A full story of Cid's childhood before we start the main story-line. May seem a little close to the original but after this the main action starts.
AU in this verse. Beastmen have slightly different powers, and elves are here! Not to mention Chaos as well!
Cid's POV - Flashback
It all started when I died and got reincarnated into this world. From the moment Truck-kun hit me, opening some magical passage or whatever. I was in a new life. Honestly, who cares about the details?
In this new world, my name was Cid Kagenou, a baby of a few months born into a small noble family.
I didn't really understand the language at first, but from a few observations, like the lack of technology, I could tell this was some sort of medieval European civilization.
More importantly… I found magic. I mean, what else could all those glittering particles floating around be?
But just because I had magic didn't mean I was going to throw away all the martial arts and training I had from my old life.
From ages 2 to 4, I mostly kept quiet during training. I focused on understanding the language and getting used to this new life.
Like any other isekai protagonist reincarnated as a baby, I ran my own little secret mission: sneaking into the library every day to read. At first, I was stealthy and never got caught, but eventually, my parents found it out.
Surprisingly, they didn't care… at least, not until I started scribbling in the books. I always thought it would be frowned upon for a child to sneak around to read at a young age but my parents were proud.
I didn't learn much from those books anyway, just basic language, history, and fairy tales.
During that time, I also learned to talk and not shit my pants. That's about it.
When I turned five, the real journey began.
With magic, I could reinforce my body to do things that would've been impossible in my old world.
Casual stuff, like jumping over houses and running faster than any animal. Just… normal stuff.
However… a nuke is still a tiny bit out of my reach. But it's fine. At this pace, by the time I'm ten, I'll be exactly as strong as I want to be.
Oh, also, did I forget to mention that the kingdom I lived in was completely destroyed?
Luckily, my family happened to be on vacation, so we survived. Danafor, a mighty, well-respected kingdom, was obliterated in an instant, leaving behind nothing but a giant crater.
I'd love to say I felt bad… but honestly? It only made me more determined. If I had been in the kingdom, would I have survived the blast? No. Not even close.
Whoever managed to wipe out a whole kingdom? That guy is living my dream.
After that, we moved to Liones. Not much different, except the Knights here are leagues stronger. There was even this elite group called the Seven Deadly Sins. They were like a top-ranked adventurer guild or something. Strong. Cool. Mysterious.
And you'd think that after surviving a kingdom-ending catastrophe, life would calm down. You would be wrong. So, so wrong.
While staying in the Royal Castle, I met a trio of little chaos gremlins my age: Howzer, Griamore, and Gilthunder. Gilthunder's dad was some high-ranking big-shot Knight and a total legend.
They got on my nerves. They had "main character trio" written all over them… but somehow I got dragged into the group. I tried to escape, multiple times, but they stuck to me like glue.
To this day, I still don't know why.
Around that time, I also began my training to become a Holy Knight. My family used to produce elite Knights for Danafor, so expectations for me were ridiculously high. Future heir, future Knight, future whatever.
BUT.
An Eminence in Shadow reveals their true power only to a select few.
So while I hold back in my swordsmanship training, it's not useless. It helps me learn how this world fights, what its power ceiling looks like… all that useful stuff.
To be honest, the techniques in my old life were a hundred times more refined and logical. Meanwhile, in this world? They just cram magic into their swords and call it technique.
Barbaric.
Thanks to magic, even basic physical enhancement in this world is insane. But it's also the reason why everyone's technique is so sloppy. Why bother perfecting your form when you can just blast someone with a magic-infused punch and call it a day?
So that was my life up until age seven: Hiding my abilities. Training in secret. Preparing to become… the Eminence in Shadow.
By eight, I was already secretly hunting bandits, while still juggling my totally normal life with Howzer, Griamore, and Gilthunder.
By nine, my skills had skyrocketed. The martial arts of this world were vastly different from Earth's, but I learned to combine everything, technique, power, and magic, into my own unique style.
By ten… I made my first major breakthrough in magic. By now, I had learnt how to properly use it, most people have oceans of it, but no idea how to control it.
Now on to my discovery, the full-body slime suit. Magic in this world is incredible, but honestly, most people just lack the imagination..
See, in this world, magic conductivity is a big deal. Every material has a certain capacity to carry mana efficiently. Most objects? They barely hit 36% conductivity. That means a ton of mana is wasted and scattered when you try to channel it.
Even weapons like swords and spears, unless specially crafted to handle magic, suffer from that same awful efficiency. Sure, for rich Holy Knights or nobles, that's not a problem — they can just buy better gear.
