It was the dead of night, and Piers was secretly wide awake.
His father — a walking fortress of a man with a snore like distant thunder — lay sprawled on one side of the bed. His mother — delicate, dignified, and somehow still elegant even while drooling slightly — was curled on the other.
And in between them, wedged like a confused burrito, lay Piers.
Eyes open. Brain spinning.
Faint glyphs flickered in the dark — the remnants of a vision he couldn't fully grasp.
[ Skill Unlocked: Memory Loop Trap ]
{Allows the user to trap a target's consciousness in a repeating loop of memories. The loop can be manipulated—infused with false joy, twisted into endless despair, or reshaped to uncover hidden truths. Victims relive the altered memory over and over, suffering disorientation, emotional collapse, or involuntary revelation.}
Piers stared, then blinked once, very slowly.
"…Cool," he whispered to himself.
His fingers hovered just above the swirling arcane imprint, still glowing faintly in the dark.
So… I can alter memories.
Not just trap someone in their own worst moment — I can rewrite it. Sweeten it. Twist it. Break it.
"…Oh," Piers whispered, blinking slowly.
"Hmm This could be bad."
Or brilliant.
He turned his head.
First — to the left — where his father's snore cracked like thunder.
Then to the right — where his mother lay peaceful, elegant…and absolutely the kind of demon mom who'd nuke the whole country if someone bruised his knee.
Piers stared at her in silence.
Then—
That grin.
Slow. Stretching across his face like mischief incarnate. Half evil genius, half toddler up to no good.
But before it could settle, something else pushed through the moment.
He shifted. Sat upright, quietly peeling the blanket off his small frame. The cool air hit his skin, but he barely noticed.
He began thinking about the lightning wolf incident — and the four kids he'd helped.
"Those kids... are they alright? Styx would know. I need to ask her."
His brow creased slightly, concern washing over him.
"It feels like these things are only happening around me… or maybe I'm the only one noticing. Are mom and dad even aware of just how dangerous it's getting out there?"
His eyes drifted again toward them.
"Guess I can't just get up and vanish. They'd definitely notice."
And yet — something clearer settled in his chest. A decision.
"I need to get stronger. I have to survive this life and to protect them."
His smile returned, quieter now — not sharp or smug.
But sure.
Alright... time to try another skill. Perfect timing, really.
Piers's eyes narrowed with toddler-level determination. His tiny fist clenched above the covers like a miniature general preparing for battle.
Okay, Modal Maker.
"Create anything non-living based on what I've seen or touched… Right. I got this."
He glanced at his peacefully sleeping parents — his dad snoring like a chainsaw duet with a dragon, and his mom, serene as ever, her expression so calm it made guilt nibble at the edge of his courage.
"Sorry, Mom. I promise I'll be careful." He inhaled slowly, then pressed a hand to his chest and focused.
Mana stirred gently inside him like ripples on a still pond. He funneled that energy into the skill.
Modal Maker.
He imagined it clearly — his own sleeping form, curled up exactly how he looked now: mouth slightly open, limbs tucked just right, and maybe even a hint of a dream-dribble for extra realism.
And then…
Off his other hand —
Something began to rise — smooth, slow.
From his small palm, like turtles surfacing from glassy water, the shape emerged.
Fluid. Steady. Precise.
"Ta-da," he whispered, trying not to beam too loudly.
"Perfect. Dummy Piers, reporting for dream duty."
He gently shifted the faux-Piers into place. The blanket adjusted. Hair fluffed. The lighting? Impeccable.
He stepped back.
"…Damn. I really am cute huh?."
He blinked. Then coughed.
Okay, let's not get weird about it.
Still, he couldn't resist. He poked the dummy's cheek.
Too soft… like real skin…
"…Hehehe."
A grin tugged at his lips as he rubbed its squishy face. Then pinched it. Then both.
"This is illegal levels of adorableness."
But just as he was about to give it one more squish—
His mother shifted in her sleep.
GASP
He froze, finger still mashed into Dummy-Piers's cheek.
Xylia sighed softly and settled again, her smile still intact.
Piers slowly exhaled.
"Right. No more cheek-pinching," he whispered, backing off like a thief who'd just barely escaped detection. "Dummy's got the job now. Time for my exit."
He slipped the dummy gently into place — blanket tucked, limbs positioned just right — then carefully slid off the bed, landing on the floor with barely a sound. His tiny feet padded across the room like shadows as he crept out, careful not to wake either parent.
