Palim blinked as the warm candlelight flickered in front of him. The flame danced softly on top of the strawberry pie, illuminating the small room. He was one year old today, though it felt like a lifetime had passed since that day.
In the past ten months, they had rebuilt their lives—fragile but comforting in its own way. After fleeing their home, Ruth led them to a small house on the outskirts of the capital. It wasn't much, but it was peaceful. The looming walls of the city provided a strange sense of security, though Palim knew all too well that walls couldn't protect them from everything.
His father had quickly found work with the help of an old friend—a fellow soldier from the days of war. Palim overheard their late-night conversations sometimes. They didn't talk about the past, but there was always that unspoken bond, one forged in battles too painful to recount. Palim understood that his father trusted this friend. It was why they had come here.
Becca had changed too. Her laughter was still bright, but there was a new edge to it—a sharpness that hadn't been there before. Just two weeks after they settled, she had asked Ruth to teach her swordsmanship.
Every morning, Palim watched them spar in the yard, the clang of metal echoing through the quiet air. Becca had taken to it quickly, her movements growing sharper and more precise with each passing day.
"She's getting strong," Palim thought with pride. But beneath that pride, there was always a pang of worry. Becca was only a child, and yet she was already learning the art of war.
Ruth, for his part, had also thrown himself into training her, as if it was the only way he knew to deal with their loss. He spent hours guiding Becca, teaching her with the same intensity he had wielded on the battlefield. Palim noticed the deep sadness in his father's eyes, though Ruth never spoke of Elena. It was as if mentioning her would reopen wounds too painful to bear, and Ruth wasn't ready for that.
With Ruth and Becca occupied, Palim found himself with more freedom than he expected. His father trusted him, in his own quiet way. He didn't hover over Palim like before, leaving him alone for long stretches. It was an unspoken acknowledgment of Palim's growing independence.
Palim used this time wisely. He couldn't train with a sword like Becca, but he had his own path to follow. His EX ability, Recycle, was still a mystery, but over the months, he had learned how to push its limits. Every morning, while Becca and Ruth were in the yard, Palim sat by the window, closing his eyes to feel the world around him.
It began with the air. He had learned to recycle it—barely a sliver at first, but with time, the gains became more noticeable. The Recycle ability wasn't just about objects. It was about energy. He could sense the mana in the air now, and with focused effort, he drew it into himself, converting it into small fragments of power. It was slow, but it worked.
[Recycle: Air]
The system would blink in front of him, and his stats would increase—an infinitesimal amount, repeated countless times. Each successful recycle felt like a small victory, a step toward something greater. And Palim needed that. He needed to feel like he was moving forward, like he was becoming stronger.
He kept his experimentation hidden from Ruth and Becca. It wasn't that he didn't trust them—it was just that he didn't want to worry them. Palim knew his father already carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Becca was too young to understand. They were both focused on swordsmanship, on tangible strength. What Palim was doing… it was different. It was subtle.
Sometimes, he tried to recycle small objects—stones, leaves, food. He focused on feeling the energy, how his skill extracted it, and how he could control what it recycled into. It was a long, strenuous scientific process, always leaving him out of stamina. A game of trial and error, but Palim thrived in it. He remembered his past life, the work he had done, the careful calculations and experiments. This was no different.
He recalled how, during those early weeks, frustration had gnawed at him. The Recycle ability had so many limitations. But now, with time and persistence, he had begun to see its potential. He was starting to grasp this transient state of energy, distinct from the flow of mana that he had grown accustomed to perceiving all around him.
His stomach grumbled. It was time to taste the strawberry pie. His father and Becca were sitting across from him, watching him closely.
"Make a wish," Becca said, smiling.
Palim looked at the candle, then at the pie. It was simple, but it reminded him of the pies his mother used to make. Elena's strawberry pies had been his favorite—he remembered the taste, sweet and comforting, like everything good in the world. The memory filled him with warmth, both soothing and painful.
He took a deep breath and blew out the candle.
For a moment, the world was still. Then Becca grinned and clapped her hands, breaking the quiet.
"Now you're one year old!" she said, her eyes sparkling. "Which means we can finally play like I promised."
Palim smiled at her. Becca had been talking about this day for weeks. He wanted to learn how to handle a sword, so he asked her to show him as he reached for the toy sword.
Even if his current stats allowed him to wield a wooden sword, it would be too much of a shock for his father. Still, watching the spars from afar was becoming inefficient. He wanted to train his eyes and reflexes. Becca would love to show off in front of him.
"Play," Palim thought. For Becca, it was all a game. For him, it was another step toward getting stronger—toward protecting them.
Becca reached out, pulling him up from the small wooden chair. "Come on, we can start today! I've been waiting for this!"
Palim let her drag him outside, the cool air brushing against his skin as they stepped into the yard. He glanced back at the house, at Ruth, who was watching them with a faint smile. For a moment, everything felt almost normal.
But Palim knew better. He glanced at his hands, feeling the subtle trace of mana in the air around him. It was time to check how far he had come.
[Status]
The screen appeared in front of him, displaying his attributes. His gains were still modest, but they were there. Small victories, accumulated over months of effort.
[Palim Evander]
Race: Human
Age: 1
[Attributes]
Strength: 6
Agility: 5
Mana: 10
Stamina: 24
Intelligence: 200 (Capped)
Charm: 3
Luck: 2
[Skills]
Recycle – EX Rank: (MAX)
Mana Detection – F Rank: Lv. 32
Air Manipulation – D Rank: Lv. 11
Palim studied the numbers carefully. They were low, but he was growing.
His Intelligence had gone from 100 to 200 today. It seemed the cap increased with his age. Maybe there were also maximum values for the other stats, linked to age. Was that related to his race?
For now, he could only guess. When his Intelligence had reached 200, he felt the difference. His thought process had accelerated, and focusing became easier. But it was still far from how he had felt in his past life, during his prime.
He was ready to train with his sister now—or at least, to "play" as she called it.
Becca spun around, her wooden sword in hand. "Ready, Palim? Let's see what you've got!"
Palim gave her a determined nod, raising his small, chubby arms.
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