Palim's days were slowly changing.
For weeks, he had worked quietly in the confines of his crib, testing his newfound abilities, observing his family, and learning more than any infant should be able to. The status panel was always there, hanging in his vision, a constant reminder of the tools at his disposal. With his SSS Ability: Recycle, he had experimented cautiously, careful not to arouse suspicion from his parents. Each small step was a discovery, and each day brought more clarity.
Now, he had reached another milestone. Crawling.
At first, it was awkward—his little limbs uncoordinated, his muscles weak. But as the days passed, he gained more control. His legs pushed harder, his arms stabilized his tiny body, and soon he could move with a level of freedom he hadn't had since being reborn.
Freedom that came with new observations.
He began to understand the words spoken around him. "Dinner," "Mama," "Papa," and "Becca" were easy at first, but as he listened more, the language clicked. The syntax, the structure—it was different from what he had known on Earth, but his mind, sharp and efficient, adapted quickly. He could follow entire conversations now.
One evening, during a casual chat between his parents, Palim picked up something more significant.
"We can't stay here forever, Elena. If the war flares up again..."
His father had been talking in a low voice, trying not to alarm Becca, who was playing nearby. But Palim's ears caught everything. His mother, Elena, sighed.
"The Trisskah aren't the same threat they were before, are they?"
Trisskah? He did not understand the word, but guessed these were ennemies.
His father's expression turned grim.
"We don't know. The borders are quiet, but for how long? We were there, Elena. We fought them. We know what they're capable of."
His mother's tried to appease him, his worry melting in front of her usual calm. "Whatever happens, we'll protect them. Both Becca and Palim."
Palim's mind raced. His father had fought in a war. A war against some ennemies. This world wasn't peaceful. Far from it.
He couldn't quite process the concept of "Trisskah" yet, but the tension in his father's voice made it clear they were a real danger.
As if that weren't enough to grapple with, Palim was soon confronted with something even more tangible.
One afternoon, while Becca napped and his mother busied herself in the kitchen, Palim got the opportunity to crawl in the garden.
He hadn't seen much of it before, but now, crawling through the back door, he found himself in a vast, green expanse. It was bigger than anything he had imagined—a sprawling space full of life. The sun was warm on his skin, and the air smelled fresh, tinged with the sweetness of blooming flowers.
He marveled at the sight.
Trees lined the far end of the garden, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. Birds chirped from hidden perches, and the occasional butterfly flitted by, teasing him with its graceful flight. It felt alive. Vibrant. Almost too perfect to be real.
As he explored the grass, his small hands brushing through the soft blades, something caught his attention.
His father, Ruth, stood at the far end of the garden, sword in hand. He hadn't noticed Palim yet. His movements were precise, deliberate, as he swung the sword in fluid arcs. Each slash seemed to cut the space itself.
Palim's eyes widened.
Ruth wasn't just swinging the sword. He was using magic too.
Small bursts of energy followed each motion, trailing behind the blade like light. At first, Palim thought it was a trick of the eye, but no—it was real. With every movement, his father was channeling something more, something powerful.
Then it happened.
Ruth swung the sword upward, and a wave of energy exploded from it, tearing through the air and dissipating into the sky. For a moment, the ground beneath Palim seemed to vibrate with the force of it.
Palim stared, stunned. His father was more than just a soldier. He seems so strong.
Palim watched as Ruth sheathed the sword, his breathing steady, his face calm. There was no boastful display of power, no flourish. Just quiet control.
Palim's heart raced. If his father could wield such strength, what else was possible in this world? And how far could Palim push his own abilities?
That evening, Palim went in the garden again. His mind still buzzed with the memory of his father's training. He couldn't ignore the pull of curiosity any longer. He had to try.
A branch had fallen nearby, freshly broken from one of the trees. Crawling toward it, Palim reached out and touched the rough bark with his small hand. It felt solid, real—just like the objects he had experimented with in his crib.
"Recycle," he whispered, though his voice was barely an unintelligible breath.
The status panel blinked into view:
[Recycling...]
The branch began to disintegrate, particles of it floating upward, dissolving into nothingness. But this time, something was different.
Energy surged into him. Much more than any time before. He could feel it—like a small spark igniting inside his body.
[+0.2 Strength]
[+0.2 Agility]
[+0.2 Stamina]
Palim's eyes widened. The gains were better than anything he had gotten before. When he recycled it, the branch was still green, still full of vitality, and it had given him a boost he hadn't anticipated.
But his body couldn't handle it.
As the mana flowed through him, a wave of exhaustion hit him like a crashing tide. His muscles gave out, and his vision blurred. Before he could fully process what was happening, his body collapsed onto the grass.
Everything went dark.
The next thing he knew, he was back in his crib, his mother fussing over him with a worried expression.
"Poor little thing, you must have tired yourself out."
Palim blinked up at her, too weak to move. His limbs still felt heavy, drained from the strain of recycling the branch. His father and Becca hovered nearby, both looking concerned.
"He's just tired," his father said. "Babies push themselves sometimes."
They didn't suspect anything. Palim's secret was still safe.
But as he lay there, recovering, Palim thought about the branch. Living or recently living matter had given him a much bigger boost than inanimate objects. The implications were enormous.
He stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts racing.
This world wasn't peaceful, and there was danger lurking beyond their home. His father had fought in wars, and real ennemies existed. His family needed to be protected.
And he would do it.
Palim closed his eyes, his exhaustion convertinh into determination. He had a long way to go before he could stand on his own two feet, but he had something most others didn't—an ability that could change everything.
But first, he had to get stronger. Strong enough to protect the ones he loved.
And that would start with recycling everything he could.
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