Nathan – POV

  After the whole incident with the murders of Bret and his men, life went on as if nothing had happened. The town buzzed with rumors for a few days, but soon the official story was announced: Bret had been murdered by one of his own men.

  A convenient lie.

  I knew the tactic well. Pin the blame on one of the dead so the case can be closed neatly. No loose ends, no uncomfortable questions. It was the kind of cover story I’d seen a hundred times back on Earth.

  There was no mention of demons, no whisper of the crimes Bret and his cohorts had committed. It was as if they had been struck down by lightning, a natural disaster, nothing more. The truth buried under layers of silence.

  Not that it mattered to me.

  What disturbed me, however, was how fickle life was in this medieval society. One day you’re alive, swaggering around town, abusing women, and the next you’re dead, your name erased, your sins forgotten. Was this how it had been back on Earth during the Middle Ages? I’d read about it, sure, but living it was another matter entirely.

  Before I could focus on my plans for self?improvement, another problem reared its ugly head: the baron’s son.

  That scumbag.

  If he inherited the barony, his depravity would be unleashed on the people. My mother, perhaps even my sister, would be subjected to it. The thought made my blood boil.

  But what could I do? Should I order Krizek to handle another murder? The implications of being caught were no joke. Jakob had already sensed Krizek once, and I was certain there were others in town with similar abilities. If word spread that a demon was roaming around, it would cripple my efforts before they even began. I couldn’t afford to waste this early advantage.

  Summoning Krizek at home was too risky. That left only one place: the tavern. Back then, no one noticed him. It was the safest option.

  When we arrived at the tavern, I was once again subjected to the usual manhandling by the women. For reasons beyond me, they always seemed to enjoy pressing my face into their bosoms. Impressive as they were, I wasn’t too keen on dying of suffocation just yet.

  “Nathan is getting cuter every day,” Nina cooed. “I’m sure he’ll have plenty of women chasing after him when he grows up.”

  “If he grows up to be a looker, I wouldn’t mind being his woman,” Cecil said with a mischievous grin.

  “You’ll be thirty when he’s sixteen,” Jenna shot back.

  “If Nathan doesn’t mind the age difference, then neither will I,” Cecil smirked, wrapping an arm around my mother. “Besides, I’m very good friends with his mother.”

  “Please, Cecil,” Dianne said placatingly. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

  What the hell? My mother was okay with her son having relations with a woman twice his age? What kind of culture was this?

  My confusion was answered by Nina. “That’s not so bad. One of my son’s wives is already fifty years old. And my son is still twenty, mind you.”

  “I’ve seen stranger things,” Jenna added. “I know of a noble lady, only eighteen, married to a seventy?year?old duke.”

  “Was he a mage?” Dianne asked.

  “Yes. A powerful one, I think,” Jenna replied.

  “Mana does that,” Dianne explained. “The more mana you have, the longer you live. I’ve even heard stories of high?level people reaching five hundred years old.”

  “I wish I were that talented,” Cecil sighed.

  “With low?level common folk, the best they can do is eighty,” Jenna said. “That’s when they start to age. By a hundred, they’re wrinkled and gray.”

  “Girls, enough of that,” Nina interrupted. “Let’s start the day already.”

  “Yes, Madam Nina,” they chorused.

  At that point, Mother whispered something to Nina that made her blush. Probably a message from Sir Robert.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Their whole conversation caught my attention. The more mana you had, the longer you lived. Interesting. High level meant high mana. That was useful information. I already suspected I had a large mana pool for my age, but I couldn’t verify it until I could speak openly with my parents.

  More things to learn.

  As soon as Mother left me in my crib in the kitchen, I summoned Krizek.

  The familiar voice echoed in my head as he appeared before me; his form faintly transparent. He must have been using his lesser invisibility spell.

  “You called, Master?” Krizek rasped.

  “Hi there, Krizek. How was your nap?”

  “As usual, Master. Boring.”

  “I’m sorry I had to unsummon you. Somehow my father was able to detect you.”

  “Do not worry, Master. Humans are fickle when it comes to us demons.”

  “Can you tell when someone detects you?” I asked.

  “Always, Master.”

