[CC BY-NC by MCC]
Overly Excited Parents
"WHAT?! REALLY?!"
Elda jerked upright, her exhaustion immediately forgotten as she stared at Ryker in shock.
She could barely process what she had just heard.
Elda:
"Ry… are you serious?"
Ryker, still holding Ryfel high in the air like a victorious warrior, nodded furiously.
Ryker:
"YES! YES! He broke out of his crib—a crib that was just made! Look at his hands!"
He brought Ryfel closer to Elda's face, practically shoving their newborn in front of her.
Elda's eyes widened, scanning Ryfel's tiny hands.
The remains of crushed clay and shattered stone were still clinging to his chubby little fingers.
Her breath hitched.
Elda:
"Did we… did we just create a genius?!"
She covered her mouth, overwhelmed.
Her heart pounded in her chest as a new realization hit her.
Elda:
"I have never heard of a child who could use magic on the day they were born! Did the priest use some kind of special Ether on him? Was it a divine blessing?!"
Her voice wavered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
This was more than she could have ever hoped for.
But Ryker shook his head firmly.
Ryker:
"No—that's impossible! There is no such thing as special Ether. And even if there was, it wouldn't be in our Kingdom, let alone our District!"
He turned back to his son, his grip tightening protectively.
His grin widened into something filled with admiration and pride.
Ryker:
"He must have discovered it by himself!"
And that was all it took.
Elda burst into tears, completely forgetting her pain.
Ryker let out a victorious roar.
Then, in perfect synchronization, they both grabbed each other's hands—
And started spinning.
Ryker & Elda (spinning in circles, holding Ryfel up):
"OUR SON IS A GENIUS!!!"
Ryfel, dangling helplessly in his father's arms, was being twirled around midair like some kind of sacred lion cub held by a baboon shaman.
His baby brain struggled to comprehend what was happening.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"WAH?! WHAT ARE THEY DOING?!"
His tiny body swayed back and forth, the world spinning too fast for his still-developing senses.
Were they… happy?
Was this normal parenting behavior?
Or had he accidentally been born into a cult that worshipped strong babies?!
Ryfel (Thinking):
"Why do they look so happy?! Is it because I have super strength?! Is this world a place where everyone is born with superpowers?! WHAT KIND OF PLACE IS THIS?!"
The thoughts raced through his mind, but there was nothing he could do.
He was too small to fight back.
Too weak to stop them.
Too tired to care anymore.
His newly developed brain gave up.
His tiny head lolled forward, the dizziness overtaking him.
And before he could question his life choices any further—
He fell back asleep.
The last thing he saw was his overly excited parents grinning down at him like he was the greatest thing to ever exist.
A History Lesson… That Sounds Like Gibberish
For the next few days, Ryfel's new world expanded.
His family—his new family—spent time teaching him things.
Or, well…
They thought they were teaching him things.
Ryfel sat in Milal's arms, being fed while Ryker loomed dramatically over a giant book, his expression intense with purpose.
Ryker flipped the first page, clearing his throat.
Ryker:
"AHEM! Ryfel, my genius boy! Listen well!"
Ryfel's tiny baby brain braced itself.
Then—
Ryker (speaking):
"Hwuarg blarkta feh… CRITH!"
Ryfel (Thinking):
"…HUH?"
The words made no sense.
They weren't English. They weren't even close.
All Ryfel could hear were random, weird sounds strung together.
But Ryker kept talking, his hands gesturing wildly at the book, pointing at maps and drawings.
Ryfel focused, squinting his newborn eyes.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"Okay… he's definitely explaining something. I just have no idea what."
Ryker's voice grew louder, more dramatic.
He jabbed his finger at an illustration of a massive walled city, then to a tall tower surrounded by kingdoms.
Ryker:
"Blork minas-coooool! Runevia! RRRUUUNEVIA!"
His hand sliced through the air, his expression turning serious.
Ryfel tilted his head.
Even without knowing the words, he could tell one thing for certain.
