The first year of my new life was hell.
Not because of anything dramatic—no assassins, no evil plots, nothing like that. It was hell because I was stuck in a baby's body with a fully functional adult brain.
Imagine knowing calculus but not being able to hold a spoon. Understanding complex physics but drooling on yourself. Having brilliant ideas and only being able to communicate through crying.
Yeah. Frustrating didn't even begin to cover it.
But I used the time wisely.
Every day, I observed. The servants who changed my diapers and fed me talked constantly, giving me information about the duchy, the empire, current events. I learned that Emperor Thaddeus IV ruled the Asterian Empire with an iron fist. That tensions with the elven kingdoms were rising over border disputes. That dungeons had been appearing more frequently in the past decade, and adventurer deaths were climbing.
I also watched my family carefully.
Father—Duke Casimir—was a tall man with iron-gray hair and a perpetual scowl. He visited my nursery maybe once a week, looked at me for thirty seconds, grunted something about "acceptable growth," and left. Cold didn't describe him. He was like a glacier wearing fancy clothes.
Mother was different. Duchess Elara had gentle hands and a soft voice. She spent hours with me, singing lullabies in a language that my system translated automatically. She genuinely cared, which made me feel guilty about my plans to eventually disappear.
My brothers were... complicated.
Cedric, the eldest, was already being groomed as the heir. At seven years old, he carried himself like a miniature duke. Stiff. Formal. He looked at me the same way Father did—as an object to be catalogued, not a person.
Brennan, five years old, was warmer. He'd poke his head into the nursery sometimes and make faces at me, trying to get me to laugh. I'd give him a little smile, careful not to seem too aware. Even at five, he was sharp. I couldn't risk him noticing something off about me.
The system stayed quiet most of the time. But I could feel it there, like background software running in my mind. Every time I heard someone speak, understanding came instantly. When I watched the maids light candles with basic fire magic, I somehow knew the principle behind it—mana channeled through specific mental patterns, converted to elemental energy.
My comprehension ability was passive but constant.
At six months old, I gained control of my body enough to start experimenting.
It happened at night, when everyone was asleep. The nursery was dark except for moonlight streaming through the window. I lay in my crib, focusing on my hand.
Move. Just move properly.
My fingers twitched. Then curled. It took fifteen minutes of concentration, but I managed to make a fist.
Progress.
Every night after that, I worked on motor control. Rolling over. Sitting up. Grasping objects. Things normal babies did randomly, I did with purpose. During the day, I acted appropriately helpless. At night, I trained.
By eight months, I could crawl. By ten months, I took my first steps—but only when alone.
The system chimed when I turned one year old.
[MILESTONE REACHED: AGE 1]
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: MANA SENSE]
[DESCRIPTION: Host can now perceive mana in the environment and within living beings. This is the foundation for all magic use.]
Suddenly, the world changed.
I could see it—threads of light flowing through the air, invisible to normal sight but clear as day to my new sense. Blue and white streams of energy drifted like slow-moving rivers. They were everywhere. In the walls, the furniture, the air itself.
And inside me.
A small pool of mana rested in my chest, maybe the size of a marble. Tiny compared to what I sensed in the adults around me, but it was there. Growing slowly day by day.
So this is mana.
I spent weeks just observing it. Watching how it moved, how it concentrated in certain areas, how people unconsciously drew it in when they breathed. The maids who used basic magic had decent pools. The guards had less—they focused on physical training. Mother had a large, gentle pool that glowed with soft green light.
Father's mana was like a storm. Dark red and violent, barely contained. I felt it from three rooms away when he was angry.
At fifteen months, I started trying to manipulate my own mana.
The first attempts were disasters.
I'd try to move the energy in my chest, and it would just... slosh around uselessly. Like trying to grab water with your bare hands. Frustrating. But I kept at it, every single night.
The breakthrough came at eighteen months.
I was lying in my crib, practicing as usual, when I remembered something from my previous life. Meditation techniques I'd learned from a wellness app during a particularly stressful project. Breathing exercises. Visualization.
I tried applying those principles to mana manipulation.
Breathe in slowly. Imagine the mana moving with the breath. Breathe out. Guide it in a circle through my body.
It worked.
The mana responded, flowing through my chest in a small loop. It felt warm and tingly, like drinking hot chocolate on a winter day. I kept the circulation going for five minutes before exhaustion forced me to stop.
