Nights in the Graymore territory always brought a haunting stillness, especially when the first thin veil of snow began to shroud the majestic stone towers of the castle. Inside the vast nursery, the light from the mana crystal orbs embedded in the walls began to dim, casting a cold sapphire hue across the room. The silence was only broken by the occasional groan of ancient wooden furniture and the whistle of the wind through the cracks of the high, tightly sealed windows.
In the midst of this silence, inside a crib crafted from intricately carved white teak, a small inhabitant was far from sleep.
Razzaq Graymore—or Ki Bungkuk Jagad within his soul—was struggling to sit upright. His infant spine, still soft and undeveloped, was forced to straighten, while his plump little legs were crossed in a perfect lotus position. If any adult had seen him now, they would have rubbed their eyes repeatedly, convinced they were hallucinating a toddler meditating like a holy ascetic.
Razzaq closed his silver-gray eyes. In the darkness of his inner mind, he no longer saw the physical world. Instead, he saw millions of light particles floating in the air like dust caught in a sunbeam. The people of this world called it Mana—the fundamental fuel used by knights to temper their bodies and by mages to manifest natural phenomena.
Crude... far too crude, Razzaq thought, meticulously analyzing the particles.
To a Great Shaman of the Nusantara, energy was breath. In his previous life, he was accustomed to Prana or Internal Breath, which flowed as softly as silk, harmonizing with nature. However, the Mana of the Asyama continent felt drastically different. These particles were like shards of hot, sharp metal. They were aggressive. They didn't want to flow; they wanted to explode.
This was the reason why the mages here required complex incantations to tame mana, and why knights had to possess extraordinary physical frames just to contain this energy within their muscles.
If I attempt to absorb this Mana directly with my current energy circuits, I will do nothing but shatter my own internal organs, he calculated coldly.
Razzaq began to execute his grand design. He didn't absorb Mana from the outside; instead, he utilized a micro-version of the Tapa Pendem technique.
He locked his physical breath to its absolute minimum, slowing his infant heartbeat until it was almost imperceptible. He concentrated all the life energy already present within his own cells, forcing it to swirl at the base of his spine.
Srekk... Heat...
A sharp, searing pain began to creep along his bone marrow. For a normal baby, this level of agony would trigger hysterical crying capable of waking the entire castle. But Razzaq was Ki Bungkuk Jagad. His soul had been forged by a thousand years of spiritual suffering. He locked his tiny jaw, suppressing a groan that nearly escaped. He forced his internal energy to penetrate the pores of his bones, reinforcing their density and constructing wider neural pathways before any external Mana could enter.
Every second felt like an hour. Cold sweat began to drench his small forehead. His pale skin gradually flushed crimson as his body temperature rose drastically. He was forging his physical "bottle" so that one day it could hold an ocean of power without shattering.
Suddenly, Razzaq's spiritual vision caught a disturbance.
Several small orbs of light, much smaller than ordinary mana particles, began to approach his window from the outside. These were Wisps—small, native spirits of Asyama attracted to the unnatural density of Razzaq's soul. They tried to penetrate the glass, eager to taste the pure energy radiating from the infant.
Noisy. Begone, you astral vermin! Razzaq unleashed a spiritual bark.
He used no mantra. He merely released a sliver of the killing intent lingering from his memories of the Lawu battlefields. Instantly, an incredibly thick, cold aura exploded spiritually within the room. The small spirits trembled violently, as if they had just witnessed a primordial predator awakening from its slumber.
In a flash, they scattered back into the darkness of the forest, not daring to look back. No spirit, whether benevolent or malicious, was permitted to negotiate with or interrupt his meditation. To him, the spirits of this world were nothing more than untamed pests.
However, that explosion of intent triggered something unexpected.
Outside the nursery, a woman walking down the corridor suddenly stopped. Countess Nayla Graymore, who had just finished studying several magic scrolls in the library, felt a bizarre mana fluctuation coming from her son's room. As a Level 6 Mage (Arcane Blaster), her sensitivity to energy was exceptionally high.
"This fluctuation... what is this?" Nayla murmured, her beautiful face turning pale. "Why does it feel so cold and heavy? Razzaq!"
Nayla broke into a run and threw the door open with a flick of light magic. She gasped at the sight of her son. Razzaq wasn't lying down. The infant was sitting in a position entirely unnatural for a child his age, his eyes closed, and his body emitting visible steam into the cold air.
"Heavens... what is happening?!" Nayla approached in a panic.
Her mind immediately raced to horror stories of infants possessed by malicious spirits or demons from the North. In the world of Asyama, the phenomenon of a "Hollow Born"—a child born without a soul whose shell was then filled by another entity—was not unheard of.