This "Runevia" place?
It was important.
Maybe even dangerous.
The Language Barrier Struggle
Elda watched as Ryker excitedly monologued to their newborn son.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Elda:
"Ryker. He doesn't even understand us yet."
Ryker paused mid-sentence, blinking.
Ryker:
"…Oh."
Ryfel immediately sighed in relief.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"Finally! Maybe now we can move on—"
Ryker:
"Then that means I just have to teach him the language too!"
Ryfel (Thinking):
"Wait, WHAT?!"
Before Ryfel could mentally protest, Ryker leaned in close, his face filling Ryfel's entire blurry baby vision.
Ryker:
"Listen, my son. If you are truly a genius, then you will learn this quickly!"
He tapped his own chest.
Ryker:
"Ryyyyy-KERRR!"
Then, he pointed at Elda.
Ryker:
"ELL-DAAA!"
Then, he jabbed a finger at Ryfel himself.
Ryker:
"RY-FELLLL!"
He grinned triumphantly, like he had just unlocked the secret to the universe.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"Did… did this man just introduce me to my own name?!"
Milal giggled in the background, clearly entertained.
Ryfel couldn't understand full sentences yet, but he started picking up patterns.
The names? He got them.
The gestures Ryker made toward the book? He started associating words with images.
Whenever Ryker pointed at the map of Minas-Col, he would say the same word.
Whenever he pointed at the tower of Runevia, his tone darkened slightly, his brows furrowing.
Through tone, body language, and repetition, Ryfel began to pick up meaning.
Bit by bit.
Day by day.
But it wasn't enough.
Ryfel needed more.
As Ryker continued rambling in his proud fatherly way, Ryfel let out an involuntary whine.
Ryfel:
"Gaaaah! Baah!"
Ryker paused immediately.
Elda and Milal turned to look.
For a second, there was silence.
Then—
Ryker:
"HE SPOKE!"
Elda:
"He's just making baby sounds, Ry."
Ryker:
"NO! This is progress! He's already trying to speak our language!"
Ryfel internally groaned.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"No, you idiot but amusing dad!—I'm frustrated because I DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!"
But they didn't know that.
Instead, Ryker took it as a challenge.
He pumped his fists, standing dramatically.
Ryker:
"Alright! From today onward, we will speak to you as much as possible, so you learn faster!"
Milal snorted.
Milal:
"So… exactly what we've already been doing?"
Ryker:
"YES, BUT WITH MORE DRAMA!"
Elda shook her head, sighing again.
Meanwhile, Ryfel rubbed his tiny baby face.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"I need to learn this language. Fast."
The History of Crith – A Year of Learning
One year had passed.
Ryfel had long since outgrown his helpless newborn phase.
His tiny baby body had grown stronger. His movements were no longer clumsy, and his ability to understand the language had progressed rapidly—though speaking in full sentences still required some effort.
For an entire year, he had been fed knowledge by his family—his father's passionate lectures, his mother's patient guidance, and even Milal's casual storytelling while she worked.
Through sheer determination, observation, and the genius mind from his past life, Ryfel had finally pieced together the history of this world.
And what a history it was.
Crith – A World of War and Magic
Sitting on Ryker's lap, Ryfel watched intently as his father opened the large, ancient book once again.
This time, though—
He could understand.
Ryker:
"Alright, my boy, let's see how much you remember!"
He ruffled Ryfel's messy black hair with a tuft of gold, grinning as he pointed at a detailed map spanning across two pages.
Crith was divided into three dominant kingdoms:
Ryker:
"First, our home—Minas-Col!"
He tapped a detailed illustration of a fortified kingdom, surrounded by massive stone walls, with mist rolling over the landscape.
Ryfel blinked, staring at the map.
Ryfel:
"Mina…cool?"
His tiny voice struggled with the pronunciation, but Ryker beamed like he had just heard the greatest speech of his life.
Ryker:
"That's right, my boy! Minas-Col! The kingdom of survivors!"
