Time passed quickly.
The Arthas estate, usually quiet in its resilience, was now bustling with life. Servants moved in a synchronized dance, ensuring the grand hall remained immaculate for the occasion. Nobles and merchants filled the space, their refined chatter mingling with the soft melody of a string quartet that echoed through the stone corridors. Fine wine flowed freely, and golden platters bore delicacies that shimmered beneath the warm glow of ornate chandeliers.
At the center of it all, Julius Arthas, clad in a black tunic adorned with the emblem of his house, stood proudly with his son cradled in his arms. Licht Arthas, already a year old in body but lifetimes older in mind, gazed at the spectacle before him, his crimson-dark eyes reflecting the warm candlelight.
"Ah, this boy of mine is going to make waves in the future!" Julius declared, his voice rich with confidence. Laughter rippled through the crowd in response.
A portly baron, swirling his glass of wine, chuckled. "You're so confident, Julius. Perhaps we should arrange a marriage between my daughter and your son right now, eh? Secure a bright future for both of our houses!"
Julius grinned, patting Licht's back. "Well, why not? But only if your daughter can keep up with him, this boy is destined for greatness!"
A noblewoman nearby cooed at Licht, clasping her hands together. "Oh, look at those eyes! He's going to be a heartbreaker when he grows up. Antonette, you must be so proud."
Antonette, who had been engaged in polite conversation with a group of ladies, smiled and made her way over. With grace, she took Licht from Julius's arms, her touch gentle yet firm. "Of course, I'm proud. But don't go marrying him off just yet, Julius."
The group of women surrounded Antonette, their attention solely on Licht. A silver-haired lady in an elegant gown reached out and pinched his cheeks. "This boy is so adorable! Look at those rosy cheeks!"
Another noblewoman, stroking Licht's tiny hands, giggled. "And his little fingers! Such a perfect little gentleman already."
Licht felt a deep, inward horror at the endless cooing and cheek-pinching.
"This is torture," he groaned internally. "I was once a feared high-rank adventurer, and now I'm reduced to this? Someone, end this event already!"
The festivities finally ended, and Licht was placed back in his crib. The once-lively halls of the estate had fallen into a peaceful quiet, the only light in his room coming from the pale moon filtering through the window.
"Finally," Licht muttered inwardly, sitting up. "It's already past sundown. There's still plenty of time to train."
Raising his tiny palm, he focused. A medium-sized flame flickered to life in the center of his hand, its embers casting shifting shadows across the walls. The warm glow reflected in his deep crimson eyes as he poured more mana into the fireball, attempting to stabilize it.
But it was still weak.
"Still not enough," he whispered, frustration evident in his tone. "My mana pool is too shallow. I need to expand it further… At this rate, I can't even replicate a fraction of my former power."
His gaze drifted toward the window, lost in thought. "How can I go back to my homeland? I looked through a history book, but the map I knew didn't even exist in it. Maybe it hasn't discovered yet? Or is this the other side of the world that we never knew about in my past life"
he glanced at the calendar and spoke in a restless tone "July 26, Year 780 of the Third Epoch… The calendar is not the same from my homeland, I hope that those bastards are still alive."
Closing his eyes, he steadied his breathing and entered a meditative state. The ambient mana in the room responded to his will, converging around him like a gentle tide. The flame in his palm flickered, its edges sharpening as he refined his control.
For a moment, it seemed stable. Then.
Fsshh!
The orb dissipated, vanishing into thin air.
Licht clicked his tongue but quickly calmed himself. Losing focus wouldn't change anything.
"At this pace, I should reach Rank 1 by the time I'm two years old," he mused, his crimson eyes flickering in the dim light. "In my past life, it only took me 300 years to reach Rank 7, 3rd Stage… and now, I can't even break through the first rank."
His brows furrowed.
"There are nine ranks leading to the Apex Throne. Rank 9 is Luminary, followed by Rank 8, Archangel; Rank 7, Angel; and Rank 6, Demigod. The first five ranks belong to mortals."
