Thursday morning arrived with the grey light of impending doom. Astraea had slept little, her mind churning with plans to disrupt blood draws and X-rays—all of them risky, all of them likely to create more questions.
She dressed in the least-ill-fitting combination she could find: the CYAP sweatshirt again, and a pair of Mrs. Evans' old linen drawstring pants, cinched tightly and rolled into bulky cuffs. She looked absurd, but it covered her.
Mrs. Evans was quiet at breakfast, her eyes rimmed with sleeplessness. The appointment card sat between them on the table like a judge's gavel.
Just as Astraea was taking her last sip of juice, a familiar, cheerful chime echoed in her mind. But this time, it was followed by a sound she'd never heard from the System before: a discordant, staticky buzz.
[System notification!]
[Processing... Processing user data...]
[Anomaly detected: Growth metrics.]
[Comparative analysis: User 'Astraea' - Apparent age: 10.25 years. Physical development rate: Exceeding documented human parameters by 5,400%.]
[Recalibrating growth benchmark... Error.]
[Recalibrating... Error.]
[Accessing medical database for 'Gigantism', 'Precocious puberty', 'Awakened acceleration syndrome'... No match.]
[User height increase: 10.2 cm in 10 days. Projected weekly gain: 7.14 cm. Projected monthly gain: 28.56 cm.]
[Conclusion: User will exceed standard clothing sizes within 11 days. Will exceed doorframe height compatibility within 47 days. Will necessitate architectural modification within 90 days.]
[This is... not typical.]
The message hung in her consciousness, devoid of its usual exclamation points and cheerful asides. The tone was flat, analytical, and finally, confused. The System had run the numbers, and the numbers made no sense.
[Query: User Astraea. Are you experiencing 'growing pains'?]
The question was so simple, so childlike in its phrasing, yet it came from a place of genuine systemic befuddlement. Astraea almost answered it aloud.
[Supplemental data required. Please describe physiological sensations.]
The System was silent for a long moment. She could almost feel it whirring, cross-referencing its simplistic databases with her input.
[Diagnostic: Symptoms consistent with... dragon juvenile growth spurt. Reference: Mythological archive, subsection: Draconic biology. Classification: Non-human.]
[Conflict: Primary classification: 'Luminous child (Tier 0)'. Secondary data suggests: 'Draconic juvenile'.]
[System priority: Maintain user well-being and social integration. Current growth pattern incompatible with social integration. Projection: User will be identified as anomalous within 14 days.]
[Proposed solution A: Suppress growth via [Soothing lullaby] skill. Mana cost: High. Efficacy: Low against draconic biology.]
[Proposed solution B: Alter perception of observers via [Cute and small] aura. Mana cost: Moderate. Risk: May cause cognitive dissonance in observers.]
[Proposed solution C: Reclassify user.]
Reclassify. The word hung in the air, heavy with potential.
[Full system reboot. Integration of draconic biology module. Updated quests. Altered stat tracking. Potential loss of 'Luminous child' perks. Time required: 24-48 hours. User may experience 'glitches' during process.]
A full reboot. The System acknowledging, on some fundamental level, what she was. It wouldn't solve her hunger or stop the growth—those were biological facts—but it might stop giving her quests to make friendship bracelets and start giving her... useful information. It might stop misinterpreting her actions. It might become an asset instead of a parody.
But it would also be an admission, within the framework of her own mind, that the "Luminous Child" lie was over. That she was moving into a new, more dangerous phase.
[User input required: Proceed with reclassification? (Y/N)]
Mrs. Evans looked up from her coffee. "You're very quiet, sweetie. Worried about the blood test?"
Astraea looked at her, at the genuine concern etched on her human face. She thought of Leo, researching medical alibis. Of Mia's plants leaning toward her silver light. Of the inevitable confrontation coming when the tests revealed the impossible.
She couldn't stop being a dragon. But maybe, just maybe, she could get a System that understood what that meant.
