart and bowed deeply.
"Kroha's off at the garden again... Couldn't we drop the formalities?"
Anet gave a wry smile.
"...I am a knight of the family, sworn to protect you and Young Master Kroha..."
"Don't."
"...Got it."
Ronne relented reluctantly. Truth be told, it suited them both.
He and Anet had served the Frontel family as knights far longer together.
"What in the world is going on?"
The vague question didn't fool Ronne. He knew it concerned Kroha's condition.
A miracle.
No—impossible. A child with Dissolving Ice couldn't be that healthy. And not just healthy, but...
"I can sense his mana."
Ronne knew his words contradicted reality. Kroha's mana deficiency persisted.
Yet it wasn't a mistake. Faint, but growing—he was certain.
"I don't know how to explain it..."
Even a knight with a 6-star core like Ronne couldn't grasp it. Kroha's mana didn't stem from a core.
"It's good news, but..."
They should rejoice.
As parents, how could they not be thrilled at their child's improving health?
Yet Anet couldn't simply bask in it.
"Can that child... survive in the family?"
A few more years, and Kroha would turn eleven. A pivotal moment.
The time when true Frontel children were 'selected.'
"...It'll be tough."
Kroha wasn't the only Frontel child. Eight siblings above him.
It was all part of forging a perfect heir. Only fierce succession battles bred strong leaders.
"I thought so."
Kroha, though, was an exception—far from succession. Or rather, he shouldn't aspire to it.
Anet wasn't a formal wife of the Frontel family.
No matter the family, succession matters demanded sensitivity.
'Such a shame.'
Ronne could only look on with pity.
He knew Anet's past as a promising knight. It made the bitterness sharper.
Thinking of how Frontel—the one she'd pledged loyalty to—had treated her upon Kroha's birth brought a sigh.
The disdain hadn't changed. No one had visited in years for that reason.
"Maybe leaving this place would be better."
Ronne held his tongue. Anet knew the consequences.
Kroha bore Frontel blood undeniably. His direct siblings wouldn't leave a potential threat.
"Better if he's not selected at all."
The ideal outcome.
Failure to qualify stripped even the 'direct lineage' label of value.
Not impossible, either.
Harder to imagine a coreless child making the cut.
...Until now.
Now that mana stirred in Kroha, the possibility couldn't be dismissed.
If he kept growing, selection was likely. Even as a bastard, he'd bear heir responsibilities.
That's why Anet agonized.
She couldn't wish for his health to worsen and fail selection—or recover and face it.
"The family already knows, don't they?"
"...Yes."
Ronne, the Frontel family's eyes, wasn't just a protector.
Everything seen and heard here went straight to Kun Frontel. Especially about direct descendants like Kroha.
As Anet said, the anomaly was family knowledge.
Just not significant enough for attention yet.
"One favor?"
Ronne nodded readily.
"...Train Kroha."
This, he couldn't gloss over.
To a Frontel retainer like Ronne, it was duty.
They'd delayed only due to the boy's frailty.
Still, he had to confirm.
"Who am I doing this for?"
Silence stretched. Ronne sought clarity.
A plea from an old friend? Or an order from a Frontel knight?
Anet's face hardened with resolve.
"Knight Ronne of Frontel."
A declaration.
Requesting Kroha's training meant entering the succession war outright.
An inevitable choice—the only thing a mother could do to ensure her son's survival.
Creeeak—
The closed door swung open. Anet and Ronne whipped their heads around like they'd been caught.
There stood Kroha, naturally.
'He's grown so much already.'
Ronne felt a fresh awe, despite years together in the annex.
The path ahead would be grueling. Some of Kroha's siblings already surpassed him.
Worst-case scenarios loomed.
Yet Ronne placed a hand over his heart, bowed to Anet, and spoke.
"I shall obey your command, Lady Anet."
Witnessing it all, Kroha blinked innocently.
He'd overheard enough to grasp the situation. To him, it was nothing but gratitude.
'You won't regret this, Mother... or Ronne.'
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