Three Months Later…
Another three months have passed, and my understanding of this world's language has improved.
A lot has happened during that time—far more than before.
For starters, we had our first visitor. Apparently, he is the chief of this place.
While my mother held me in her arms, I listened closely to their conversation.
The chief asked whether I had any abnormalities, if I was healthy, and how I had been doing while living with them.
My mother, Rokari, told him that my teeth had started to come in and that I had said my first words a couple of days ago. It wasn't anything too impressive—all I said were "momma" and "papa," both through telepathy.
Yes, telepathy.
Recently, something seemed to click in my brain, and ever since then, I've been able to speak to my parents telepathically.
At first, they were a little shocked. However, small tears soon slid down their faces.
Seeing them crying, I reached out my small arms toward them, using my body language to ask if they were okay.
They quickly reassured me that they were.
Not long after, small smiles appeared on their faces. They were probably relieved that I could communicate with them the same way they communicated with each other.
"So he can use telepathy after all, huh?" the chief said, rubbing his chin.
"What do you mean by 'after all'?" Rowin asked, confused.
"I mean nothing bad by it. When he was found by the hunting party, we didn't know his race. But now, it seems we can assume he has some Migurd blood in him, allowing him to communicate telepathically," the chief explained.
"Oh… is that all? You scared us for a second." Rokari wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and let out a sigh of relief.
"Tell me if anything unusual occurs. You know where to find me."
After saying that, the chief left our small house.
***
Six Months Later…
Now one year old, I can say with confidence that I understand this world's language fairly well—though I still can't read or write in it.
In fact, I can't even remember the last time I spoke out loud. I've been relying entirely on telepathy to communicate.
Recently, my parents, Rowin and Rokari, finally started taking me outside. And all I can say is—wow.
I used to think the roof of our house looked strange, but now I understand why—it's made from the shell of a giant tortoise.
"Come along, Draven," my mother called out to me as she began leading me somewhere.
A couple of minutes later, she stopped walking.
"Here we are," she said.
My mother, Rokari, had brought me to where the other children were playing.
When I turned to her, unsure of what she expected me to do in this situation.
She simply smiled and motioned for me to join them.
'She's got to be crazy. I'm barely a year old—how does she expect me to—?'
"Hello."
A voice suddenly echoed in my mind.
Turning, I found a young blue-haired boy, around two or three years old.
"Hi," I replied.
He smiled. "My name's Marcus. What's yours?"
"My name's Draven," I answered.
"Draven? Why do you have black hair?"
I shrugged slightly. "I don't know. Why don't you have black hair?"
He looked at me like I had just asked a ridiculous question.
Before he could respond, my mother picked me up.
"You can come back another time," she said. "But for now, I want to show you a few more places."
For the rest of the afternoon, she guided me around the village. Counting the houses, I realized there were only about twelve.
My mother, Rokari, explained that this wasn't a large village and that there were other Migurd tribes out there—though she never gave a specific number.
She showed me where they dried meat, cleaned animal pelts, and tended their crops.
As I glanced at the semi-dried plants, I noticed there were venus-flytrap like plants guarding them.
'How peculiar.' I thought to myself.
…
Eventually, we returned home, where my father was already preparing a fire for dinner. That night, we had meat stew with small pieces of bread and vegetables.
"You're back. How was the outing?" Rowin asked.
"It went well. I introduced Draven to the village and showed him around," Rokari replied.
"That's good," he said.
After their conversation, we gathered around the fire and ate together.
Not long after, my mother placed me back in my crib, and I quickly fell asleep.
***
One Year Later…
Another year has passed, and I am now two years old.
My parents were amazed at how quickly I learned things—whether it was games or small lessons about the world around us, I picked up everything quickly.
Over time, I discovered that this place is called the Demon Continent—a dangerous eastern land filled with various demon tribes. It's known for its barren landscapes, powerful monsters, and limited resources.
I also learned that everyone here fears a demon race called the Superd. According to my mother, if I stay up too late, they'll come and take me from my bed.
Yeah… right. Just another bedtime story.
She also explained that we belong to the Migurd race—people with blue hair, blue eyes, and youthful, childlike bodies that remain unchanged for nearly 150 years, with lifespans reaching around 200.
When I asked why my hair is black and my eyes are purple, she simply told me I was unique—a mutation with no negative effects.
And honestly, she was right.
Compared to my old body, this one is much stronger. Even at just two years old, I can exert strength similar to what I had at eight in my previous life.
…
My daily routine mostly consisted of playing with the other children and running around the village.
The adults never seemed worried, since we could all communicate telepathically if anything happened.
"Draven," my mother called.
Immediately, I stopped what I was doing, said goodbye to the others, and ran home.
"I'm home, Mother," I said as I stepped inside, noticing the village chief sitting across from my parents.
"Hello, young Draven," he greeted me once I sat down.
"I hear you've recently turned two and can already speak quite well. Is that true?"
I glanced at my parents.
Seeing there nodds, I replied.
"Uh… yes, sir."
"Not 'sir.' Call me Chief," he corrected.
"Sorry—yes, Chief."
He smiled, clearly satisfied.
"Tell me, Draven… would you like to learn about magic?"
"Magic?" I asked.
"Yes. Something like this."
He spoke a few words, and a small cube of dirt rose from the ground into his hand.
"Wow…"
He just created a cube of dirt from out of nowhere.
[To be Continued…]