[Acknowledgement. Initiating reclassification sequence.]
[Warning: Temporary instability expected.]
[Downloading 'Draconic biology module'... 1%...]
A wave of dizziness washed over her. The kitchen seemed to tilt. The cheerful mural on the pediatrician's appointment card swam in her vision.
"Astraea?" Mrs. Evans was beside her in an instant, hand on her forehead. "You're pale. Are you feeling sick?"
"Just... dizzy," Astraea muttered, which was true. It felt like someone was rewriting the instruction manual of her own mind behind her eyes. Files were being moved. Categories deleted and rebuilt.
[5%... Integrating 'Mana digestive system' parameters...]
Her stomach growled, not with hunger, but with a strange, shifting sensation, as if new organs were being conceptually mapped into place.
[12%... Updating 'Physical stat' algorithms. 'Cuteness' stat deprecated. 'Scale hardness' stat added. 'Wing span' tracking initialized...]
The numbers in her mental display flickered. The +5 to "Sparkle Precision" she'd gotten for a CYAP exercise glitched and was replaced by a pulsing, undefined icon.
"Maybe we should postpone the appointment," Mrs. Evans said, her worry spiking. "If you're coming down with something..."
"No!" Astraea said, sharper than intended. She needed to keep that appointment. A sudden cancellation after her "dizziness" would look even more suspicious. "I'm okay. Really. Just stood up too fast."
[34%... Installing 'Cosmic entity' support protocols... Error. Insufficient data. Deferring...]
[51%... Recalibrating 'Age' display... Switching from human years to dragon years... Current estimate: 38 dragon years. (Chronological: 437). Stasis penalty: 89% resolved.]
Thirty-eight. She was biologically a year older than she'd been when the famine hit. The thaw was real, measurable in the very core of her being.
The dizziness subsided, replaced by a strange, double vision. She could see the kitchen normally, but overlaying it was a faint, shimmering grid of mana lines—the latent energy in the wiring, the water pipes, the residual magic in Mrs. Evans' simple protective charms. The System was giving her a draconic sense, imperfectly integrated.
"Let's get you to the doctor," Mrs. Evans said, her decision made. "They can check for whatever's causing the dizziness too."
The car ride was a blur of flickering system messages.
[78%... 'Quest generation' module updating... New directive: Support user's survival and species-appropriate development.]
[89%... 'Social integration' module recalibrating... New directive: Foster understanding, not conformity.]
They arrived at the medical clinic. The waiting room was a cacophony of overlapping mana signatures from other Awakened children—weak, fluctuating, human. Astraea's own signature, usually tightly contained, felt like a roaring bonfire next to candles. She pulled it in, straining.
[99%... Compiling new user interface...]
"Astraea Evans?" a nurse called.
As she stood to follow, the final message appeared, clear and devoid of all previous cheer.
[Reclassification complete.]
[New primary classification: Anomalous growth pattern (Draconic juvenile)]
[Subclassification: 'Really special kid' removed. New subclassification: 'Chronologically displaced entity - Juvenile phase'.]
[Welcome, Astraea. My diagnostic protocols were 99.97% inaccurate. I am now... recalibrated. How may I assist your continued development?]
The tone was respectful. Quiet. It asked a question instead of issuing a cheerful command.
Astraea followed the nurse down the hall towards the blood draw room, the cold fear of discovery still knotted in her stomach. But for the first time, she didn't feel alone in her own head. The voice in her mind was no longer a foolish stranger. It was an assistant that finally, finally, understood the scale of what she was.
The hunt for a miracle was still on. The tests still loomed. But she had a new tool. A System that now knew it was helping a dragon grow up, not a child make friends.
The cheerful, clueless voice in her head had fallen silent. In its place was a calm, attentive presence that saw the dragon in the child-sized clothes. The fight to stay hidden just got harder—and for the first time, she had proper backup.