Down the stairs. Slow. Quiet. Every creak could end me.
He reached the hallway outside Styx's room. The door creaked slightly as he opened it—
"...Neesan?"
Empty.
A knot twisted in his stomach.
"She's not here...? At this hour?"
His thoughts raced.
"Where could she possibly be right now?"
Piers paused. He narrowed his eyes and focused — mana pulsing gently through his body. He extended it outward, like fog curling into cracks.
Search. Reach. Feel.
The house faded from his awareness as his senses sharpened.
Then—there.
A voice. Faint. Familiar.
Neesan. And… she sounds worried? Actually worried.
"...the barrier... it's even worse than I thought..."
His breath caught.
The barrier...?
His mana zeroed in on her location — outside the house, near the very section she'd broken through the day before.
Without hesitation, Piers crept outside into the hush of the night. The moon floated high, casting everything in pale silver as he followed her mana signature to the damaged part of the barrier.
And there she was.
She stood just inside the broken section of the barrier, crouched low, holding something out through the gap — food?
And across from her… those children. Mutou and Gyuunyuu stood nearby, quiet and alert.
So… they're safe. She's looking after them.
A tiny, shaky breath slipped out of him.
Good. Really good.
As Piers crept closer, he noticed the children eating more calmly now. The tension in their small shoulders seemed to ease with each bite.
Mutou turned toward him, his expression serious.
"Young Master, how would you like us to handle these little ones?"
He inclined his head.
"They cannot understand us. You are the only one who can comprehend their words."
Piers stepped forward, his eyes steady.
"Hmm... let me try something. Maybe I can help you all to understand their language too."
His voice carried a quiet confidence — something new, something growing.
Styx, unusually focused on the scene in front of her, piped up suddenly with her usual spark.
"Ooh! While you do that, can I grab some warmblankets for them? They look super cold!"
She gave the children a look that was surprisingly soft. Almost… sisterly.
Piers nodded.
"Yeah. Good idea. But be very quiet, neesan."
He dropped his voice to a whisper.
"Don't wake Mom and Dad. If they find out... we're toast."
She saluted with mock seriousness and dashed off, her footsteps light.
His sleepy eyes turned gently toward the vampire girl.
"Lucienne, right?" voice low.
"Do you remember… how it all happened? How you ended up there?"
She hesitated, her crimson gaze drifted downward as she chewed. Her expression dimmed — shadowed.
A pause. Then a slow, solemn nod.
Her voice, still soft, carried a weight far beyond her years.
"We were slaves," she whispered.
her eyes drifted down to her bowl. She held the spoon tightly, like she didn't trust it wouldn't be taken from her.
"…They took us," "Me and the others. From our homes."
The others froze mid-bite. The warmth of the food couldn't soften the memories.
"They made us work. Always working. It was dark, and cold… and if we got tired, they'd hurt us."
Her gaze drifted toward the twins, then back down again.
"We stopped talking after a while. It just hurt more."
She paused, then added, barely a whisper—
"I don't like remembering it."
A tear slipped down her cheek. Quiet. Unnoticed by her — but not by Piers.
Piers said nothing at first.
He simply reached out and gently rested his hand atop Lucienne's head.
Her shoulders flinched—but only for a second. She didn't pull away.
His voice, when it came, was quiet.
"...You're safe now. I promise."
A flicker of something passed through her eyes. Not quite trust. But maybe the start of it.
Piers closed his own eyes briefly and focused.
Appraisal.
The flood of information hit him instantly.
Lucienne
Race: Vampire
Age: 6
Health: Severely malnourished, signs of past physical trauma.
Mana: Suppressed, unstable.
Innate Talent: Shadow Manipulation (weak), Enhanced Senses (weak), Shadow Synchre (latent)
Notes: Introverted, deeply traumatized, fiercely protective of the others.
Ithiliel
Race: Elf
Age: 7
Health: Exhausted, evidence of untreated injuries.
Mana: Depleted, showing signs of forced exertion.
Innate Talent: healing (basic), Nature Sense (dormant)
Notes: Quiet, observant, relies heavily on her twin.
Ithilien
Race: Elf
Age: 7
Health: Exhausted, evidence of untreated injuries.
Mana: Depleted, showing signs of forced exertion.
Innate Talent: Martial Arts (basic), Nature Sense (dormant)
Notes: More outgoing than her twin, but equally traumatized.
Thog
Race: Orc
Age: 5
Health: Malnourished, signs of past physical trauma, evidence of infection.
