Chapter 2: A Gift Given Without Celebration
A blue screen unfolded before my eyes.
It did not appear with sound or light. It did not announce itself grandly, nor did it force its presence upon me. One moment the air was empty—then it wasn't.
The screen hovered silently, translucent, its edges faintly glowing like frozen moonlight.
[Initializing System.]
I frowned.
Not in shock. Not in disbelief.
In assessment.
My first instinct was not panic but verification. I blinked once. Twice. The screen remained. I raised my hand and passed it through the text. There was no resistance, no ripple, no distortion.
It was not physical.
Yet it was undeniably real.
"So this is it," I murmured. "The helper."
If this had happened an hour earlier—before I understood my situation—I might have lost composure. But panic was a luxury I could no longer afford.
I had already died once.
The screen flickered.
[System Initialization Complete.]
[Detecting Host.]
Lines of information arranged themselves neatly, without haste.
[Host: Lucian Valemont]
[Age: 17]
[Status: Transmigrated]
[Cultivation: None]
[Constitution: Spirit Resonance (A+)]
My gaze lingered on the last line.
Spirit Resonance.
So that was the truth.
Lucian Valemont had not been talentless.
He had been terrified.
In this world, spirit-related constitutions were anomalies. Even sensing elemental spirits placed someone far above ordinary cultivators. Those who managed to form contracts with spirits were praised as prodigies, pillars of the future.
Yet even among them, most were barely C-rank, sometimes B-rank if fate was generous.
A-plus.
An absurd grade.
A constitution that many sects would slaughter villages for.
"…And you wasted it," I muttered quietly.
Fear had hollowed him out long before his brothers' blades ever reached him.
The screen shifted again.
[A gift has been delivered.]
[Would the host like to check it?]
A gift.
So that was the so-called compensation.
I did not immediately respond.
Systems did not give gifts without reason.
In my previous life, nothing labeled "free" ever was.
"Show me," I said at last.
The interface expanded, revealing a new panel.
[Claimable Rewards]
S-Rank Breathing Technique
A-Rank Body Constitution
For the first time, my expression changed.
Only slightly.
S-rank.
In this entire world, fewer than five S-rank techniques were known to exist. Each one was treated as a divine inheritance, capable of defining an era or destroying one.
They were not traded.
They were not shared.
They were monopolized, hidden, sealed away by bloodlines and sects that feared what would happen if such power spread.
And now—
One was being offered to me casually.
"Interesting," I murmured.
In the upper realms—if such places truly existed—perhaps S-rank techniques were more common. But here, in this world?
This was excessive.
Dangerously so.
As for the body constitution, any enhancement was valuable. Lucian's original constitution, while rare, had been undeveloped and unused.
After a brief pause, I spoke.
"Claim."
There was no dramatic response.
[Reward Claimed.]
New text surfaced.
[Star Breathing Technique (S)]
Greatly increases mana absorption efficiency.
Under starlight, cultivation speed increases two to three times.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
Night cultivation.
Hidden cultivation.
A technique designed for secrecy.
"…Convenient," I said quietly.
Then came the second reward.
[All-Elemental Body]
The host may wield any elemental magic, provided it falls under elemental classification.
My fingers tightened slightly.
Versatility without restriction.
No elemental affinity limitations.
No compatibility barriers.
This constitution alone placed me beyond ordinary genius.
"With this," I thought calmly, "surpassing my brothers within a year is possible."
But possibility was not safety.
Power did not guarantee survival.
In noble families, power invited assassination long before it could be displayed openly.
The Valemont household was a nest of knives.
Servants, guards, attendants—each one answered to someone else. Each whisper traveled upward, sideways, downward.
Lucian Valemont had survived seventeen years precisely because he was considered harmless.
If that perception shattered too soon, he wouldn't last a month.
"With this many eyes on me," I muttered, "even breathing wrong could get me killed."
Cultivating openly was impossible.
Even attempting to cultivate would send ripples through the household. Tutors would be notified. Elders informed. Brothers alerted.
And then—
An "accident."
"…Timing," I said quietly.
Timing was everything.
Then memory surfaced.
"…Right. It's around now."
An opportunity.
A narrow one.
But real.
I could not afford to hesitate.
I turned toward the door.
"Edward."
The response was immediate.
The door opened silently.
An old man stepped inside, white hair neatly combed, beard trimmed, dressed in plain black servant attire. His posture was humble. His gaze lowered.
Edward.
Officially, my personal attendant.
Unofficially, my observer.
The man assigned to record my every movement and report it to the higher branches of the Valemont family.
"Yes, young master," he said calmly.
I studied him.
Lucian's memories painted Edward as ever-present—quiet, attentive, unavoidable. He spoke little. Asked no unnecessary questions.
The perfect watcher.
"I'm going out," I said evenly. "Prepare the carriage. Bring money."
Edward paused.
Only for a fraction of a second.
"Yes, young master," he replied. "I shall prepare it immediately."
As he turned to leave, his eyes flicked toward me—briefly.
Not suspicion.
Confusion.
Lucian Valemont rarely left his room.
He avoided the mansion corridors. Avoided servants. Avoided sunlight.
Yet today—
His posture was straight.
His voice was steady.
There was no fear trembling beneath his words.
Edward recalled yesterday's news.
The heir-selection duel.
Perhaps fear had reached its limit and collapsed into calm resignation.
After some time, I stood at the mansion gates.
The carriage arrived.
I entered first. Edward followed, seating himself opposite me. The driver adjusted the reins, glancing back respectfully.
"Destination, young master?"
I did not answer immediately.
The carriage stood still.
Then I spoke.
"Take us to the district where the poorest live," I said. "Where beggars gather."
Silence.
The driver stiffened.
Edward's gaze lifted for the first time.
Lucian Valemont never left the mansion.
He barely left his room.
And now—
He was heading to the filthiest, lowest part of the region.
"…As you command," the driver finally said.
The carriage began to move.
Edward lowered his gaze once more, but his thoughts churned.
This was not fear.
This was intent.
And intent was far more dangerous.
As the mansion faded behind us, I leaned back slightly.
This was not charity.
This was not curiosity.
The beggar district was invisible.
Ignored.
Unrecorded.
Perfect.
If I wanted to cultivate without being noticed…
If I wanted to test my constitution…
If I wanted to move beyond Lucian Valemont without alerting the Valemont family—
That place was the only starting point.
The carriage rolled onward.
And for the first time since arriving in this world—
I felt the faint outline of survival take shape.