Ryfel frowned slightly, staring at the drawings of walls and fog.
Ryfel:
"Sur…vivors?"
Ryker's expression softened.
He knelt slightly, adjusting Ryfel so he could look at him eye to eye.
Ryker:
"Son, do you know why our kingdom is hidden? Why we have walls so high, why the fog around us never lifts?"
Ryfel thought for a moment, before shaking his head.
Ryfel:
"Bad people?"
Ryker nodded firmly.
Ryker:
"Yes. Very bad people. People who have been trying to take away our freedom for centuries."
He pointed at the book again, his tone dropping lower.
Ryker:
"Minas-Col wasn't built by chance. It was built by those who ran. Those who escaped. Those who refused to kneel."
His fingers trailed across an illustration of refugees, their clothes tattered, their bodies weak but their eyes burning with determination.
Ryker:
"The people who built this kingdom were once kings, nobles, warriors—all forced to flee when their homes fell. But they didn't give up. They crossed the wilds, fought through the Outlands, and built something new."
Ryfel looked at the picture, then at his father's serious expression.
He could feel it.
Even without knowing every word—this was important.
Ryfel's tiny hand reached out, pointing at the tall walls in the drawing.
Ryfel:
"Safe?"
Ryker smiled, ruffling his hair.
Ryker:
"Yes, my boy. Safe. But only for now."
Ryker turned the page, revealing a chaotic, sprawling region, with dozens of different factions marked in various colors.
It looked messy. Unstable.
Ryfel tilted his head.
Ryfel:
"What… this?"
Ryker:
"That, my son, is Despera."
Ryfel blinked.
Ryfel:
"De…speh…wa?"
Milal, who was cleaning in the background, snorted.
Milal:
"Despera, Young Master."
Ryfel frowned. Why did every place sound so hard to say?
Ryker chuckled, tapping the book.
Ryker:
"Despera is a place unlike any other."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret.
Ryker:
"No kings. No rulers. No law."
Ryfel's eyes widened slightly.
Ryfel:
"No… king?"
Ryker:
"None. There, the strong rule, and the weak suffer."
He traced his finger across different symbols on the map.
A mercenary guild.
A black-market trade hub.
A mage clan with no allegiance.
Ryker:
"It is a land of assassins, smugglers, and criminals—but also warriors, merchants, and explorers. If you have gold or power, you can buy anything in Despera."
Milal, who had been listening, sighed dramatically.
Milal:
"It is also a place where people disappear."
Ryfel's tiny fingers clutched the book slightly.
Ryfel:
"Scary?"
Ryker chuckled.
Ryker:
"It depends. If you are strong, Despera is full of opportunity. But if you are weak?"
His smile faded slightly.
Ryker:
"Then you become someone else's opportunity."
The page turned again, and this time—
The entire book seemed to darken.
The next illustration showed a massive tower, stretching high above all other kingdoms, looming like a shadow over the world.
Ryfel immediately felt uneasy.
Even in a drawing, the place looked oppressive.
Ryfel:
"…Bad?"
Ryker's expression turned grim.
Ryker:
"Very bad."
He tapped the grand tower in the image.
Ryker:
"This is Runevia. The largest, most powerful kingdom in the world."
Ryfel stared at the illustration, processing the words.
Ryfel:
"Big… king?"
Ryker nodded.
Ryker:
"Yes. A king. And a kingdom where magic is everything."
He pointed at the figures in the artwork—mages dressed in lavish robes, standing over kneeling commoners.
Ryker:
"In Runevia, your magic decides your rank, your wealth, even your right to exist. If you are powerful, you rise to the top. If you are weak?"
His hand curled into a fist.
Ryker:
"You are treated like you are worthless."
Ryfel's small hands clenched slightly.
Ryfel:
"…Strong win?"
Ryker nodded, smiling bitterly.
Ryker:
"Yes, my boy. The strong win. Always."
Milal crossed her arms, her voice dry.