Mana: Dormant.
Innate Talent: Brutal Strength (basic), Endurance (high)
Notes: Distrustful, aggressive due to past treatment, cannot speak.
Piers kept his hand on Lucienne's head a moment longer.
The weight of what he'd just seen — the appraisals, the damage, the sheer suffering behind each line — sat heavy in his chest.
They weren't just lost kids.
They were broken.
Barely holding together by instinct and scraps of trust.
He glanced at each one — the silent orc with haunted eyes, the elven twins quietly eating with one hand while the other remained tightly clasped between them, like a wordless anchor… and Lucienne, whose small shoulders had carried far too much.
His hand dropped slowly to his side.
"...I see," he whispered to no one in particular. "So that's how it was…"
His gaze returned to Lucienne.
"…Then I'll just have to make sure it doesn't happen again."
Gyuunyuu floated forward, her expression thoughtful, voice low and respectful.
"Master… maybe you should give them names.
It might help. A name is… something to hold on to. And it would also make it easier for us to talk with them."
Piers glanced at the children — still huddled close, still clinging to their food bowls like lifelines. His gaze softened. A quiet pang of sympathy stirred in his chest.
"You're right," he murmured. "But first… let's deal with those collars."
His eyes scanned each of their necks. Cold iron. Etched runes. Faintly glowing with old, cruel magic.
He raised his small hands. Mana gathered at his fingertips — soft and warm, not forceful. Carefully, gently, he guided it into the locks. One by one, the spells unraveled.
A click. Then another. And another.
The magic broke.
A quiet gasp passed through the group — a sound too small to match the weight of what had just been lifted. The silence that followed was heavy… but no longer suffocating.
Lucienne reached trembling fingers to her neck, touching the bare skin where iron had once dug in. Tears welled in her eyes. A shudder ran through her slight frame — not fear, not grief — just release.
The twins stared at one another, wide-eyed. Their hands hovered near their throats, as if unsure the weight was truly gone. Ithiliel whispered something too soft to hear, and Ithilien just nodded, frozen in place.
Thog blinked. Then raised his hands to his thick neck. No collar. His fingers curled tight into fists — then relaxed, then clenched again. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat. Not anger. Not pain. Just… astonishment.
Piers watched them, saying nothing for a moment.
Then… he smiled.
Soft. Quiet. The kind that came from somewhere deep and real.
"Okay," he murmured, voice low and warm. "Vampire girl… Luci."
The girl blinked. Her crimson eyes lifted, wide and uncertain — then softened.
"…Luci."
She repeated the name under her breath like it was something precious, the faintest shimmer of hope glinting behind her guarded gaze.
Piers turned next to the elven twins.
He studied them carefully — their faces, so alike and yet so different in the way they held themselves.
"You two… Lien and Liel."
They both looked up, startled — first at him, then at each other. Their eyes lit up.
"Lien," one whispered.
"Liel," the other echoed.
The twins exchanged a glance — eyes wide, breath held — then smiled.
Light bloomed across their faces like sunrise breaking through old fog.
Then finally to the orc.
His expression softened.
The boy sat still, watching. Wary. Wounded. Waiting.
"And you..." he paused, gentler now. "Thog."
The orc's brows knit. He blinked, unsure. Then slowly — slowly — a smile cracked across his face.
Rough. Hesitant. Real.
He didn't speak.
But his eyes said everything.
And then…
What the heck?
They started glowing.
A brilliant, blinding light exploded around them — swirling, pulsing, engulfing their bodies from head to toe.
Piers stumbled back a step, squinting.
Wait a second… this feels familiar…
Yeah. Just like when Mutou and Gyuunyuu evolved.
Their forms began to shift — bodies stretching, limbs lengthening.
They were aging right in front of him.
Faces sharpening. Postures straightening. Aura intensifying.
Their tattered slave rags didn't stand a chance.
RIP.
Gone in an instant.
Piers's eyes widened.
"Oh crap—"
Fabric couldn't keep up with magical puberty.
For a second, they were just glowing silhouettes…
"Then the light vanished — like someone yanking open the curtains." Pre-teens. No question. Maybe eleven or twelve — blinking at their transformed selves.
Except for Thog.
Liel and Luci blinked, looked down — and gasped.
immediately clutching at the remains of their clothing, faces flaming red.
They huddled close, scrambling behind Thog for cover, their eyes wide with panic and embarrassment.
Lien, meanwhile, looked less embarrassed and more offended.