But I'd done it. Controlled mana for the first time.
[SKILL ACQUIRED: BASIC MANA CIRCULATION]
[EFFECT: Increases mana pool size and recovery rate through regular practice. Foundation for all advanced magic techniques.]
From that night on, I practiced mana circulation religiously. An hour every night, sometimes more. The mana pool in my chest grew from marble-sized to golf ball-sized. Then bigger.
I was careful never to use actual magic where anyone could see. No fireballs, no water spheres, nothing flashy. Just internal cultivation. Building my foundation.
During the day, I started acting more like a normal toddler. Walking openly. Babbling simple words. "Mama" and "Dada" and "hungry." Basic stuff that wouldn't raise suspicion.
Mother was delighted. Father grunted approval.
Brennan, now six years old, became my unofficial playmate. He'd bring toys to my room and we'd roll a ball back and forth. Simple kid stuff. But I watched how he moved, how he unconsciously channeled tiny amounts of mana to boost his strength and speed even during play.
Everyone here uses mana naturally, even without formal training. It's instinctive.
That gave me ideas.
At two years old, I could speak in full sentences, though I deliberately kept my vocabulary simple. I could run, climb, and had the motor control of a normal child. Better, actually, because of my adult mind guiding every movement.
My mana pool had grown to the size of an orange. Respectable for my age, maybe even advanced, but nothing that would raise alarms yet.
I also started listening more carefully to the tutors who came to teach Cedric and Brennan. They studied in a room down the hall, and if I pressed my ear to the wall, I could hear the lessons.
History. Geography. Mathematics. Magic theory.
My comprehension ability devoured it all.
I learned that the Asterian Empire covered roughly the size of Europe, divided into dozens of duchies and counties. Five major kingdoms surrounded it—the Elven Concord to the west, the Dwarven Holds in the north, the Beastkin Clans to the south, the Free Cities along the eastern coast, and the Demon Wastes far to the southeast, sealed by ancient barriers.
Magic ranked from F-tier (barely functional) to SSS-tier (legendary, world-shaking power). Most people never got past D-tier. Reaching B-tier made you notable. A-tier made you a powerhouse. S-tier and above? Those were heroes and monsters.
Affinity determined your starting point and theoretical maximum. Someone with fire affinity could learn fire magic easily but would struggle with water. Multiple affinities were rare and valuable.
The magic test at age five measured both affinity type and strength. A crystal would glow different colors based on your elements, and the brightness indicated potential.
I had three years until my test.
Three years to prepare my disguise.
At age three, I made my first real breakthrough.
I'd been thinking about the problem of hiding my true abilities. The magic crystal test was apparently very accurate—it measured your actual mana pool and affinity directly. I couldn't just pretend to be weak; I needed to actually suppress my power temporarily.
In my old world, we had signal dampening technology. Radio frequency jammers. Faraday cages. Concepts that blocked or redirected energy.
Could I apply similar principles to mana?
I spent two months working on the theory. Testing tiny adjustments to my mana circulation. What if, instead of just moving mana through my body, I created a pattern that... contained it? Compressed it? Hid it from external detection?
The experiments were slow. Tedious. I could only work at night, and each test required careful attention to avoid damaging my own mana pathways.
But my infinite comprehension ability meant that every failure taught me something. Every mistake revealed new information about how mana worked.
Finally, one night, I succeeded.
I'd created a circulation pattern that folded my mana back on itself, creating layers. Like wrapping a bright light in dark cloth over and over until only a dim glow showed through. My mana pool didn't shrink—it was still there, still growing—but from the outside, it would appear much smaller.
[SKILL CREATED: MANA SUPPRESSION TECHNIQUE]
[RANK: UNIQUE]
[EFFECT: Hides true mana pool size and affinity from external detection. User can adjust suppression level from 10% to 99%. Warning: Extended use may slow cultivation speed.]
I grinned in the darkness of my room.
Perfect.
With this, I could fake being weak at the affinity test. Show minimal talent. Get written off as the disappointing third son.
But the technique had another benefit I hadn't expected. Compressing my mana made the circulation harder, which meant my cultivation improved faster. It was like training with weights—when I released the suppression, my actual power felt lighter and more responsive.