He clenched his tiny fist.
"Yet here I am, struggling to reach even Rank 1 because of this symbol… It's siphoning away my mana."
A deep silence followed as he exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain composed. He wasn't impatient, he had endured lifetimes of hardship before, but the weight of his situation pressed heavily on him.
...
The next morning, the grand halls of the Arthas estate echoed with hurried footsteps.
"Young Lord! Stop right there!" a maid cried out, her patience fraying. "You need to take a bath!"
Licht, moving with the agility of an experienced adventurer despite his tiny frame, darted through the corridors like a gust of wind. His small feet barely made a sound against the polished marble floor, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he weaved through furniture and pillars, effortlessly avoiding the desperate grasp of his pursuer.
"No! I don't want to take a bath right now! I still have something important to do!"
The maid ranted, pushing herself to run faster, but no matter how much effort she put in, she couldn't close the distance.
"How is he so fast?!" she muttered while panting.
Unbeknownst to her, Licht had already infused his legs with Nymph's Flow, a speed-enhancing spell that made his movements as fluid as flowing water. To the maid's frustration, it was as if he were gliding effortlessly through the air.
In mere moments, he disappeared around a corner, leaving his pursuer behind.
"Ugh! Young Lord Licht!" the maid shouted after him, but he was already gone.
Licht smirked. "She'll never catch me at this rate."
He made his way to the estate's vast library, slipping inside unnoticed. Rows upon rows of bookshelves towered over him, filled with countless tomes on history and most importantly, magic.
Without hesitation, he reached for a book on intermediate magic and flipped through its pages, scanning the contents with sharp, discerning eyes.
After a few minutes, his expression darkened.
"This… is pathetic," he muttered under his breath.
The spells detailed in the book were, at best, basic and inefficient compared to the advanced magic he had mastered in his past life. Even the so-called "high-tier spells" were nothing more than mere refinements of fundamental techniques, lacking the complexity and sheer power of the magic from his homeland.
"Tch. Maybe this is just a trash magic book," he mused, tossing it onto the table.
Shaking his head, he set the book aside and sat cross-legged on the floor, closing his eyes. He entered a meditative state, his breathing slowing as he sensed the mana around him.
A strange pressure filled his chest, a familiar yet frustrating sensation, a bottleneck.
"Finally," he whispered, feeling the threshold within his mana sphere tremble. "I can advance to Rank 1 now… but I'll do it later. It's better to break through at night when I won't be seen."
With that decision made, he rose to his feet and stretched before making his way outside.
The backyard of the Arthas estate was vast and serene, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Amidst the well-maintained garden, a tall, broad-shouldered man sat leisurely on a stone bench, his sword resting beside him.
Licht's father, Julius Arthas, exuded an air of quiet authority, but his usual sternness softened the moment he caught sight of his son.
"Ah, there you are, my cheeky little troublemaker," Julius said with a chuckle.
Before Licht could react, his father playfully tapped his forehead with two fingers, his index and middle finger, a small gesture he often used as a sign of affection.
Licht frowned, rubbing his forehead. "Stop doing that to me."
Julius laughed. "Oh? You don't like it? But it's my duty as your father to remind you that you're still a little brat."
Licht crossed his arms, pouting slightly. "I am not a brat."
"Haha, sure, sure," Julius grinned. "Anyway, I have news for you. Count Ernest and his son will be visiting us this week."
Licht tilted his head slightly. "Count Ernest?"
"Yes. He's an old friend of mine. We fought together back in my adventurer days," Julius explained, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "His son is the same age as you."
"We'll be hosting a banquet to welcome them," he continued. "Try to get along with his son."
Licht remained silent for a moment before nodding. "Understood, Father."
Julius smiled. "Good. Who knows? You might even make a friend."
Licht glanced away, his expression unreadable.
'A friend? wishful thinking.'