But me? I was working on a budget.
Here's how the system basically works:
This world's people use magic to enhance themselves or their weapons, but there's always massive energy loss. For instance, a normal iron sword has only 10% efficiency if you pour in 100 units of mana, you only get about 10 units of actual power. The remaining 90% just dissipates into the world.
And that's when I started thinking about slimes.
Slimes, true to their wobbly appearances, are beings made entirely of mana. They move, reshape, and even attack using pure magical energy. When I studied them closely, I discovered something insane — their magic conductivity was 99%. Practically perfect.
(A/N: Slight au for the body-suit. Slimes won't appear later on, they are just here for an explanation for the slime body-suit)
Furthermore, since slimes are liquid, they can freely change their form. So I hunted them down, crushed their cores, and experimented with the leftover slime jelly.
The number of slime cores I've crushed easily reaches the thousands. It got so bad that the local area actually started suffering from a slime deficiency, forcing me to go on expeditions farther afield.
The slime jelly itself was surprisingly easy to process. After strengthening and mixing it with some other stuff, I finally managed to create a full-body bodysuit.
Unlike armor, it makes no sound, fits perfectly, and actually supports my movements. Naturally, its defensive capabilities are guaranteed.
Now, I'm usually wearing a completely black bodysuit made from slime jelly mixed with black pigments. No unnecessary decorations, no loose ends, just a perfect fit that doesn't hinder my breathing or vision.
In short, I look exactly like the villains from a certain detective manga.
[IMAGE]
I've arrived at an abandoned village. Despite the late hour, torches burn all around, looks like they've just finished raiding a merchant caravan and are now celebrating their "success."
Yep, my luck's pretty good tonight.
Bandits have zero planning ability. They always spend their loot right after getting it, which makes post-raid feasts like this the best time to strike.
After all, what belongs to bandits, belongs to me.
They've got piles of stolen goods just sitting there — perfect for funding my path to becoming the Eminence in Shadow.
I soar high into the air, then descend like a meteor, landing squarely on my feet in the center of their camp.
I don't play the stealth route. That wouldn't count as proper practice.
"ORA ORA ORA! Bring out the money, boys!" I shout, standing confidently amidst their circle of confusion. (E/N: Gonna start tweaking next time I see ORA ORA ORA)
"Who the hell is this little squirt!?" one of the bandits yells, drawing his sword.
Fair point. I am ten years old.
I lock eyes with him — cold, sharp, unblinking. Then I move.
My robes whip around me as I close the distance in an instant, the air bursting from the force of my step.
The shock in his eyes says it all.
I swiftly kicked the rude guy and followed it up with a punch, knocking him out cold.
"ORA! I said, bring out the money and valuables!" I shout again. (E/N: Jojo reference?! Probably not, but still cool.) (E/N: We're 2 people, I don't associate with this guy)
"Oi, don't think we'll go easy on you just 'cause you're a—"
"Oraaa!"
He didn't even get to finish his line before I cut his head off. Honestly, I did him a favor — dying mid-sentence saves him the embarrassment of saying something stupid.
Naturally, my weapon is made from slime material — an exceptional blade that only appears when I need it. Furthermore, this slime sword comes with some very handy features.
Handy Function N.1: It stretches.
"Ora ora ora ora oraaaAAA!"
The sword lashes out, stretching like a ribbon of death. Every bandit in the area gets a free haircut, plus or minus their heads.
The elasticity of mochi, combined with the sharpness of a proper sword — the perfect killing combo. I'd been slightly worried since it was my first real battle test, but it worked better than expected.
"ORA ORA ORA ORAAA… huh?"
Silence. Not a single bandit left standing. Just me, my echo, and the faint sound of someone's arm hitting the dirt.
"Eh, there's only one guy left?" I tilt my head. "Man, I didn't even get to warm up."
I point at the remaining bandit, who's shaking so hard he might start making music. "No other choice. I'll test Handy Function 2 on you."
"Wha-what are you saying!?"
"It seems you're the boss, right? Congratulations. You've been promoted to training dummy. You might survive two whole minutes if you're lucky."
"F-Fuck you! You think I'm scared of some brat!?"
"Unnecessary dialogue is unnecessary." I yawn.
"FUCK YOU!!!"
Bandit Boss A charges, screaming his lungs out. His sword slams into my chest, and I let it. The impact sends me rolling across the ground. Dramatically, of course.
I slowly rise back up, dusting off my suit. "Hmm. Not even a scratch."
