At merely nine months old, life hadn't turned out as expected. Despite my grand aspirations of wielding magic and mastering arcane arts, I found myself woefully powerless. My plan to sustain some harmless injuries to draw attention—like in those fantasy fanfics—was thwarted by my overly watchful parents, Zenith and Lilia. Their excessive concern ensured I was never out of sight, denying me the freedom to explore even the simplest dangers.
I had hoped to feel the flow of Mana coursing through my body, as vividly described in countless novels, but my efforts yielded nothing. Not a flicker, not a spark. Perhaps I was truly talentless. However, amidst these disappointments, there were silver linings to be found.
Paul's bedtime stories and the constant chatter between Zenith, Lilia, and Paul themselves became my unintentional teachers. Piece by piece, I began to piece together the language of this world. Despite my growing comprehension, the tantalizing magical tomes owned by Zenith remained frustratingly out of reach, locked away in secrecy.
I had, however, started crawling. The newfound mobility allowed me to explore the house, albeit under constant surveillance. My primary goal was clear—find those magical books. I observed their movements closely, noting every nook and cranny where they might be hidden. My persistence bore fruit when I overheard a casual conversation between Zenith and Lilia that confirmed the existence of a bookshelf harboring not just magical grimoires but also herbology texts. A small yet significant victory.
My progress in language surprised everyone. Mimicking simple words brought shock and joy to Zenith, Paul, and Lilia. I carefully limited my vocabulary to necessities—food, toilet, water—to avoid raising suspicions about my intelligence. Yet, their astonishment was undeniable.
And so, I turned my focus to three delightful storybooks: *Adventures of the Armored Dragon King Perugius*, *The Three Great Swordsmen*, and *The Great King Ares Asura*. The fantastical tales helped me recognize alphabets, understand their meanings, and connect them to spoken words. Whenever I was stuck, I called for help—usually Lilia, as her patience far exceeded that of Zenith or Paul.
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Before I knew it, three months had flown by, and I celebrated my first birthday. Well, "celebrated" might be too strong a word. Zenith offered a prayer to Milis for my health, and thankfully, there was no grand party or unnecessary commotion.
At one year old, my achievements were modest but satisfying. I could now read and pronounce most of the words in the storybooks, astonishing my parents and Lilia. Their praise buoyed my spirits, and I began to walk with the help of walls and furniture.
But my greatest triumph was discovering the location of Zenith's forbidden bookshelf. Tucked away in a corner of the study, it was filled with magical grimoires and herbology manuals—treasures I had long dreamed of accessing. Now, all I needed was the perfect opportunity to delve into their secrets without drawing attention.
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At nine months old, I had already suffered minor injuries—a scrape here, a bump there. Each time, Zenith swooped in with a glowing hand, murmuring the words of **Healing Magic**. Watching the faint light mend my wounds was mesmerizing. I burned the incantation into my memory, each syllable and gesture recorded with meticulous care. However, as much as I wanted to try it myself, I didn't dare. A botched attempt could easily backfire, and at this size, I couldn't risk it.
Instead, I formed a plan. If this world mirrored the web novel I once knew, there was a clear path to power. **Elementary-Rank Water Ball**—the foundation for mastering Chantless Magic. I'd start there, perfect my control, and then use that knowledge to tackle Chantless Healing Magic. Unlike casting for myself, Healing Magic involved interfacing with another's Mana flow, and Rudeus once lamented his inability to grasp this subtle interference. If I didn't master it early, my burgeoning Mana reserves might make it impossible.
And then, there was **Touki**.
The web novel implied Rudeus's inability to awaken Touki stemmed from his Laplace Factor or his lack of innate talent. If I was similarly restricted, Chantless Healing Magic wouldn't just be an asset—it would be a necessity. The future loomed large, and I had to prepare now, while I still had the chance.
But first, I needed those books.
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The bookshelf stood tall, almost mocking in its size. Somewhere amidst the herbology texts and magical grimoires lay the knowledge I desperately craved. My days of observation had finally borne fruit—this was Zenith's treasure trove. I crouched in the corner of the study, peering around to ensure neither Zenith nor Lilia were nearby. Paul wasn't an issue; he spent most of his time training or goofing off.
The coast was clear.
I crawled toward the bookshelf, my tiny fingers pressing against the cool wooden floor. Each movement felt monumental, the echoes of my shuffling amplified in the silent room. I reached the base and looked up. The shelves stretched endlessly, filled with leather-bound volumes. For a one-year-old, this might as well have been a mountain.
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**"MAXIMUM effort,"** I whispered to myself. Wonders of magic awaited me at the summit.
Using the lower shelves as handholds, I began my ascent. The wood creaked faintly under my weight, and I paused, holding my breath. My heart thudded in my chest as I climbed higher, my small hands gripping the edges tightly.
Halfway up, I glanced down and immediately regretted it. The floor seemed miles away, and for a moment, I considered retreating. But the thought of those books—the secrets they held—spurred me on. My determination outweighed my fear.
Sweat trickled down my temple as I reached for the next ledge. Just a little more. I could see the edges of a grimoire peeking out, its cover embossed with golden runes.
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The sound of a door creaking open froze me in place.
"Rudeus?" Zenith's voice called out from the hallway.
I clung to the shelf, heart pounding. My tiny form pressed flat against the wood, hoping she wouldn't come this way. Footsteps approached, each one louder than the last.
"Don't panic," I told myself, willing my racing heart to calm. But if I was discovered mid-heist, how would I explain this? Would they scold me, or worse, hide the books somewhere else entirely?
The footsteps stopped, then retreated. The door clicked shut. I let out a shaky breath, my grip on the shelf loosening slightly.
With renewed determination, I reached the shelf that held the books and pulled myself up. My hand brushed the cover of a thick grimoire—**"Found it."** A triumphant grin spread across my face as I carefully tugged the book free.
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And then the shelf wobbled.
Panic surged through me as I clung tightly to the wood, the book slipping from my grasp. It landed with a heavy thud on the floor below. The sound echoed through the study, and I froze again, praying that no one had heard.
Seconds passed, each one dragging longer than the last.
Finally, I exhaled in relief and began my descent. The book was within reach now, and I wasn't leaving without it.
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As my feet touched the ground, the study door swung open. Zenith stood there, her expression a mix of confusion and amusement.
"Rudeus, what are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as they fell on the fallen book.
Caught red-handed, I could only smile sheepishly.
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