Chapter 1: The Devouring Twin
The first five years passed in a blur of sensation, discovery, and profound, almost maddening frustration—a purgatory of consciousness trapped in flesh too weak to even hold up its own head.
Being an infant with a fully conscious adult mind was a special kind of torture. My body was a weak, uncoordinated puppet, my nervous system a chaotic, untuned instrument. My vocal cords produced only gurgles and cries that betrayed none of the complex thoughts screaming behind them. Sleep, that thief of time, claimed me for what felt like eighteen hours a day. Yet, through it all, my mind was awake, observing, cataloguing, and planning with a clarity that made the physical helplessness all the more agonizing.
My first confirmed observation, beyond the overwhelming love of Zenith and the boisterous affection of Paul, was this: Rudeus was also awake in there.
It wasn't obvious. Not to any normal observer. But to another prisoner in the same existential jail, the signs were clear. The way his crying would sometimes cut off with a suspiciously thoughtful pause mid-wail, as if he'd remembered crying was beneath his dignity. The intense, too-focused stare he'd give a sunbeam slicing through the nursery dust or a floating mote of lint, his infant eyes tracking it with an analytical precision that spoke of a mind measuring trajectories and refractive indices. The occasional, clumsy attempt to grab at Zenith's hair or Paul's nose with a coordination that seemed to exceed normal infant development—a reach that was more intention than reflex.
We were crib-mates, literally and figuratively. We'd lie there for hours, swaddled side-by-side in the cozy wooden crib, two ancient souls trapped in potato-shaped prisons, communicating through burps, coos, and the occasional meaningful glare across the short, blanket-filled divide. I'd catch him watching me sometimes, a flicker of evaluation in those blue-grey eyes. What are you? that look seemed to ask. Just a baby, or something more?
I decided early on not to force a revelation. The last thing I needed was a panicked, hyper-analytical Rudeus Greyrat dissecting my every move before I had any power to defend myself or explain. Let him think I was just a precocious baby, perhaps slightly more observant than most. For now, silence and observation were my weapons.
Our parents were… wonderfully, painfully normal. Paul, despite the future flaws I knew lurked beneath his jovial exterior, was a doting, if slightly overwhelmed, father of twins. His hands, calloused from sword practice, were surprisingly gentle as he'd juggle us both, one in each massive arm, telling us exaggerated stories of his adventures as a knight of the Asura Kingdom. His voice was a comforting rumble against my tiny ear. He'd make silly faces, his bright green eyes crinkling, and his booming laugh would shake my whole world. Zenith was the picture of gentle, steadfast love. Her singing as she rocked us to sleep was the most peaceful sound I had ever known—a lullaby in this strange, melodic language that my mind was already deconstructing. Her scent—of fresh bread, lavender, and clean linen—was the scent of safety. The bitter sting of my past life's cosmic error, the void where a name and history should be, never fully vanished, but this warmth, this uncomplicated belonging, acted as a powerful balm.
---
My first test of my unique gifts came before I could even crawl, a stark reminder that the "Laplace Factor of Devouring" was not some abstract concept, but a living, hungry thing inside me.
It was a chill, late-autumn afternoon. A rat, sleek and grey with beady, intelligent eyes, found its way into the nursery through a gap in the old stone foundation. It snuffled along the baseboard, a creature of pure, simple instinct. From my crib, I watched it. And the Hunger stirred.
It wasn't a voice, more a primal impulse, a deep-seated cellular curiosity that vibrated up from the core of my being. Analyze. Consume. Integrate. The urge was visceral, a hollow feeling not in my stomach, but in the very code of my cells.
As the rat scurried closer to the leg of the crib, a faint, translucent red haze, invisible to anyone but me, seemed to emanate from its small form. A tag, almost like a game UI, flickered into existence in my vision: [Common Sewer Rat - Lv. 0]. So, some system aspects were passively active, even before the full interface manifested. The tag pulsed with a soft, enticing glow. The Hunger wanted it.
I had no teeth to speak of, no mobility. But the impulse was overwhelming, a composure-shattering need. I focused on the rat, on that red haze, and willed a connection. I imagined a thread, a hook, a vacuum—anything to bridge the gap between my latent power and its mundane life force.