The bandit stares, horrified. "Wh-what are you!?"
I look down at my flawless black slime suit, then back at him. "Me? I'm just a passing… mysterious figure."
A pause.
"…who also collects bandit taxes."
I am completely satisfied with the suit's defense capabilities. Seems like it can completely negate at least something on the level of Bandit Boss A's attacks.
"Shit, you asked for it!"
The bandit charges.
Er, um, yeah. Easy. He's swinging his sword like a man possessed, but I don't even bother raising mine. Just by stepping, angling, and breathing right, I can handle him easily. Like, embarrassingly easily.
For a brief moment, I almost felt respect — his movements weren't entirely bound by the flashy, inefficient garbage that passes for swordsmanship in this world. His style had hints of practicality: instantaneous acceleration, pressing forward with half steps, small efficient movements…
But, well, Boss A is just really bad at it. Like, "watched-one-tutorial-and-thought-he-mastered-it" bad.
When his desperate attacks finally slow, I gracefully step out of his mai (his zone of control).
"M-my sword... why didn't you get cut!?" he yells, eyes wide with fear.
"I mean," I shrug, "you're weaker than my dad. You're probably stronger than my older sister at the moment, but give her a year and she'll definitely surpass you."
"YOU GODDAMN BRAT!!!"
He swings wildly again, like a toddler with a stick. I casually parry his blade aside, step in close, and lightly kick his shin. Just a tap — precise, efficient, elegant.
And then—
"Ngh — why…?"
Boss A collapses to his knees, clutching his leg in agony. Red blood seeps through his fingers and stains the ground.
I tilt my head, studying him. "Huh. I didn't even put much force into that. Maybe your bones are allergic to talent?"
The look on his face told me everything: confusion, fear, despair… the perfect audience reaction.
What happened was simple. There was an ice pick–like sword extending from my toes.
Slime Body Suit Handy Function 2: able to extend a sword whenever and wherever I want.
The idea is genius, really. I just kick the opponent's leg while a blade shoots out from my toes. Hard to defend against something you don't expect — and even harder when it's coming from a foot.
"Guess there's no point keeping this up any longer."
"W–wait!"
"You didn't even last the full two minutes, man."
Without hesitation, I extended the sword from my toes, piercing straight through Bandit Boss A's head.
Death by Impalement.
Kicking his body aside, I walked toward the caravan to check for loot.
There were several carts filled with goods—and several corpses of merchants.
"I've already helped you guys take revenge, and your goods will be used for a good cause. So, rest in peace."
I gathered anything of decent quality and offered a brief moment of silence. If I convert all this into cash, it should be worth around fifty thousand gold coins. Oh, and one gold coin is about a hundred dollars. (A/N: Pardon me for the currency exchange I'm using a system I'm familiar with. Using yen would just confuse both of us.)
If only the world had worse public order. Like, RPG-level bad. Maybe then I could encounter bandits just by taking three steps outside.
"Work harder in your next life and become the Bandit King, alright?"
I said to the silent Bandit Boss A, brushing off my hands as if I'd just finished some light housework. Then something caught my eye further ahead.
"A cage…?"
It was big, surprisingly big, and built sturdier than anything these lowlifes should've been able to afford. Thick iron bars, reinforced hinges… definitely not for livestock.
"Slave? I can't fence that, so pass—"
But… hmm. A tiny part of me whispered: What if there's something valuable in there? Like a rare magical beast? Or a half-dead ancient dragon who will cough up treasure if I kick it?
So, just in case, I pull the tarp off the cage.
"…Oh. I did not expect that."
Inside is… yeah, no, that's definitely not a rare dragon.
It's a rotten lump of flesh. Humanoid-shaped, sort of, but that's about the best compliment I can give it. I can't tell if it's male, female, young, old, or even… facing me.
But… it's alive.
Barely.
As I lean in, the lump twitches — slowly, weakly, but undeniably.
So yeah. Still alive in the technical sense.
"Guess I'll at least put it to rest," I sigh. Mercy kill, clean and simple.
I slip my slime sword between the bars—
Then freeze.
"…Hold on."
An enormous amount of magic is swirling inside this thing. Not just big—monstrous.
Even after training with magic since I was basically a toddler with a death wish, this thing has more mana than me by a mile.
And even more shocking…
"This wave… is it magic overload…?"
The realization hits me instantly.
Magic deviation.
A catastrophic overflow of magic that warps your body until you're basically a sentient meatball.
I'd experienced it once—briefly. Barely got myself under control before something like this happened to me.
