Kian Goldmaul POV

  I’ve been in this world for two months now. The good news? I still have my memories from my past life. The bad news? I’m so goddamn weak.

  But I’ve noticed something interesting: humans here seem to grow stronger and develop faster than in my old world. I can already move my limbs and my head with ease, although I still can’t crawl properly. But at least I can sit up now with the help of my parents of course.

  I shift my head slightly, eyes wandering around the house.

  Another thing I’ve picked up: this world has electricity. But unlike Earth, it’s powered by a unique form of energy called Veythar. It’s similar to mana, but far more versatile.

  Apparently, it doesn’t just fuel magic or physical reinforcement. It exists everywhere we breathe it in alongside oxygen.

  My mother, Mira, walks over to me and gently picks me up from my crib.

  “Well then, little Kian, you’re old enough now to leave the house without worrying about getting sick. So your father and I are going to take you on a walk while we buy some vegetables and new clothes for you,” she says with a warm smile.

  “Let’s get going already, Ronan!” she calls out to my father.

  “Coming! Coming!” his voice answers from another room. Moments later, he rushes out in a comically exaggerated fashion.

  Speaking of comedy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad act serious except when we were leaving Count Thaddeus’s manor.

  At all other times, he’s bursting with what can only be described as pure joy. It’s like watching a cartoon character in real life minus the exaggerated physics.

  …

  …

  …

  We’re now walking through what I assume is the city we live in.

  All the houses are made of the same bricks as ours. Though it’s only a small city, it’s better than any city I’ve ever seen in my past life and way too big for what counts as “small” in my past life. There’s children’s laughter, soft public music that doesn’t overlap, and street performers scattered along the paths.

  I turn my head, taking in the city’s layout. Towering buildings. Open squares filled with people. Roads where Gliders or car drive by silently, wheelless vehicles that float slightly above the ground. They have no visible engine, just a trunk and a slightly aerodynamic front, with windows on the sides, front, and back. They make no noise, produce no gases.

  “We should’ve just taken a Glider,” my father says, pouting as he watches one pass by.

  “The market’s close. No need to spend 20 Marks renting one when we’re not even buying much,” my mother replies.

  We soon enter a busier area a market filled with people, merchants, and chatter, filled with the smell of cooked meat, vegetables, and fresh bread.

  I look around, noting the clothing stalls, meat vendors, bread stands, and more.

  At the center of a large fountain stands a knight-like statue, surrounded by chairs and plants.

  Even a random spot on this “small” city has fountains and statues, huh.

  As we walk through the crowd, I catch people glancing at my father. More specifically, they’re staring at him because of his height some with surprise, others with curiosity.

  But as I look at my father head I notice his horn has disappeared, likely hidden. That only deepens my own interest. What do those horns even mean?

  I let out a soft coo, trying to get his attention from within my mother’s arms. The noise of the market delays his response, but he eventually notices after multiple coos.

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  “Mira, look! Look! He’s calling for me!” he says with his usual beaming grin. “What is it, little guy? Tell me and I’ll do whatever you want!”

  “Oh, please, honey,” my mother replies, rolling her eyes. “He’s just a baby. He can’t talk yet. He’s probably curious about something. Follow his gaze and try to guess.”

  ‘Nice assist, Mom!’ I think, and point with my tiny hand toward his horns.

  “Hmmm… Oh! Your wondering why my horns are hidden? and your probably wondering why I’m the only one in city who has them, huh? You are, aren’t you? Hahaha!”

  I stare at him, unimpressed.

  “Cough, cough,” my mother says with a fake little cough to cut off his laughing fit.

  “Oh right, my horns!” He clears his throat. “Well, they’re considered secondary cores something certain people develop after fully upgrading their primary core. As for why they’re hidden it’s work reasons”

  Then he stops. That’s it.

  Wait, wait what do you mean by cores? And why would someone need a secondary one after already having a primary core? Explain more, old man! Are you seriously giving such a short explanation to a literal baby?!

  Then again… I am a baby.

  I puff out my cheeks dramatically in frustration.

  “Oh, Mira, look! He’s pouting how adorable!” He reaches out and gently pinches my cheek.

  I try to swat his hand away, but he misinterprets the gesture as affection.

  “He’s holding my hand! I knew you liked your daddy!” he exclaims proudly.

  “Let me hold him, Mira, pleeease.” He says pleadingly

  “No can do you might drop him.” my mother replies firmly.

  “Oh come on, I’m a Environmental Magician! There’s no way I’d drop him. I’ll also be extra careful.”

  “No means no.” she says again, this time with finality, and proceeds to ignore him for the rest of the day.

  Well, that at least explains what horns are, not some racial or status trait. Hmm. If horns come from core upgrades… and he’s the only one here with them in this city… does that mean he’s stronger than everyone else here? Or just different?

  ‘And he did mention being a Environmental Magician is that his job? A rank? A class? Ugh, it’s so frustrating being a baby being unable to ask questions!’

  …

  …

  …

  We return home as the sun begins to set down. My father carries multiple bags.

  My mother places me back in my crib. “Alright, little Kian, it’s time to eat,” she says walking over to the cabinet.

  She pulls out a feeding bottle fills it with milk and heats it using the heater one that seem to not produces any flames or visible heat.

  I refused to drink directly from the source early on, so she’s used the bottle ever since.

  Once it’s warm enough, she lifts me slightly and feeds me. After I finished she lays me back down gently and pulls my cover over me.

  “Okay, little Kian. It’s gotten dark. Time for sleep.”

  She turns off the lights by touching a flat, crystal-like pad nothing like the switches back on Earth. I assume it activates through sensors.

  As the room darkens and the soft glow of baby lights remains, my thoughts drift back to something Dad said earlier cores.

  Based on what I’ve gathered; cores must be what people use to manipulate Veythar. They’re likely the equivalent of a mana core or spiritual node, like in the fantasy novels I read in my past life. But here’s the real question: do they form naturally, or do people have to create them?

  ‘What if I try meditating?’ The idea hits me suddenly. ‘In those stories, meditation is how you connect with your core. Maybe I can do the same.’

  I close my eyes and focus, trying to sense my body every breath, every muscle. At first, nothing happens. But I relax, syncing my breathing and thoughts. After a while, I start to feel something… a slight warmth near my heart. It feels as though something inside me is growing with each breath something that isn’t a natural organ.

  I slow my breathing, focusing on that warmth. It feels strange not fully formed, but as if molten glass is slowly shaping itself into a sphere.

  ‘That must be the core. It’s still forming… although I cant see it but I feel it. And if it grows with Veythar, that means it’s built from the energy I’m constantly breathing in. if so does it begin forming at birth?’

  Satisfied with the discovery, I open my eyes for a moment, then close them again.

  ‘Alright. Step one: confirmed. Its time to sleep.’

  I drift into a peaceful slumber, the faint presence of my forming core pulsing softly inside me.

  Chapter End