Plummeting headfirst into the void, Leon felt as though he was being dragged into a vortex of cruel fate. Day after day passed, yet the bottom of the clouds remained unseen. His shrunken body, now that of a baby, made even the slightest breeze feel like a gale threatening to tear him apart.
"Damn it!" Leon screamed in his mind, but the yell merely echoed within his tiny head. "Am I going to die such a ridiculous death? That damned Grandma Merlin! She turned me into a baby! Is this truly the end before I even hit the bottom?! How much longer will I keep falling!?"
Having cultivated for thousands of years as a Grand Master of martial arts and magic, he was now utterly helpless. His steel muscles, his formidable spells, all were gone. He could only resign himself, drifting helplessly, like a lone leaf in an endless storm. A cold sensation slowly enveloped him, threatening to swallow his consciousness, pushing Leon to the brink of life and death.
After what seemed like an eternity, a sudden ray of light pierced through the clouds. Leon felt a violent impact, yet strangely, there was no pain. He had landed in a clear lake, in the middle of a tranquil fishing village nestled within a peaceful pastoral landscape. His body floated on the surface, unconscious.
Jamet, a sun-tanned fisherman with a weathered net, was surprised to see a large ripple in the middle of the lake. "A big one!" he exclaimed, his eyes gleaming, imagining a bountiful catch. He quickly rowed his boat closer, his heart pounding with anticipation. But instead of a giant fish, what he found was... a baby.
"What in the world is this!?" Jamet almost flipped his boat. "Why is there a baby here!? And strangely... it's floating and still breathing!" He carefully pulled Leon's small body from the water and carried him to his crude shack, a dilapidated hut barely fit for living.
"Whose child have you brought home, Jamet!?" The voice of Jamet's wife, Eka, rang from the doorway. She was a sturdily built and efficient woman, often bad-tempered.
"I-I found this child in the lake, Eka. It seems... abandoned by its family..." Jamet stammered in response, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
Eka narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him. "You're not lying, are you, Jamet? This isn't some secret child with that widow from the village across the way, is it!?" Her voice was laced with accusation.
"I swear, Eka! By the biggest fish I've ever caught, it's not mine!" Jamet pointed to the sky, swearing like a curse.
Eka gazed at the still unconscious Leon, a cunning calculation in her eyes. "Good. In that case, the slave traders will pass through this village soon. Let's sell this child!" A sly smile played on her lips, already imagining the gold coins in her hand. It was a smile more frightening than anger.
"Eka! How cruel!" Jamet's eyes widened in shock. "Don't you feel sorry for this child? Besides, he looks quite chubby and healthy!"
"Don't you want money!?" Eka challenged him with a menacing glare.
Jamet's eyes lit up at the word "money." His greedy nature surfaced, overriding his humanity. "Of course I do! Alright, let's sell him! Such a healthy child will surely fetch a good price!"
Leon, who had already regained consciousness since Jamet pulled him from the lake, could only listen to the conversation in terror. His once brilliant mind couldn't understand the local language. Damn it! He couldn't use magic! If only he could use translation magic, he would know what they were talking about!
"This is going to be a long journey," Leon mumbled resignedly to himself. "I'll be like this for at least another year. Being a baby is truly troublesome. Hard to move, hard to eat, and difficult to excrete! After a year, my power will finally recover. For now, I can only give up." He feigned unconsciousness, waiting for his time.
Two days later, the smell of dust and the murmur of people filled the village air. Osman, a portly slave trader with cunning eyes and a detestable grin, arrived with a boisterous entourage, slave wagons trailing behind him.
"Hello, my beloved villagers!" Osman's voice boomed, exuding false cordiality. "Do you have anything to sell? I buy babies, children, and even young women! Adult men must possess strong muscles!"
A young boy quickly dragged his wrinkled grandfather forward. "Mister, I want to sell my grandpa! How much will he fetch?" The grandfather, likely senile, vigorously displayed his sagging muscles, posed like an athlete, and even performed sword techniques and danced, behaving as if he were still robust.
Osman looked on with amusement. "Sorry, kid. Your grandpa won't fetch a price. I can't buy him."
"Mister, I want to sell him..."
"Sorry, I don't buy wrinkles!" Osman stated ruthlessly and unequivocally.