"With one hand shielding what little remained of his dignity — and the other jabbing dramatically at Piers, like it was all his fault."
"Master!" he barked. "W-What did you do to us?!"
Piers hadn't really considered the clothing situation.
"Well, they definitely grew… guess I should've thought that through a bit more," he mused internally.
He scratched the back of his head, wincing.
"Uhh… heh… surprise growth spurt?"
Thog, on the other hand, was completely unfazed by the lack of clothing.
He stood a bit taller now — a muscular teenager, proud grin on his face as he casually flexed his arms.
His now more defined muscles bulged just enough to catch the light.
He admired them with the innocent pride of a kid who just found out he has abs.
Luci's crimson eyes glowed with a budding intensity.
Her once-slender frame was starting to show the first hints of adolescence — subtle curves forming, her movement gaining a smoother grace, a flicker of poise behind every motion.
Lien and Liel had also begun to lengthen, their youthful features sharpening slightly — the faintest promise of the elven beauty their bloodline held.
Their posture had shifted too — taller, straighter, more aware of themselves.
There was a quiet elegance brewing behind the awkwardness.
Just then, Styx walked in, arms full of warm blankets.
She paused mid-step.
Her eyes scanned the group — blinked — then locked onto Thog.
"Woah!" she gasped. "Baby elephant!"
Piers's soul left his body.
He sprang into motion, one hand shooting out instantly — covering Styx's eyes.
His face: a perfect storm of embarrassment, horror, and protective instinct.
"Blankets now, neesan. Eyes later," he hissed, face beet red.
The children — now blinking and shivering a little — wasted no time.
quickly grabbed the blankets Styx had brought and wrapped themselves up.
The initial shock faded into quiet relief.
Gratitude. Warmth.
As the initial shock began to fade, Liel stepped closer to Piers.
Her expression held a newfound determination — and a glimmer of reverent admiration.
She clutched her blanket tightly, her voice trembling but trying to be strong.
"Piers-sama," she began, eyes wide with earnestness, "I… I want to become your disciple."
She bowed slightly, her cheeks burning red.
"I'll follow you. I'll do everything I can to learn from you… to fight by your side. To protect you."
Despite her blush, her gaze didn't waver. Her resolve was clear.
Lien, standing just behind her, stepped forward as well, nodded firmly.
His pride was still bruised from earlier… exposure… but his eyes burned with equal fire.
"I, too, wish to become your disciple, Master," voice firmly.
"I know I'm weak now — but I will prove myself worthy. Please… accept me."
Luci followed next.
Her crimson eyes, calm yet intense, met Piers's gaze directly.
"I also wish to train under you, Piers-sama," she said, her voice soft but unwavering.
Her eyes flicked briefly toward him—then away.
And finally — Thog.
He said nothing. He didn't need to.
He stepped forward, towering above the others, and dropped to one knee.
He bowed low — one massive hand over his heart, the other on the ground.
No speech. No declaration.
Just absolute loyalty in his eyes.
A silent vow.
To follow. To serve.
To shield. To fight.
To protect.
Piers stared, stunned.
A flood of emotions slammed into him—confusion, disbelief, gratitude… and a tiny flash of panic.
They were serious.
They wanted to follow him.
To learn from him.
To protect him.
Wait… what?
He stepped back, blinking fast as that familiar inner bubble of chaos inflated in his chest.
Learn from me?
Hold on. HOLD ON.
I'm two years old.
TWO. YEARS. OLD.
As in — toddler.
You guys just grew up overnight and now you wanna follow me around like I'm some kind of aged master?!
They're all way taller than me now! and that one has a six-pack!
What am I even supposed to do—give them life advice and bedtime stories?!
His mental voice pitched into a shriek of disbelief.
This is going to destroy my peaceful reincarnated toddler life!
I didn't sign up for disciples! I signed up for naps!
Externally, he was frozen — noble and quiet.
Internally?
Screaming.
This is gonna RUIN my peaceful life, isn't it...?
But even with all his internal whining...
Their faces — so determined, so full of resolve — started chipping away at his resistance.
There was something in their eyes.
Hope.
Trust.
Something raw and real that he couldn't brush off with a joke or a sigh.
Piers opened his mouth to refuse.
Nothing came out.
He looked at them again — the way they stood too straight, too hopeful, like this answer would decide everything.
His chest tightened.
"…Alright," he said finally.
The word felt heavier than it should have.
"I accept."
Even as he said it, a thought whispered at the back of his mind:
This isn't something you can take back.