Something clicked inside me. A thread of invisible energy, thinner than a spider's silk and the color of dried blood, lashed out from my chest and touched the rat.
The effect was immediate and chilling. The creature froze mid-step, twitched once violently as if electrocuted, and collapsed. Its body seemed to deflate slightly, its sleek grey fur turning ashen and dull in an instant. A tiny, almost imperceptible wisp of reddish energy traveled back along the thread and into me.
A warmth, subtle but distinct, spread through my limbs. Nothing dramatic—no surge of strength, no flash of light. But I felt… sturdier. My heartbeat, previously a rapid, fragile flutter in my tiny chest, gained a hint of solidity, a more resonant thump. A notification, not visual but felt in the very marrow of my bones, brushed my consciousness: [Assimilated Minor Trait: 'Rodent's Resilience' - Slight resistance to common diseases and toxins.]
So, I could absorb essence through proximity and will, not just physical consumption. That was a profound relief. The thought of baby-me trying to gnaw on a rat was horrifying on multiple levels. The range and potency were clearly pathetic now—I doubted I could affect anything more than a few feet away or anything with a stronger life force—but it was a start. The engine had turned over. The Laplace Factor of Devouring was online.
The Dual Cursed Techniques were quieter tenants. In moments of intense frustration—when my body refused to obey a simple command to roll over—or startling joy—when Zenith's smile seemed to light the whole room—I'd feel a weird duality in my chest. A cold, heavy knot of potential in one space, dense and patient like a black hole. And in another, a warm, buzzing point of light, frantic and eager. They were there, sleeping, tied to a mana pool that was, for now, a dried-up well. I could sense their shape: one of absolute, entropic negation, and one of boundless, creative potential. Opposites. Mine to wield. Eventually.
---
Physical and mental development became my grinding quests, the only way to stave off the madness of immobility. The moment I could weakly support my own head, I started trying to force my body into basic, systematic exercises. Tummy time became core training, each second of holding my head aloft a victory. Reaching for a brightly painted rattle was dexterity and strength practice, my fingers curling with agonizing slowness around the smooth wood. It was a war of attrition against my own biology.
Rudeus, in the crib beside me, seemed to be waging the same war. I'd see him straining to lift his head longer than necessary, his face turning red with effort, his eyes blazing with a terrifying, familiar focus. He'd stare at his own splayed fingers as if they were complex machinery he was learning to pilot. A silent, infantile competition had begun, a race neither of us could acknowledge aloud. I won my first victory by managing to roll from my back to my stomach a full three days before he did. The look of sheer, incredulous frustration on his tiny face was a prize in itself.
Language was the first major breakthrough, the key to the prison. Zenith and Paul spoke a lyrical, fantasy-tinged version of Japanese. I drank it in, cross-referencing every word, every grammatical structure, with the database of my past life. My mind, unburdened by the need to learn object permanence or object identification, focused solely on syntax, vocabulary, and phonetics. By eight months, I could understand almost everything they said in daily life. By a year, I was deliberately mimicking words, carefully selecting syllables that would seem advanced but not unnatural.
"Ma-ma," I said one day, clear as a bell, reaching for Zenith as she changed my linens.
She froze, then her face crumpled. She burst into tears of joy, sweeping me into a hug so tight and warm I thought I might dissolve into it. "Paul! Paul, he said 'Mama'! He said it!"
Paul, who had been juggling a fussy Rudeus, looked impressed. "Hah! Smart lad! Takes after his father's sharp wit!" He hoisted Rudeus up. "What about you, little man? Can you say 'Papa'? Come on, 'Pa-pa'."
Rudeus, suspended in Paul's grip, looked intensely into his father's face. I saw the calculation in his eyes, the weighing of options. He opened his mouth. What came out was not the baby-talk reduplication Paul sought, but a perfectly articulated, if high-pitched and baby-voiced, "Fa-fa."
Not 'Papa'. 'Father'.
Paul blinked. The joviality on his face stuttered. Zenith's tears of joy slowed, replaced by a flicker of confusion. I, buried in Zenith's shoulder, almost laughed a milk bubble. Oh, buddy. Too much, too soon. You're trying to skip the tutorial.