At that moment, Eka proudly brought Leon forward, displaying him like a valuable commodity. "Mister! How about this child? He's very chubby and healthy!"
Osman's eyes gleamed as he looked at Leon. "Oh... this one's quite good! Here, five gold coins!" He swiftly handed the gold coins to Eka, took Leon, and passed him to a female servant for care.
"Thank you!" Eka cheered, greedily inhaling the gold coins as if drawing in good fortune.
The slave trader and his retinue continued their journey to neighboring villages to collect more human "merchandise." Leon, now a slave, could only bide his time, planning his revenge in his infant mind.
A year passed. Leon had finished his infancy and was now an active toddler, still trapped in a small body. After a long and arduous journey, the slave trader's group finally arrived at Starfall Kingdom's capital, Vegen. Vegen's slave market was the largest, and Osman immediately proudly displayed his merchandise.
"Come and see! If you're interested, take them home!" Osman peddled his "goods" amidst the bustling market's clamor.
All the slaves, including Leon, were placed in large iron cages, a pitiful spectacle for potential buyers. Leon, though still a toddler, could now move freely, keenly observing his surroundings, his brain analyzing every detail.
Some of the slaves in the cages began to charm potential buyers, trying to get themselves purchased. Some boasted their muscles, others danced gracefully, some enticed with sweet words, performed sad circuses, or flaunted alluring body shapes. They desperately sought attention, a glimmer of hope for a better life.
"Hmm... how much is this man?" asked a fat nobleman in expensive silk robes, pointing to a sturdy, muscular man.
"This muscular man is from the southern barbarian tribes, my lord. He is very strong. An affordable price, only 300 gold coins!" Osman replied with a wide smile, in a promotional tone.
"Alright, I'll take him," the nobleman said without hesitation.
"As you wish, my lord! I'll prepare the documents!"
After successful trade in Vegen, Osman's group continued their journey to Tintagel City, the hometown of Elio Pendragon.
However, while traversing a deep forest, they were ambushed. A band of bandits suddenly emerged from the shadows of the bushes. Swords drawn, faces covered with scarves, their eyes filled with malice.
"Osman! Today, I'll crush you!" the bandit leader roared, his voice hoarse and full of vengeance.
Osman drew his gleaming sword. "Who are you!? To dare obstruct the great Osman!" Osman's guards, muscular and armed, immediately went on high alert, forming a defensive formation.
The bandit leader sneered. "Have you forgotten me!? I am Rogue, your former slave! But enough, no more idle talk. Today, it's either your life or my freedom! Everyone, attack!"
The battle erupted! The clang of swords filled the air, mixed with shouts, roars, and screams. Osman's guards, though trained, were overwhelmed by the numerically superior bandits and their guerrilla tactics. Rogue, with a rusty but deadly sword in hand, moved as swift as a shadow, striking vital points with brutal precision. Even the usually arrogant Osman fought desperately, his sword clashing rapidly against Rogue's. Every swing was life or death. Flames from fallen torches illuminated the chaos of the battle among the towering trees. Blood began to flow onto the damp ground, and cries of pain from both sides amplified the horror of the scene. Though Osman resisted fiercely, he began to be cornered. Rogue was too fast, too ferocious, driven by years of burning vengeance.
After what seemed like an eternity, a tragic sight unfolded. Osman's guards lay helpless, their swords fallen from their hands. Osman himself, battered and gasping, was captured and bound by the bandits.
"Now," Rogue said, kicking Osman's helpless body, "I'll make you my slave! Taste the suffering!" He looked at the trembling slaves in the cages, their eyes filled with hope and terror. "All of you slaves here! I give you two choices. Join me, or leave this place and get lost in this forest!"
Most of the slaves cried out in unison, "We will follow you, my lord!" They knew that being alone in the night forest was a far more terrifying fate than becoming a bandit.
"Good! I accept all of you!" Rogue nodded in satisfaction, a triumphant grin on his face. "From children to elders, all of you will join us! From today, we are brothers!" He looked at Osman with a mocking grin. "Alright, everyone! Follow me to my hideout!" The newly recruited slaves, trembling yet relieved, stumbled after Rogue.
After all the slaves had left, the bandits began to plunder Osman's belongings and wagons.
"Boss!" one of the bandits shouted. "There's a toddler sleeping in the wagon!" He pointed to Leon, who was curled up in a corner.