Milal:
"If that were all, it wouldn't be so bad. But Runevia does not simply seek power—they seek control."
She gestured toward the other conquered kingdoms in the artwork.
Milal:
"It is not enough for them to rule their own people. They believe they should rule everyone."
Ryfel exhaled, staring at the book.
He could feel it.
Even as a child.
Even without knowing everything.
Runevia wasn't just a kingdom of power.
It was a kingdom of conquerors.
And they had their sights set on Minas-Col.
Ryker closed the book with a soft thud, looking at his son.
His usual boisterous energy was absent.
This time, he spoke gently.
Ryker:
"This is the world you have been born into, my son."
He ruffled Ryfel's hair.
Ryker:
"And one day… you will have to find your place in it."
Ryfel's small hands clenched into fists.
A thought settled into his young mind filled with the experience of Marcus.
"I will win in this new world as well."
Magic: The System
The morning sun shone through the Redimir estate, casting a golden glow on the polished wooden floors.
Ryker, grinning like a child about to reveal a grand secret, stood before his family.
Ryker:
"Alright, my boy! It's time for your first magic lesson!"
He placed his hands on his hips, puffing out his broad chest, looking every bit like a proud noble lord.
Except—
A second later, he clapped his hands together.
Ryker:
"BUT FIRST! We must dress the part!"
Elda sighed, already predicting his antics.
Elda:
"Ry, we are still nobles—must you act as though we are simple farmers?"
Ryker (grinning):
"My dear wife! A true Lord of the Farmlands must be both noble and hardworking!"
Milal chuckled, already walking toward the wardrobe near the entrance.
Milal:
"Young Master, today you shall witness the great transformation of House Redimir—from Lords… to farmers."
Ryfel blinked, confused.
Then, before he could process it, his father whipped off his formal lord's coat, tossing it dramatically onto a chair.
Ryker:
"BEHOLD! THE ATTIRE OF THE TRUE FARMER-KING!"
In a matter of seconds, Ryker had changed into his signature sleeveless tunic, his leather utility belt strapped tightly around his waist, and pouches filled with seeds.
His formal boots were swapped for sturdy knee-high farming boots, built for trudging through fields and controlling soil.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"This man… is a walking embodiment of freedom, he would have been great in America ahahaha."
Elda, meanwhile, elegantly slipped out of her formal noble attire, replacing it with her light beige embroidered blouse and woven earth-tone skirt, still carrying an air of graceful authority despite the shift in style.
Milal helped adjust her sleeves, tying them properly for practicality.
Her noble elegance remained, but now she looked like someone who could walk through fields without dirtying her dignity.
Milal:
"There we go, Countess. As elegant as always."
Elda (smirking):
"I suppose it would be improper for the lady of House Redimir to be seen struggling in the fields."
Milal, too, quickly shed her more formal maid uniform, switching to her practical short-sleeved tunic, apron, and flexible boots—her fingerless gloves already prepared for work.
And then, finally—
Ryfel looked down at himself.
Adoruned in just a small, soft tunic that barely covered his chubby baby legs.
His face scrunched in dissatisfaction.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"Unacceptable. I used to wear the finest suits as a Vice President!"
But before he could protest, Ryker hoisted him up onto his shoulders.
Ryker:
"And now that we are properly dressed, it is time—TO THE FIELDS!"
Milal pushed Elda's wheelchair behind them as they stepped outside, the bright sun bathing them in golden light.
Ryfel's baby eyes widened, taking in the vast, breathtaking farmlands before him.
And in that moment—
His clothing crisis was completely forgotten.
Magic: The System
Magic: The System – The First Lesson Begins
The warm morning air greeted them as the Redimir family stepped outside, the golden fields of the Farmland District stretching endlessly before them.
Ryker, still grinning like an excited fool, took a deep breath, inhaling the crisp, earthy scent of fresh soil.
Ryker:
"AHHHH! Smell that, my love? That's the scent of prosperity!"