Rudeus seemed to realize his mistake instantly, his eyes going wide with a panic that was profoundly un-babylike. He backtracked, defaulting to a clumsy, "Pa-pa! Pa!"
The moment passed. Paul's booming laugh returned, a little forced. "Well, 'Fa-fa' is a big word for you! We'll work on 'Papa', eh?" But the glance he shared with Zenith was laden with a new, bewildered curiosity. The line had been drawn in the sand of the nursery floor. We were both players here, and we had just glimpsed each other's avatars.
---
The years rolled on. We learned to crawl—a chaotic, hilarious scramble that often ended in collisions. We learned to walk—a race I won by two days, my early, secret Assimilation bonuses to coordination and vitality giving me a slight edge. The sound of Rudeus grumbling under his breath in perfect, quiet Japanese as he watched me take my first wobbly solo steps across the room was a symphony.
We began to speak in full, if simple, sentences, carefully censoring our vocabulary to land in the zone of "precocious" rather than "reincarnated sociopath." We played together with wooden blocks, but our play was different. Castles didn't just get built; they were engineered with rudimentary buttresses and gatehouses. Battles with toy knights weren't just clashing; they involved feints, flanking maneuvers, and silent debates over the rules of engagement. It was a partnership and a cold war, all wrapped in the innocent guise of sibling play.
I tested my Assimilation carefully, methodically, like a scientist cataloguing a new ecosystem. A house spider, cornered in the bath, yielded [Minor Trait: 'Passive Wall-crawling Sense' - Slight improved spatial awareness while climbing.] It wasn't spider-man powers, but the next time I clambered onto a stool, I had an innate, better feel for balance and grip. A songbird that died of natural causes in the garden, its tiny body still warm, gave [Minor Trait: 'Faint Breeze Affinity' - Slightly reduced air resistance while moving.] It made running in the wind a fraction easier, my movements a hint more fluid.
They were negligible bonuses, stacking slowly, invisibly. A point of VIT here, a fraction of DEX there. I was a magpie collecting biological trinkets, building a foundation of mundane resilience. I avoided anything that might be noticed. No absorbing the family cat or a chicken from the yard. Small, insignificant creatures only. The goal was accumulation, not transformation.
My relationship with Rudeus was complex, a tapestry woven with threads of camaraderie, suspicion, and unspoken understanding. We were brothers, twins who had shared a womb. We were fellow outsiders, the only two people in the world who understood the profound weirdness of our situation. We shared knowing looks when Paul said something especially boneheaded about magic (which he knew little about) or when Zenith fussed over us in a way that was both endearing and stifling. We developed a silent language of gestures, raised eyebrows, and slight nods to communicate simple concepts under our parents' radar: He's in a mood. She's coming. Pretend to be sleepy.
But there was a wall, thick and high. He was Rudeus Greyrat, the genius mage-in-training, the man from another world with a past full of regret and a specific, burning focus. I was… someone else. A stranger with my own agenda, a suite of powers that would seem utterly alien and possibly terrifying to him, and a destiny I was only beginning to map. For now, peaceful coexistence and mutual non-interference was the only sane policy. The unspoken treaty held: you don't pry into my secrets, and I won't pry into yours.
---
The day of my fifth birthday dawned bright and clear, the air in Buina village sweet with the smell of blooming early-summer flowers and rich, tilled earth. I'd felt a building anticipation for weeks, a digital clock counting down in my soul, a pressure behind my eyes that grew with each passing day. The system was a chrysalis, and today was the day it was meant to hatch.
The family celebration was warm and simple. Zenith baked a honey cake. Paul presented us both with small, expertly carved wooden practice swords—mine had a lion's head pommel, Rudeus's a stylized book. Rudeus, of course, immediately began examining the balance and grain of the wood with a craftsman's eye. I just held mine, feeling its weight, already thinking of it as a tool for a future [Swordsmanship] skill.
But my mind was elsewhere. As twilight painted the sky in bands of orange, purple, and deep blue, I finally slipped away. I claimed I needed to "pee," a excuse no one questions from a five-year-old, and found my way to a quiet spot behind the thick oak woodshed, away from the warm glow of the house's windows. The grass was cool and damp with evening dew. Crickets had begun their nightly symphony. This was it.