Rogue glanced. "I can't take care of a child. Leave him in this forest."
"But Boss... I feel sorry for this child," the bandit said with a slight hesitation. There was a faint trace of kindness within him.
Rogue sighed, as if contemplating a new burden. "Ah... fine. Take this child to Tintagel City. Leave him near the gate."
"Yes, Boss! I'll borrow a horse!" The bandit quickly took the still-sleeping Leon towards Tintagel City. Since it was a dark and cold night, he left Leon under a large tree in the grassland near the city gate and departed. Leon was left alone in the darkness.
The next day, dawn broke, filling the grassland with golden light. Leon, waking under the large tree, was enveloped in an incredible sensation. His powers, once lost for thousands of years, now surged violently through his veins again, filling every fiber of his being! He was still in his infant form, but he could feel every muscle fiber in his body resonating with cosmic energy, almost bursting.
"Hahahaha! Finally! My abilities are back!" he roared with laughter. The Grand Master's laughter, trapped in a toddler's body, echoed across the quiet grassland. He bounced joyfully, looking at his small hands, feeling the power within them.
"Why am I here? I thought I was sleeping in a wagon yesterday... Oh well, never mind! The important thing is my abilities are back! Hahahaha!" Leon continued his triumphant laughter, unconcerned by the mystery of his arrival.
Suddenly, an irritated voice shattered his laughter. "Hey! Kid! Can't you be quiet!?"
Leon turned around. A few meters away, a boy about ten years old, dressed in training attire with a wooden sword, was intensely practicing his swings. It was Elio Pendragon, perfecting his skills at his secluded favorite spot.
"Uh... what did you say?" Leon, still in his toddler form, stammered to match his small mouth. "Y-you're the snot-nosed kid! If you're bothering me, go away!"
Elio looked at Leon with disdain. "You go away! This is my spot! I'm training!" He clearly scoffed, seeing Leon as nothing more than a toddler, not a threat.
Leon narrowed his eyes. He saw the wooden sword in Elio's hand and the glint of coins in Elio's slightly open pocket. Leon's cunning grin, the one he used to extort money from his college friends, now appeared on his infant face. An evil plan formed in his young mind.
"Are you learning to wield a sword?" Leon asked in an innocent but calculating voice. "Want to have a match?" He slowly approached Elio, his eyes full of challenge. "If I lose, I'll leave here. But if you lose, give me the money in your pocket. Deal?"
Elio scoffed. It was a sneering laugh. "Hahaha! This little runt challenging me? I honestly don't want to fight a child, but I guess I have no choice. Alright, I accept! I won't even use my hands!" Elio crossed his arms over his chest, completely underestimating Leon, confident in his undefeated reputation.
"Are you sure?" Leon approached slowly, his grin deepening. It was the grin of a predator. Without a signal, he suddenly unleashed a low kick towards Elio's leg. The kick was swift and precise, the result of thousands of years of training ingrained in his instincts. The arrogant Elio was completely unprepared and immediately stumbled, falling to the ground, surprised.
"You lost! Hand over the money!" Leon extended his small hand, his voice filled with triumph.
Elio stood up angrily, his face bright red. "Th-that doesn't count! I just wasn't ready! This time, I'll fight with one hand!"
But again, Leon easily defeated him. A small kick, an unexpected shove, or a cunning move that wore down his patience. Elio fell again, and again.
"Damn it! This time I'm serious!" Elio yelled. Cold sweat began to bead on his forehead, humiliation creeping in. He tried various techniques, swung his wooden sword more fiercely, but all his efforts were futile. The toddler Leon was always one step ahead, always finding an opening, defeating him with minimal yet devastating movements. It was like dancing on thorns.
Again, and again, Elio was defeated. His self-esteem as the "Future Sword Master" was shattered, feeling trampled upon by a toddler. Finally, with his face burning red from shame and anger, Elio cried out, "Damn it! I surrender! I'm going home!" He turned and fled at full speed, disappearing from the grassland, leaving behind only the traces of his defeat.
Leon couldn't help but let out a wicked laugh. It was a laugh incongruous with a toddler's body, a laugh of ironic victory. In his tiny hand, Elio's pouch of gold coins dangled. It was the fruit of his first duel in this new world. Even if the world changed, Leon's nature remained the same. He had returned to his old habits: extortion.