Life as a toddler turned out to be far more boring than I had imagined.
At the age of three, my world was confined to the wooden walls of our hut and the high fence surrounding the backyard. As someone with the memories of an adult man, being trapped in a body with uncoordinated movements was a subtle form of torture.
However, I learned to be patient. I spent most of my time in the yard, sitting on the roots of an old tree while watching my father, Ren, prepare his gear.
It was impossible for a child my age to venture into the lush, dangerous forest. My father was a professional hunter; he knew all too well that bringing a stumbling toddler into predator territory was an act of suicide.
"Stay here with your mother, Aamon," Father would say every morning while tightening his boot laces. He would give me a small bow made of light wood—merely a toy to keep me from being fussy while he was away.
I would simply nod, trying to react like an obedient child. "Yes, Father. Be careful."
While Father was away, my world shifted to Mother. Amanda was a quiet but hyper-vigilant figure. Often, I would find her standing still by the window, staring into the forest with a sharp gaze, as if she could hear sounds that I could not.
One time, while I was trying to chase a butterfly in the yard, I tripped and fell. The physical pain was ordinary, but at that exact moment, my chest felt as if it had been struck by a crushing weight. It was suffocating, cold, and agonizing.
[System: Detecting emotional and physical fluctuations.]
[Warning: Internal Mana flow is colliding with the external barrier (Seal).]
I gasped for air, clutching my chest. It felt as if something was trying to explode out of me, yet was held back by incredibly strong chains.
Mother immediately rushed out of the hut. Her beautiful face was deathly pale. She didn't ask if my knee was hurt; instead, she placed her hand directly on my back. I felt a soothing coldness flow from her palm, gradually easing the tightness in my chest.
"Don't push yourself too hard, Aamon," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "Breathe slowly."
"Mother... it hurts in here," I said, pointing to my chest, trying to seek answers in the most innocent way possible.
Mother remained silent for a long time. She hugged me tightly, and for the first time, I smelled a faint scent like the air after a storm—sharp yet cold—emanating from her body.
"It's just because you're growing, sweetheart. Don't worry. Mother will always protect you."
I knew she was lying. No growth ever felt like being shackled by iron chains.
As time went by, I began to notice a strange routine. Every night before bed, Mother would stroke my back until I fell asleep. I later realized, through the visual assistance of the System, that each stroke was actually her way of strengthening "something" inside my body.
I didn't know yet about the terms 'Seal', the 'Empire', or the 'House of Vio'. To me at this moment, Father was just a great hunter, and Mother was my protector who kept a great secret behind her deep violet eyes.
Even though I couldn't go into the forest, I used the yard as my small "training ground." I crawled, climbed stacks of firewood, and learned to control my breathing so that the suffocating sensation wouldn't return. I had to prepare this body. Because for some reason, my instincts as an adult told me that this peace felt too fragile—as if we were merely waiting for a storm that was only a matter of time away.
Current Status:
•Name: Aamon (3 Years Old)
•Condition: Physical body beginning to adapt to the presence of the Seal
•Relationships: Extremely close to Amanda; beginning to faintly sense his mother's mystic powers
|Knowledge: Still very limited to the household surroundings