I sat down, cross-legged, my wooden sword across my lap. I took a deep, centering breath, the scent of soil and pine filling my lungs. I closed my eyes and focused inward. I reached past the childish thoughts, past the constant hum of observation, past the quiet gnaw of the Hunger, and sought the dormant framework, the promised architecture of rules and numbers. I willed it to life.
PING.
A sound, clean, digital, and utterly foreign to this world, echoed in the silent chamber of my mind. It was the sound of a connection being made, a circuit completing.
Before my eyes, even closed, a blue, semi-transparent screen materialized. It was crisp, beautiful, and elegantly simple. Text scrolled with a smooth, silent grace.
<< System Initialization Complete! >>
<< Welcome, Player! >>
<< Loading World Parameters… Syncing with Local Mana Field… >>
<< Synchronization Successful. Integrating 'Six-Faced World' Lore & Physics. >>
<< Congratulations! You have reached Level 1! >>
A flood of information, intuitive and overwhelming, cascaded into my perception. It wasn't painful, but it was immense—like suddenly being able to see a new color. Windows and menus hovered at the edges of my vision, customizable and dismissible with a thought. I focused first on the core.
STATUS
Name: [Leon] Greyrat (Twin Eldest)
Age: 5
Title: The Devouring Twin
Level: 1
Experience: 0/100
Traits: Rodent's Resilience (Minor), Passive Wall-crawling Sense (Minor), Faint Breeze Affinity (Minor)
HP: 120/120
MP: 15/15
STR: 8
VIT: 11 (+1 from Assimilation)
DEX: 9 (+0.5 from Assimilation)
INT: 15
WIS: 14
LUCK: 10
<< Points to Allocate: 5 >>
A surge of triumph warmed me. My secret Assimilation grind had already borne fruit, giving me small but real boosts to VIT and DEX. The foundation was laid. I pondered the allocation. This wasn't a game where I could respec. Every point mattered. INT was crucial for mana, magic power, and likely system-related skills. VIT was survival—HP, stamina, resilience. DEX was accuracy, speed, finesse. After a moment's deliberation, I allocated: +2 to INT, +2 to VIT, +1 to DEX. The numbers on the screen updated smoothly. My MP pool ticked up to 19, and I felt a subtle, grounding solidity in my body, a slight quickness in my fingers.
SKILLS
Listed:
· Language Comprehension (Human-Tongue): Lv. 4
· Spatial Awareness: Lv. 2 (From Assimilation)
· Disease Resistance: Lv. 1 (From Assimilation)
· Observation: Lv. 3
· Stealth (Child): Lv. 1
INVENTORY
Slots: 10/50 (Expands with Level)
Contents: [Empty]
A conceptual space. Weight limit applies based on STR.
Then, a shimmering, gift-wrapped icon pulsed gently in the corner of my UI.
<< Starter Gift Package Available! >>
<< Open Y/N? >>
My heart hammered against my ribs. Open.
The package unwrapped itself in a flash of golden light only I could see.
<< Congratulations! >>
<< You have received: >>
· Item: [Ring of Mana Clarity] (Legendary) Increases MP regeneration by 50% and greatly sharpens mana sense.
· Skill Book: [Identify] (Common) Allows the user to glean basic information about objects, creatures, and materials. Cost: 1 MP per use.
· Currency: 100 System Points (SP)
· Title: [New Game+] Grants a 10% bonus to all experience gained.
I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my face. Perfect. Not game-breaking power, but perfect utility starters. The ring was the crown jewel. I willed it into existence. It appeared in my palm with a faint chime, a simple, elegant silver band with a tiny, flawlessly clear crystal set into it. I slipped it onto my right ring finger. It resized itself to fit perfectly. An immediate, faint coolness washed up my arm, and I felt the subtle drain of my minuscule MP pool slow, then begin to tick upwards at a perceptible rate. My awareness of the world seemed to sharpen; I could almost feel the latent, sleeping mana in the air, the earth, the wood of the shed—a faint, colorful static.
Next, I focused on the skill book icon. It dissolved into particles of light that flowed into my forehead. Knowledge settled into my mind—a simple incantation (optional), a mental focus pattern, and the understanding of the skill's cost and limits.