  “Good. I have a job for you.”

  The moment I said it, his bloodlust surged. I could practically feel the malice radiating from him.

  “Krizek, your murder aura is oozing,” I commented dryly.

  “My apologies, Master. I got excited.”

  “Learn to mask it. Otherwise, you’ll be detected too easily.”

  “Yes, Master. I will.”

  “Now, for your mission. Find the baron’s son. Observe him. Learn everything you can.”

  “Kill him?” Krizek asked hopefully.

  “Not yet. I want to know who he’s connected with. Why he hired thugs like Bret.”

  “Your will is my command, Master.”

  “Be careful. Don’t approach me when my father or others who can sense you are nearby. Contact me telepathically instead.”

  “Understood, Master.”

  With that, he melted into the shadows; his form vanished even as the faint shimmer of his invisibility spell lingered.

  I leaned back in my crib, staring at the ceiling. I could have ordered Krizek to kill the baron’s son right then and there. But that would have been shortsighted. I needed information first. Connections, weaknesses, opportunities.

  I had a feeling I could profit from that douchebag before ending him.

  Later that night...

  Although I had begun babbling the usual baby talk... “mama,” “dada,” and other simple words, I never dared to form full sentences or attempt anything complex. Outwardly, I was just another toddler, wobbling on unsteady legs and taking slow, halting steps.

  In truth, my physical stats skyrocketed far beyond what my frail body suggested. I stumbled, crawled, and pretended weakness, but beneath the act, my mobility was steadily sharpening. Every second of it grated on me. My numbers didn’t lie. By my calculations, an average ten-year-old should have around ten points in each physical stat. Yet here I was, not even two years old, already boasting the stats of a level 16 individual. Ridiculous. I could only laugh at the absurdity, though I still couldn’t fully confirm the hypothesis.

  Regardless, I had already mapped out my training. First, I would master the shadows and the fel. Second, I would hone my body, pushing my physical stats even higher. And third, weapon mastery. I refused to become a fragile glass cannon like so many mages in fiction, and perhaps even in reality. My memories of Marine and Delta training were still sharp, and I could emulate those regimens here.

  As for weapons, firearms like the M4A1 or SAW were out of the question. Instead, I would dedicate myself to swords, spears, and hand-to-hand combat. Surely this world had its own martial arts I had yet to discover. Until then, I would work with what I knew.

  Even now, crawling across the dirty floor of our home, I had to restrain myself from dropping into push-ups or squats. It would look far too strange to my family. Still, my training program was already ironed out. All I needed was patience.

  For knowledge, I relied on my internal search engine, my so-called “doodle.” Yes, the name was terrible, but it served its purpose. Manuals, techniques, anything I could scrape together would be invaluable. Ignorance was my greatest enemy. I didn’t even know the name of this world yet, and that ignorance gnawed at me.

  That was my curse: a mind overflowing with curiosity, an insatiable hunger to learn.

  It was then that a familiar voice broke my thoughts.

  “Master…” Krizek whispered to me telepathically.

  “Yes, Krizek?” I replied.

  “I have been following the baron’s son, Guy Fredrick. I’ve learned much.”

  “Go on.”

  “The man has been hiring mercenaries to capture people and sell them as slaves, right under his father’s nose. He acquires them from neighboring lands, though not here.”

  I frowned. “Hmmm…”

  “Shall I eliminate him, Master?” Krizek asked, his voice dripping with glee.

  “Not yet,” I said, which made the imp’s grin falter which I could sense in my mind. “Instead, I want you to steal his gold. Take everything you can and hide it where no one will ever find it. When there’s nothing left to steal… then you may kill him.”

  Krizek’s eyes gleamed with malice. “With pleasure, Master. I will hide the treasures for you and offer his life to your glory.”

  “Err… sure,” I replied. The link snapped shut, leaving silence in its wake. Telepathy really was convenient...especially when you were plotting to rob and eventually kill a pompous bastard. I had suspected Guy Fredrick was rotten, but this confirmed it. Slavery, corruption, greed...typical isekai villain fodder. I couldn’t help but smirk. Was I really living inside one of those trashy web novel plots?