I practiced the technique for months, getting used to maintaining it constantly. Making it second nature.
At age four, my training intensified.
Mother started teaching me basic letters and numbers, proud of how quickly I picked things up. I made sure to act impressed and struggle just enough to seem normal.
Cedric, now ten, had awakened his magic affinity the previous year. Fire and earth, both B-tier. Father had been pleased. Cedric now trained with private tutors in magic and swordsmanship, preparing to eventually inherit the duchy.
Brennan's test was coming up soon. He was excited, talking constantly about becoming an adventurer. Father disapproved—second sons were meant to support the heir or join the military, not run off chasing dungeons.
I kept my head down and continued my secret training.
My mana pool had grown to the size of a cantaloupe. Massive for a four-year-old. If anyone detected it, they'd mark me as a prodigy immediately.
But with my suppression technique active, it appeared to be the size of a grape. Barely functional. Perfect.
I also started experimenting with actual magic.
Late at night, in my locked room, I'd practice creating tiny flames above my palm. Moving small amounts of water. Lifting pebbles with earth magic. Nothing big enough to be detected by the wards around the castle, but enough to understand the principles.
My comprehension ability made learning magic almost absurdly easy. Where normal students spent weeks understanding a single spell formation, I grasped it in minutes. The logic, the structure, the mana flow—it all made sense.
Fire magic is about exciting mana particles to generate heat and combustion. Water magic is about gathering ambient moisture and giving it form. Earth magic is manipulating the crystalline structure of minerals.
Understanding the science behind it helped tremendously.
I created my first original spell at four and a half years old.
It was simple—a basic cleansing spell that removed dirt and stains from fabric. I'd gotten tired of the servants always fussing over my clothes, and figured a cleaning spell would be useful later.
The traditional version required a complex magic circle and chanting. Mine? I stripped it down to pure mana manipulation. No circle, no chant. Just will and understanding.
[ORIGINAL SPELL CREATED: PURIFY]
[RANK: F]
[EFFECT: Removes dirt, stains, and minor contaminants from objects. Range: Touch. Cost: Minimal mana.]
It wasn't impressive by magical standards. But it proved I could create spells from scratch by understanding principles instead of just copying formations.
This is my real advantage. Not raw power, but comprehension. I can innovate.
That realization changed everything.
I stopped focusing solely on building my mana pool and started studying magic theory more deeply. How spells worked. Why certain formations were efficient and others wasteful. What made the difference between good magic and great magic.
The answer was always the same: understanding.
Mages who truly understood their element could perform better magic with less mana. Master fire mages didn't just throw bigger fireballs—they controlled temperature precisely, creating flames that burned hotter with less fuel.
And I can understand anything given enough time.
Six months before my fifth birthday, Brennan took his affinity test.
The whole family gathered in the castle's main hall. A representative from the Magic Association had brought the testing crystal—a basketball-sized orb that glowed faintly even while inactive.
I watched from Mother's arms, pretending to be only mildly interested.
Brennan stepped forward, nervous but excited. He placed both hands on the crystal.
It flared bright blue and brown. Water and earth, both C-tier.
Father nodded, satisfied. "Acceptable. You'll train as a battle mage for the duchy guard."
Brennan's face fell slightly—he'd wanted higher ranks, dreamed of being an adventurer—but he bowed. "Yes, Father."
The Magic Association representative marked it down in his ledger and left.
That night, I heard Brennan crying in his room.
I felt bad for him. He was a good kid, just born into a family that saw children as assets rather than people. But I couldn't help him. Not without revealing myself.
Just six more months. Then I'll fail the test, get sent away, and I can start building my own future.
As my fifth birthday approached, I made my final preparations.
I'd perfected my suppression technique to the point where I could maintain it even while asleep. My apparent mana pool would register as barely F-tier. Pathetic for a duke's son.
I'd also prepared mentally for what came next. The banishment. Faking my death. Escaping to start my kingdom.
It sounded simple when I thought about it like that.
But actually doing it? That would be the real test.
The night before my birthday, I lay in bed and reviewed everything I'd learned over five years.
Magic systems. Political structure. Geography. Languages. Combat theory. Economics. The properties of different monsters and materials.
I'd absorbed knowledge like a sponge, thanks to my comprehension ability.
Tomorrow, I'd pretend to be worthless.
And then the real game would begin.