Elda shook her head, arms crossed, but the amused glint in her eyes betrayed her affection.
Elda:
"That's the scent of manure, Ry."
Milal stifled a laugh while Ryfel, still balanced on his father's shoulders, remained silent and observant.
His gaze flickered across the workers, his young mind already analyzing.
He saw a farmer motioning his hands, and instantly, a row of soil shifted, softening as if freshly tilled.
A woman raised a single finger, and a thin stream of water flowed gently through an irrigation path, never spilling beyond its intended course.
There were no wands, no incantations, no fancy theatrics.
Just will. Control. Command.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"They're not casting spells. They're directing the elements."
His tiny fingers curled slightly.
"This isn't magic like in fantasy stories. This is… something else."
But before he could process further—
Ryker suddenly grabbed him and tossed him playfully into the air.
Ryfel's entire soul left his body for a second.
Before he could internally curse his father, strong hands caught him midair, lowering him down gently.
Ryker:
"Now, my boy! It's time you see magic up close!"
Elda:
"Ry, could you stop throwing our son like he's a sack of grain?"
Ryker (grinning):
"NEVER! It builds character!"
Milal:
"It builds trauma."
As Ryker set Ryfel down onto the soil, the young boy turned his attention back to the farmers.
Their movements were too fluid, too natural for mere spells.
Every motion, every adjustment—they weren't forcing magic to happen.
They were working with it.
Ryfel narrowed his eyes.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"The soil shifts, but it doesn't break apart. The water flows, but it never spills uncontrollably. This isn't brute force. It's… cooperation."
A young farmhand walked past them, his hands coated in dirt. He knelt and pressed his bare palm against the soil, closing his eyes.
A few seconds later, the ground responded.
It moved.
Just slightly—almost imperceptibly. But to Ryfel, it was obvious.
Ryfel (Thinking):
"He's not commanding the earth. He's listening to it first."
His heartbeat quickened.
"So that means magic isn't just energy—it's an interaction."
Before he could think further, Ryker suddenly stomped the ground.
CRACK—BOOM.
The earth rumbled, and in the blink of an eye—three stone stools and a table rose from the soil in front of Elda and Milal.
Milal:
"That never stops being impressive, my lord."
Elda:
"Overdramatic as always."
Ryfel's baby fingers twitched slightly.
"Again, no chanting. No rituals. Just movement and intent."
Ryker, clearly enjoying himself, gestured for Elda and Milal to sit.
Ryker:
"Come, come! This is a proper lesson!"
Elda sighed but sat down. "If you say so."
Ryker then turned back to Ryfel, crouching before him with a wide, excited grin.
Ryker:
"Now, Little Ry, today you will learn the foundation of magic!"
He placed a strong hand on the stone table he had just created.
A faint ripple of mana pulsed outward. The earth hummed softly, responding to his presence.
Ryker:
"This… is mana."
Ryfel's tiny fingers curled instinctively.
"There it is again. That flow."
It wasn't just energy. It wasn't just some invisible force that obeyed whims. It was alive, waiting to be guided.
Ryker placed five small cups on the table in front of Ryfel. Each one held something different—a cup of earth, an empty cup, a cup with a small hole at the bottom, and the last two holding a leaf each.
Ryker:
"This world is filled with mana—it flows within us and around us in five different forms. A newborn is washed with Ether to open their Mana Pores, allowing them to connect with these forms."
Ryfel's eyes narrowed slightly.
"So the Ether bath was a diluted catalyst, just enough to let magic flow through the body... I need to figure out its exact properties later."
Ryker lifted the first cup, the one containing earth.
Ryker:
"Earth is the most common and the easiest to learn, as it surrounds us. However, only certain kinds of earth and rock can be moved."
With a slight motion of his hand, the soil within the cup floated up, swirling lazily in the air before settling back down.
Ryker:
"Only skilled magicians can manipulate different kinds of earth, which is why House Redimir is known for its ability to control multiple forms of soil and stone."