The idea I once had flashes through my mind:
If magic overload pushes the body past its limits… could letting it happen make me evolve? Adapt to magic better? Become stronger?
Of course, purposely causing your own magic to go haywire is suicidal, so I shelved that brilliant idea in the "extreme training methods for later" section of my brain.
But this thing…
This lump of meat…
It survived the process.
It endured the overload.
Which means—
"This is the perfect experimental sample…"
A chill runs down my spine—not from fear, but from excitement.
I lower the sword.
Killing it would be a waste.
I reach out to the lump of meat and begin pouring magic into it.
One Month Later.
Thinking back to the day I grabbed that… thing, I let out a long sigh while standing in the same abandoned village.
How did things end up like this?
The experiments went great at first. Since it wasn't my body, I had zero guilt dumping absurd amounts of magic into it.
Not this… not that… maybe try twisting it… ah yes, let's overclock it.
Honestly? I was having the time of my life.
I got closer to the essence of magic, even felt myself getting stronger. Everything was coming up for me.
I refined my magic control—denser, sharper, cleaner—until eventually I managed to completely suppress the magic deviation. And then—
Suddenly there's a little blond elf girl in front of me.
Like—what?
I'd been so absorbed in not blowing myself up that I didn't notice the lump of meat finishing its character creation. Seriously, returning from a literal chunk of flesh to "elf child" is wild. That's a speedrun.
Naturally, I decide to send her off like:
"Be free, return to your home!"
Or
"Go live a happy life!"
But then she drops:
"I can't go back."
"I must repay my debt."
Ma'am. I wasn't helping you. You're a side effect. A magical accident. A happy little oopsie.
I considered just… walking away. Quietly. Slowly. Never looking back.
But in the end? I let her become my first subordinate as a member of my power-in-the-shadows organization.
She doesn't seem like the betraying type, she's super competent for no reason, and she radiates that "I already handle adult responsibilities" aura. Even though we're both ten.
Apparently elf mental maturity is no joke.
"From today onward, your name will be Alpha."
"I understand."
She nods—blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin, stunning beauty. Basically the default elf starter pack.
"As for your duties…"
I stop to think. This part matters.
Her job is to support me as a power in the shadows. Sure. But that means explaining what a "power in the shadows" even is.
What my goal is.
How all this works.
In other words, I have to explain the fundamentals of my glorious, dramatic, extremely cool role in this world.
The setting of any plot is important. If the reason for fighting is "because I got pissed after losing at shogi," then that's just… stupid.
I have standards. I refuse to be the protagonist of a discount comedy gag battle arc.
Before coming to this world, and definitely after arriving here I've spent countless hours perfecting the ultimate scenarios for my role as a power in the shadows.
Thousands of patterns. Tens of thousands.
And with all that accumulated delusion—I mean brilliance—I instantly arrived at the optimum storyline.
I thrust my hand dramatically and declare:
"From the shadows, we will hunt the King of Camelot—Arthur Pendragon!"
Alpha tilts her head.
"…The king is not named Arthur Pendragon."
Ehhhh??
Right. Not fiction. Here, Camelot was real.
Well… too late to walk that back. Pride won't let me.
I clear my throat. "No, you see… in a few years, a prophecy will be fulfilled. Arthur Pendragon will succeed to the throne."
She blinks. "…What prophecy?"
"And when he does," I continue, because stopping now would be more embarrassing than dying, "he will transform from a benevolent king into the Prophet of Chaos! And Chaos is the one force that cursed you for eternity!"
"The thing… that cursed me for eternity?"
"Yes." Good, she's hooked. Time for lore dump—activate.
"Once upon a time, three heroes were cursed by Chaos. One an elf, one a human. Their descendants inherited fragments of that curse."
Her eyes widen. Perfect.
"Someone," I continue gravely, "twisted history. They erased the symbol of the heroes. They buried the method to cure the curse. They renamed it 'demon possession' so the world would fear—because fear keeps the truth buried."
"WHO would do something like that?!"
I cross my arms, giving her my coolest, most shadowy expression.
"Those plotting the resurrection of the demon Diabolos."
I let the name hang in the air. A dramatic breeze would've been great, but nature wasn't cooperating.
"Those suffering from the Curse of Chaos are all powerful—too powerful. They inherited the heroes' blood. They are our future strength."
My voice drops.
"And that makes them obstacles to Chaos. So Chaos marked them. Hunted them. And hid them."
Alpha trembles not in fear, but resolve.
Perfect. Hooked. Synced.