I picked up my wooden sword. "Identify." 1 MP vanished from my bar.
[Carved Practice Sword]
Quality: Crude
Material: Pine
Durability: 12/15
Effect: None. For training purposes.
Enhancement Potential: Low
Awesome. I turned my gaze to a line of ants marching along the foundation of the shed. "Identify." Another point of MP.
[Forest Ant - Lv. 0]
HP: 1/1
Threat: Negligible
Traits Available for Assimilation: [Insectoid Carapace (Microscopic)], [Collective Scent Tracking (Dormant)]
Note: Assimilation yield extremely low. Not recommended.
The system was interfacing seamlessly with my innate Devouring power, highlighting potential traits and even giving efficiency advice! This was far better, far more integrated than I'd dared hope.
Curious, I opened the SHOP interface. A vast, scrolling catalog unfolded in my mind's eye, categorized neatly: Bloodlines, Traits, Skills, Items, Cosmetic, Services. Most entries were greyed out, marked with tags like [Level Locked], [World-Lock: Concept Not Integrated], or [Prerequisite Not Met]. But I could browse, and the sight was breathtaking.
Bloodlines: [Dragon-Bloodline (Lesser)] - 700,000 SP | [High Elf Ancestry] - 1,200,000 SP | [Spirit Charmer's Legacy] - 450,000 SP
Traits: [Night Vision] - 200 SP | [Tough Skin (S+)] - 300 SP | [Mana Conduit (E)] - 5,000 SP
Skills: [Fireball] - 500 SP | [Sword Proficiency I] - 400 SP | [Waterball] - 500 SP | [Heal] - 800 SP | [Silent Step] - 350 SP
Items: [Health Potion (Minor)] - 50 SP | [Mana Crystal (Faint)] - 100 SP | [Bag of Holding (Tiny)] - 2,000 SP | [Enchanted Dagger +1] - 800 SP
My 100 SP was a pittance, a single copper coin in a dragon's hoard. But it was a start. I needed to earn more, and the QUEST menu seemed the likely path.
As if on cue, two new windows popped up, one after the other.
<< New Quest Generated! >>
Quest: First Steps to Power
Objective 1: Allocate your stat points. (Completed)
Objective 2: Use the Identify skill 10 times. (2/10)
Objective 3: Assimilate a new trait from a creature of Level 1 or higher.
Reward: 150 EXP, 50 SP, [Random Low-Grade Skill Book]
Failure: None.
<< Achievement Unlocked! >>
Achievement: System Online
Description: Successfully activate your Gamer System.
Reward: 50 EXP, 20 SP.
A warm, energizing surge flowed through me as the 50 EXP was awarded. My EXP bar, now visible in a neat, blue-glowing strip at the bottom of my UI, filled by a third. The 20 SP added to my total, bringing it to 120.
This was it. The tutorial was over. The grind began now. I had my interface, my starter tools, a path to growth, and a world of terrifying, wonderful possibilities laid out before me like an endless skill tree. I was no longer just a strangely aware child playing a careful game of pretend. I was a Player. A variable. A devourer in a world of magic.
I stood up, brushing the cool grass from my pants. From the house, I could hear the faint sound of Rudeus's voice, likely already badgering a patient Zenith or a bemused Paul with questions about magic theory or the principles of hydrostatics. He was on his path—the known path of the genius magician, the disciple of Roxy, the Quantum Physicist in a fantasy land.
My path was different. It was a path of menus and metrics, of consuming and adapting, of turning the very essence of this world into fuel for my ascent. It was the path of light forged from the heart of a murderous, conceptual black hole, and energy pulled from the void of its opposite. I looked at my small, five-year-old hands, pale in the twilight, then clenched them into determined fists. I could feel the new ring cool against my skin, the symbol of my new beginning.
A final, shimmering line of elegant script appeared at the edge of my vision, a system notification phrased not as a mechanic, but as a publisher's logo on the title screen of my new reality.
<< Welcome to the Six-Faced World. Good luck, Player. >>
I smiled, a real, unrestrained, and hungry smile for the first time in this new life. The shadows behind the woodshed deepened. The crickets sang. The game, in all its complexity and danger, was well and truly on.