He spoke proudly, chest puffed up.
Ryfel stared at the floating dirt, his mind already working through possibilities.
"He isn't 'commanding' it… He's manipulating the mana already present in the material. That means if I can understand what makes up a certain material, I can control it better than even he can."
Ryker moved on, grabbing the canteen on his belt.
Ryker:
"Next is water—it's trickier because you always have to consider its flow."
He unscrewed the lid, waved his hand forward, and a thin stream of water floated out, coiling into the air before gently settling into the cup.
Ryfel watched carefully.
His father's movements were subtle—almost like an afterthought. The water followed as if it knew where to go.
"It's not about force—it's about intent. He's not lifting it—he's guiding it. But the question is… does mana already exist in the water, or is it just acting as a conduit?"
Ryker splashed some of the floating water onto a patch of crops, waving the rest into his mouth with a smug grin.
Ryker:
"For me, I mostly use it for watering my fields—nothing too fancy."
Milal giggled.
Milal:
"Yet you make it look dramatic every time, my lord."
Ryker:
"What's the point of being a 'magician' if you can't show off?"
Elda sighed.
Elda:
"So humble, my dear."
Ryfel suppressed a laugh.
"My father… He's a noble, but he acts like a performer. At least I know where I can get it from. We are really quite alike."
Ryker tapped the cup containing the leaf.
Ryker:
"Now for air. This one's different. It doesn't always listen."
He twirled his finger above the cup, and the leaf inside began spinning rapidly, caught in a small whirlwind.
Ryker:
"Air only moves when it wants to. If the wind is too strong, you won't be able to use air magic at all. It doesn't obey like the others—it flows freely."
Ryfel narrowed his eyes slightly.
"That means air doesn't have a constant state—it's dependent on the environment. If I learn how to predict those changes, I can manipulate it efficiently."
His father picked up the cup with the hole at the bottom, peering through it.
Ryker:
"Next, we have light. It's everywhere during the day, and faint at night. The magicians of ancient times discovered that mana in light only moves in straight lines."
He covered one eye, and suddenly, his left pupil turned completely black.
Ryker:
"I can do this much! I mostly just use it as a party trick to scare Elda or Milal."
Milal stifled a laugh.
Milal:
"And yet you scream the loudest when Lady Elda actually scares you back."
Elda smirked.
Elda:
"That's because he's all show, no defense."
Ryfel tilted his head.
"So light magic follows a fixed path. It moves in straight lines… that means it obeys refraction laws. If I learn how to bend it correctly, I can manipulate how it moves entirely."
Ryker's tone shifted slightly as he reached for the last cup—the one with the second leaf.
Ryker:
"Now, lastly, fire. It's the most dangerous, and the hardest to control."
Ryfel leaned forward slightly.
Ryker raised a single finger, and with a tiny spark, the edge of the leaf caught fire.
The flame burned only the leaf—not the cup, not the table, just the small piece of plant.
Ryker:
"Unlike the other elements, fire isn't stable. Once it starts, it spreads. And once it spreads too much, it becomes nearly impossible to control."
The flame burned until nothing but a small pile of ash remained.
Ryker:
"Imagine if I had done this in a field—the fire would have consumed everything."
Ryfel stared at the ashes, processing.
"Fire doesn't obey rules. It only obeys hunger. It's the only element that consumes rather than just moves."
That meant…
"If I could control how fire feeds, I could control how it spreads. Not just stop it—but manipulate it entirely."
He clenched his tiny fists, hiding his excitement.
"There's so much potential."
Ryfel's Growing Obsession
Ryfel sat silently, watching as his father grinned proudly after his demonstration.
He had so many questions.
Why does fire behave differently?
Why does light only move in one direction?
Why are water and air unpredictable?
Why can some earth be moved, but not others?
"There has to be a pattern. A system."
He felt his chest tighten.
For the first time since he was reborn, he felt something real.
He felt hungry.
Not for food—for knowledge.
"I need to learn more. I need to understand it all."
