Six months.
That's how long Caelum had been stuck in this prison of blankets and boredom.
Being a baby was, without a doubt, the most agonizing gameplay mechanic he had ever encountered. The lack of agency was driving him insane. He knew the optimal strategy for conquering a kingdom; he knew the elemental weakness of a Fire Dragon; he knew the market value of Mithril ore.
But he couldn't sit up without falling over.
Core strength is trash, Caelum critiqued internally. He was currently lying on his stomach in the center of the wooden crib his father, Garret, had built. It was sturdy oak, which was good, because Caelum was currently using the bars to do pull-ups.
Well, "pull-ups" was a generous term. It was more like "desperate clutching."
His tiny hands, clumsy and dimpled, gripped the wooden slats. He gritted his gums (still no teeth) and pulled.
Hnnngh.
His arms trembled. His face turned a shade of tomato red.
Strength Check: Failed.
He collapsed back onto the mattress, panting.
Pathetic, he scolded himself. My Strength is still stuck at 0.4. I need to hit 0.5 before I can reliably crawl without looking like a wounded seal.
He checked his logs.
Daily Routine:
Respiration Grinding (Passive): Active.
Sensory Meditation (Mana Perception): 4 hours.
Physical Conditioning (Flailing): 2 hours.
It wasn't enough. The [Hell Mode] penalty was brutal. In six months, a Normal player would probably be walking by now. Caelum was barely dragging himself across the sheets.
The door to the hut creaked open.
Alert. Mob incoming.
Caelum immediately ceased his workout. He rolled onto his back, grabbed his toes, and widened his eyes.
Execute Protocol: Adorable Infant.
Garret walked in, covered in grime and smelling of sawdust. He looked exhausted. The lines around his eyes were deeper than they had been six months ago. He walked over to the crib and peered down.
Caelum let out a strategic gurgle and waved a chubby fist.
"Hey there, little man," Garret smiled, the tension in his shoulders melting away instantly. "You awake? Did you miss your old man?"
I missed the potential protein you might be carrying, Caelum thought, though he offered a toothless smile. Did you bring food? Or perhaps a weapon I can inspect?
Garret reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, roughly carved wooden object. It looked vaguely like a horse, if you squinted and had never seen a horse before.
"Made this for you during break," Garret said softly, placing the toy in the crib.
Caelum stared at the wooden horse.
Item Analysis, he thought.
[Crude Wooden Toy] Quality: Poor Weight: 0.3 lbs Durability: 5/5
0.3 pounds.
Caelum's eyes lit up. It was perfect. It was heavy enough to provide resistance but light enough to lift. It wasn't a toy; it was a dumbbell.
He grabbed the horse with both hands and lifted it over his head, then lowered it to his chest. Up. Down. Up. Down.
"Look at that!" Garret laughed, turning to call over his shoulder. "Elena! Come look! He loves it! He's playing with it already!"
Elena wiped her hands on her apron as she entered. She looked thinner, too. The harvest must have been bad. Caelum had noticed the milk was tasting different lately—less fat, more water.
"He's strong," Elena said, leaning against Garret. "He grips things like he never wants to let go."
I'm doing bench presses, woman. Caelum thought, cranking out his fifth rep. Don't interrupt the set.
"We need that strength," Garret murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper that he clearly thought the baby wouldn't understand. "The Baron raised the grain tax again. Ten percent more than last year."
Caelum's movement paused. The wooden horse hovered in mid-air.
Taxes?
"They say it's for the war effort in the North," Elena replied, her voice tight with worry. "But if we give them ten percent more... Garret, we won't have enough seed for next spring."
Garret sighed, reaching down to stroke Caelum's head. Caelum tolerated the head-pat, realizing this was a serious cutscene.
"We'll manage," Garret said, though he didn't sound convinced. "I'll take extra shifts at the mill. I won't let Caelum go hungry."
Caelum lowered the wooden horse slowly.
Political instability, he analyzed. The local Lord is squeezing the peasantry. If the household economy collapses, my nutrition drops. If my nutrition drops, my stat growth stalls.
This was a problem. He was a Level 1 Druid who couldn't walk, trapped in a house that was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.
He looked at his parents. They were terrified. They were starving themselves to keep him fed.
Something tugged at Caelum's chest that wasn't related to his respiratory grinding. It was annoyance. No, it was anger.
Inefficient governance, Caelum decided cold-heartedly. Killing the workforce to fund a war is bad strategy. The Baron is an idiot.
He looked at the wooden horse in his hands.
I need to level up faster.
He couldn't fight the Baron. He couldn't pay the taxes. But he could make sure he wasn't a burden.
He looked at Garret and let out a determined squeak. Then, he lifted the horse again.
One more set, Caelum thought furiously. Until failure.
[Strength has increased by 0.01]
It was a start.