"Which is why they call it demon possession and execute them? They're the lowest of the low!" Alpha snarls, her voice trembling with emotion.
I nod solemnly. "Branded with a fabricated sin. Hunted from your home. Separated from your family. Tell me, Alpha… do you feel hatred?"
She clenches her small fists.
"I. Hate. Them. How could I not?"
Good. Very good. She is perfectly in character.
"The Order of the Primordial," I declare, lowering my voice for maximum coolness, "will never show itself in the light of day. As such, we too must lurk in the shadows. We will lurk in the shadows… and we will hunt the shadows."
Alpha's eyes widen with understanding. "To influence the world without ever appearing on the public stage… that means there are many powerful members. Countless people are being manipulated without even knowing it."
I nod again, using my serious face No. 4.
"It is a path filled with thorns, with hardship… but it must be done. So I ask you—will you lend me your strength?"
"If it is your wish," Alpha says, her voice unwavering, "I would even offer my life. And more than that… this is my own wish. We shall succeed without fail."
She fixes her bright blue eyes on me and smiles fearlessly. At ten years old, she somehow radiates the aura of a seasoned warrior ready to topple an empire.
Inside my heart, I pump both fists like I just won the lottery.
Damn, yeah this elf is hella gullible!
Naturally, "Chaos" doesn't exist, so no matter how seriously Alpha investigates, she will never find a single clue.
But she doesn't know that.
Every now and then, we'll go wipe out some random bandit gang under the totally legitimate suspicion of "possible Order of the Primordial activity."
Or we'll jump into the middle of some hero-looking party's battle and yell things like:
"The destruction of this world is at hand!"
Or:
"The resurrection of Chaos draws near!"
Then we make a dramatic exit, leaving them confused and traumatically overwhelmed by our coolness.
We can even show up on battlefields and shout:
"Oh ye foolish sheep, unaware of how deeply you are manipulated!"
Right before stylishly wiping everyone out.
Ohhh, the possibilities… the sky's the limit!
This is peak power-in-the-shadows activity.
Ah, right—the all-important name of our organization…
"We shall be known as Shadow Garden. We who lurk in the shadows… and hunt the shadows."
"I understand," Alpha says, dead serious. "The enemy is powerful, so we must raise our strength."
"Yep, yep, exactly."
"And we must find other descendants of the heroes and safeguard them."
"Uh, yeah, sure… that too. In moderation."
More people would make us look more like a real secret organization, but honestly? I'd be perfectly fine with it being just the two of us. Any more and it stops feeling like a cool underground duo and starts feeling like a school club.
"Well, for now let's just focus on getting stronger."
And that was pretty much it.
That was my life at ten years old.
…A surprisingly eventful year, honestly.
In the next three years, a lot of stuff kept happening around me.
Not to me just… around me.
Like the universe was desperately trying to make me the protagonist, and I was desperately sidestepping every flag like my life depended on it.
Sure, I got stronger. Obviously.
But the first interesting thing happened the moment I turned eleven.
The disappearance and "betrayal" of the knightly order known as the Seven Deadly Sins.
Apparently, they were some big-shot Holy Knight squad—like, the legendary posters-on-every-tavern-wall kind of heroes.
And then BAM. Overnight they went from Hero to Criminal like they speedran moral collapse in under twelve hours.
But c'mon.
Heroes don't turn evil overnight.
(…Unless it's bad writing. But I choose to believe this world has standards.)
Clearly they're doing something cool.
Like a secret undercover mission.
Hunting evil from inside the darkness.
Pretending to betray the kingdom to expose corruption.
Really admirable stuff.
10/10 shadow behavior.
I had a field day ranting about it with Howzer, one of my "friends."
I call him "friend" because it sounds less suspicious than "recurring side character who keeps dragging me into protagonist-tier events."
He's the sunshine, I'm the background tree.
A classic dynamic.
Anyway, while out with him, I learned all the details:
blah blah blah this knight dead, that knight dead, public panic, kingdom in shambles…
But THEN, out of nowhere, this Holy Knight attacks us.
Unfortunately, I was out of mana.
(Side-effects of experimenting with magic until my internal system asked for paid overtime.)
So I had no choice but to take out one of my early alter-egos…
Ruffian Bandit Slayer.
The effect was beautiful.
I muttered a bunch of cool lines such as:
"A battle is a conversation."
And I wanted to say:
"Your lunge is weak."
But… no. Even I knew that one was too cringe to leave my mouth.
Anyway that sums up being eleven.