Five years of being a toddler is, quite frankly, a special kind of hell for a man who used to spend his nights analyzing complex hydrocarbon chains and optimizing petrochemical catalysts. My new body was frustratingly inefficient. My motor skills were a joke, and my speech was—until recently—limited to simplistic demands for "More porridge" or "The big book."
But while my physical form lagged, my System—and my Aether Saturation—did not.
By my fifth birthday, I had finally cleared the [Survival of the Purest] quest. The reward wasn't just a screen; it was a fundamental shift in how I perceived the world. I no longer just saw "grass" or "dirt." I saw a shimmering lattice of molecular structures, color-coded by the System.
[Periodic Table of Elements: Magic Edition - UNLOCKED]
Current Focus: Mana-Enriched Carbon (C-14m)
Observation: The soil in the Veridian courtyard is 400% more nutrient-dense than standard geological averages.
I was currently sitting in a patch of "Star-Nettle," a plant that was supposed to be toxic to the touch. To me, it was just a fascinating source of concentrated alkaloids. My "Grandfather," a man everyone called Old Man Thorne, was humming a tuneless song nearby as he trimmed a hedge with a pair of rusty-looking shears.
Thorne was the "humble gardener" of the Veridian estate. To any outsider, he was a bent-backed old man with a bad hip. To my System, he was a flickering silhouette of pure, condensed kinetic energy. Every time those shears closed, they didn't just cut the leaves; they severed the space around the branch.
"Cyrus, lad," Thorne barked without turning around. "Stop trying to eat the Star-Nettle. Your mother will have my head if you break out in hives again."
"I'm not eating it, Grandfather," I said, my voice high and clear. "I'm just wondering why the nitrogen cycle in this patch is so... aggressive."
Thorne paused. He turned, leaning on his shears, and squinted at me. For a second, his eyes flashed with a sharp, silver light—the "Blade Saint" peeking through the gardener's mask. "Nitrogen? Cycles? You use big words for a boy who still needs help reaching the cookie jar."
"The plants are hungry," I simplified, pointing to a drooping Sun-Lily. "It's not that they lack water. The soil is too compact. The molecules—I mean, the tiny pieces of the earth—are stuck together. They need a catalyst."
I reached out and touched the soil. I didn't use "magic" in the traditional sense. Instead, I accessed the [Molecular Architect] interface.
[System Prompt]: Initiate 'Disruption of Ionic Bonds'?
Cost: 5 MP (Mana Points)
Result: Soil Aeration and Mineral Release.
I pushed my intent into the ground. I felt the tiny surge of Aether leave my fingertips. Under the surface, the clotted, heavy clay began to vibrate at a frequency invisible to the naked eye. The tight chemical bonds holding the soil in a suffocating grip shattered, leaving the earth light, airy, and rich with accessible minerals.
The Sun-Lily didn't just perk up; it visibly grew two inches in ten seconds, its petals glowing with a vibrant, unnatural gold.
Thorne stared at the lily. Then he looked at the ground. Then he looked at me. The air around him suddenly grew heavy—the pressure of a mountain suddenly resting on the garden.
"Did you just... talk the earth into moving, boy?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave.
"I just helped it breathe," I said, wiping my hands on my tunic. "Everything is just a puzzle of pieces, Grandfather. If you move the right piece, the whole picture changes."
Thorne didn't laugh. He walked over, his heavy boots making no sound on the now-loosened soil. He placed a hand on my head. I felt a probe of razor-sharp energy sweep through my body—it was the family's "Check-up." To his eyes, I probably looked like a normal child with a bit of talent. But I knew the System was masking my "Chemistry Lab" from his detection.
"You're a strange one, Usman-Cyrus," Thorne whispered. "Most children in this family want to break things. Your father shattered his first training dummy at age four. Your mother... well, we don't talk about the 'Incinerated Ballroom Incident' of her youth."
He looked back at the Sun-Lily, which was now radiating enough light to act as a lantern.
"But you," Thorne continued, a small, dangerous smile tugging at his lips. "You want to fix things. Or maybe, you just want to see how they're built. Just remember: in this world, knowing how a heart beats is the first step to knowing exactly where to stop it."
He went back to his trimming, but the speed of his shears had doubled. He was excited.
[Notification]
Title Gained: [The Prodigy of the Veridian Garden]
New Ability Unlocked: [Atomic Decomposition - Rank 1]
Warning: Do not use on living tissue until Int 50 is reached.
I watched him work, realizing that the "Hidden Strong Family" wasn't just a safety net. They were a benchmark. If I wanted to stand at the top of this world, I couldn't just be a chemist. I had to be an Alchemist of the Void.