But before he could sink further into thought, Ryker suddenly lifted him into the air.
Ryker:
"Oh-ho! Look at that face! You're amazed, aren't you, my son?!"
Ryfel, caught off guard, let out a small giggle.
Elda raised a brow.
Elda:
"I think he's just excited about seeing something new, dear."
Ryker smirked.
Ryker:
"Oh no, my love. This is the face of someone who wants to learn more!"
Milal giggled.
Milal:
"It is quite adorable!"
Ryker:
"Oh, it seems like someone is very happy about seeing some cool new things! Hehehe! Let me also bring you around our district!"
With boundless energy, Ryker lifted Ryfel onto his shoulders once again, leading the family down the cobbled streets of the Farmland District.
The late afternoon glow bathed the town in warm hues as they walked through the bustling market streets. Vendors called out, selling freshly harvested crops, grain sacks, woven fabrics, and handmade tools. Street performers entertained children with simple magic tricks—earth shifting in their hands like clay, water twirling into shapes before gently falling back into bowls.
Ryfel took in everything, eyes darting from stall to stall.
"They live like this every day? Magic isn't just for combat or grand displays—it's part of daily life here."
Milal stopped by a fruit vendor, picking out a soft golden pear. She smiled at Ryfel before slicing it into small pieces and offering it to him.
Milal:
"Here, Young Master. You must be hungry after such a big day."
Ryfel blinked at the tiny fruit slice, then reached for it with his chubby hands.
He took a bite.
And froze.
"Holy—this is amazing! This is way better than anything I had back on Earth! How is this fruit so damn sweet??"
His eyes widened, and Milal chuckled.
Milal:
"Oh my, I think he likes it!"
Ryker roared with laughter.
Ryker:
"Hah! Of course he does! That, my dear Milal, is because House Redimir grows the finest crops in all of Minas-Col!"
Elda smirked, crossing her arms.
Elda:
"You say that as if you personally planted them all, dear."
Ryker:
"As the head of the district, I take credit for everything!"
Ryfel watched his parents banter, shaking his head internally.
"This family is something else…"
The Celebration – A Contender is Named
As the sun dipped lower, casting long golden shadows across the Farmland District, after a day of exploration, they approached the local hall—a grand wooden structure that stood at the very heart of the bustling marketplace.
Torches flickered to life, their warm glow mixing with the soft blue hues of floating magic lanterns, illuminating the courtyard. Hundreds of farmers, merchants, and craftsmen had gathered, their voices buzzing with excitement.
The scent of roasted meats, fresh bread, and aged wine filled the air as servers rushed about, making last-minute preparations for the biggest gathering of the season.
At the center of it all, Ryker stood tall, grinning like a man who was about to own the night.
Ryker:
"Ahhhh, now this is the kind of welcome a Lord deserves!"
He turned to Elda, smugly adjusting his belt.
Ryker:
"Feasts, speeches, celebration—and an entire hall filled with people ready to cheer my name! What more could a man ask for?"
Elda raised a brow, smirking.
Elda:
"Oh, I don't know… perhaps a little anticipation for what comes after the feast?"
Ryker froze for half a second—then turned to look at her, a slow grin creeping onto his face.
Ryker:
"Ohoho? My dear wife… are you hinting at what I think you are?"
Elda simply tilted her head, walking ahead into the hall without answering.
Milal giggled quietly, covering her mouth.
Milal:
"It seems my lady has given my lord something to look forward to tonight."
Ryker straightened his tunic, nodding to himself with a look of determination.
Ryker (grinning):
"First, we feast. Then, we celebrate. And then… well, the night is still young!"
Ryfel rolled his tiny eyes internally.
"This man is absolutely hopeless…"
The family entered the hall.
And instantly—
The room ERUPTED into cheers.
Crowd:
"Greetings to the Count of the Farmlands, Lord Redimir and Ménage!"
Ryker raised his hand, grinning.
Ryker:
"Your Lord acknowledges! Thank you to you, my district representatives!"
The cheers continued as Ryker led his family to the head table, where a massive feast was prepared. Plates of roasted meats, fresh bread, stewed vegetables, and fine wine were laid before them.
Ryfel's tiny nose twitched at the delicious smells.
"This district might not be the richest… but it's thriving. The people here aren't just surviving—they're proud."
Ryker suddenly stood, raising his cup high.
The hall fell silent.
Ryker:
"I come to you today, humbled as the head of you, the incredible cultivators of land. The providers of nourishment for Minas-Col and the foundation of our ascending Kingdom!"
The crowd stomped their feet in approval, the room trembling with excitement.
Ryfel watched with interest.
"He's commanding the room effortlessly. This isn't just a noble giving a speech—he's one of them."
Then—Ryker grinned, his voice booming.
Ryker:
*"It is with great news that I bare before you today… the Redimir House has finally bore a CONTENDER!!!"
The hall exploded into cheers, tables shaking as farmers banged their mugs against the wood.
Ryker:
"His name is Ryfel Richtung Redimir!"
He lifted Ryfel up high, presenting him to the district like a lion cub.
Ryfel blinked as the crowd roared in celebration.
"I… was not expecting this level of hype."
The room thundered with approval, chants of "Redimir! Redimir!" echoing through the space.
Ryker's grin widened.
Ryker:
"During the next 14 years, I plead for your support as we will guide our district back to the District Supreme of the Outer Courts!"
The farmers banged their mugs again.
Crowd:
"HERE HERE!"
Ryfel, still held aloft, internally sighed.
"I suppose my life here was never going to be simple."
Then—Ryker grinned wider, his voice sharp and commanding.
Ryker:
"From today onwards… we will Make. Our. District. Great. Again!"
The hall shook with applause, stomping, and cheers.
Ryfel nearly flinched.
"…Did this man just start a political movement with a dinner speech??"
Ryker:
"Enjoy the rest of your night, my friends—it is all on me!"
At that—
The cheering somehow got LOUDER.
A Quiet Moment
Later that evening, after the roaring celebration had slowed, the family stepped onto the balcony of the hall.
The moon hung high, illuminating the farmlands stretching out before them. The scent of fresh bread and soil lingered in the cool night air.
Ryfel, resting in Elda's arms, stared at the view.
It reminded him of home.
Not his new home.
His old one.
"Rural states back in America… The quiet fields, the peaceful skies. This feels… familiar."
A strange warmth settled in his chest.
"This new life… This new family… I really am grateful."
Ryker, standing beside Elda, smiled softly, looking out over the lands.
Ryker:
"You will be our pride and joy. Not just for this family, but for our district… and for our kingdom."
Ryfel looked up at him, the man who had so easily captured the hearts of hundreds tonight.
For the first time, he wondered—
"What does it really mean… to be a Redimir?"
That night, back at the estate, Elda and Milal gently set Ryfel down in his crib, tucking him in. Ryfel seemginly tuckered in…
As the door closed, Ryfel's eyes opened.
A single thought echoed in his mind.
"I have so many questions…"
He stared up at the ceiling.
"A grown man's mind, trapped in a baby's body. It's going to take me years to develop—not just physically, but mentally. And magic… it will take time to master."
He exhaled.
"I need a plan to grow as fast as possible. I am going to keep it simple."
He flexed his tiny fingers, feeling the lack of strength.
"Morning—wake up early, stretch, and test my muscles."
His eyes flickered as he recalled the words he'd overheard that day.
"Listen more. Learn the language. Copy sounds."
A soft breeze from the open window brushed his face.
"Feel mana. Observe how they use it. Experiment when no one's watching."
He took a deep breath, his small chest rising and falling.
"Night—meditate. Try sensing mana without touching anything. Repeat every day."
His eyelids grew heavy, exhaustion creeping in.
"This… should be enough for now."
And with that, Ryfel drifted off to sleep—the first step toward mastering his new world.