Nayla immediately began to chant. "Soothing Mana: Azure Wave!"
Soft blue light radiated from Nayla's palms, attempting to enter Razzaq's body to calm his energy flow. To a Western mage, this was first aid for mana instability. But to Razzaq, it was a catastrophe. The Western Mana forced in by his mother was in direct conflict with the internal energy paths he was precisely constructing.
DAMN IT! Mother, stop! You'll explode my heart! Razzaq's mind screamed.
A violent clash occurred within Razzaq's chest. His internal energy fiercely rejected Nayla's blue mana. The room suddenly vibrated. The water glass on the bedside table cracked, and the mana lamps on the wall flickered wildly. Nayla was thrown back a step by the powerful energy recoil.
At that critical moment, the door burst open again. Count Ragil Graymore entered with heavy strides that made the floorboards groan. As a Level 7 Knight (Flow Master), his presence brought tangible physical pressure. His knightly aura—steeped in combat intent—filled the room like a sudden increase in gravity.
Razzaq felt the pressure. For a normal baby, the presence of a Level 7 Knight in a high-alert state like this could cause them to faint or suffer mental trauma. But Razzaq only felt wary. Challenged. Within his soul, he compared Ragil's aura to one of the traitorous kings from the Nusantara.
Weak... Razzaq thought for a fleeting moment. My father is indeed strong by the standards of the humans here, but he doesn't even equal one of those who ambushed me at Lawu. However, for my current physical form... he is too heavy.
"Nayla! What are you doing?!" Ragil's voice boomed, his eyes fixed on Razzaq, who looked like a glowing red statue.
"I don't know, Ragil! I felt something wrong with his body! It's as if he's fighting his own energy!" Nayla cried, her hands trembling.
Razzaq realized he had to act before his father conducted a deeper examination that could expose the secrets of his soul. He had to perform the most humiliating act once more. He forcefully terminated his entire energy circulation—an action that made him feel intensely nauseous.
"Waaaa! Waaaaaaa! Ma-ma... Waaaaaa!"
Razzaq intentionally collapsed onto his side, rolling over his silk blankets, and began to cry with the terrified wail of a genuine infant. He reached out into the air with his pudgy hands, looking at Nayla with teary eyes as if he had just woken from a horrific nightmare. He even intentionally let out some drool and snot to complete the act of a mindless babe.
Nayla immediately snatched Razzaq into her arms, hugging him tightly. "Oh, thank goodness! He's back! He's crying! Ragil, he's okay!"
Count Ragil approached, placing his large hand on Razzaq's head. He used his Flow Master ability to scan the energy flow in his son's body. Razzaq quickly locked all his internal energy into a deep point beneath his navel, disguising it as the mana void typical of unawakened children.
"Hmm..." Ragil hummed thoughtfully. "The flow is chaotic, but it seems to be just a natural mana overflow triggered by the cold. He isn't possessed, Nayla. He's just... far too active for an infant his age."
Ragil locked eyes with Razzaq. For a moment, there was eye contact between the Flow Master and the Legend. Ragil felt something "solid" within those silver-gray eyes, but he quickly dismissed it. How could a child only a few months old have such a gaze? I must simply be exhausted from the patrol.
"Master! My Lady! What's wrong?!"
Clara burst in, breathless, carrying a warm bottle of milk and a fresh towel. She saw the tense atmosphere and immediately felt guilty. "Forgive me! I only went to the kitchen for a moment to prepare the warm milk! Is Young Master Razzaq ill?"
"He is fine, Clara," Nayla said, wiping her tears. "Just... watch him more closely. He often does strange things when we aren't looking."
Clara approached Razzaq, taking him gently from Nayla's arms. "Oh, poor Young Master... you gave everyone a fright. You just wanted to learn how to sit up, didn't you? You want to be a great knight like the Count, right?"
Razzaq could only give a small whimper in Clara's embrace. Thank you for the defense, Clara, even though you have no idea what actually happened.
After his parents left with faces still etched with anxiety, silence reclaimed the room. Clara busied herself rocking Razzaq until he finally fell asleep. But the moment Clara drifted off on the sofa beside his crib, Razzaq's silver-gray eyes snapped open in the darkness.
He felt his body. Despite nearly being harmed by his mother's intervention, tonight's training wasn't in vain. He could feel his energy circuits in the heart and spine were now significantly more robust. He had successfully touched the foundation. In the world of knights, this was the beginning of what was called an Awakened Spark (Level 1), though technically he hadn't awakened Western mana at all.
The foundation of the bottle has begun to take shape, Razzaq stared at the ceiling with a hidden, cynical smile.
He realized that the path to becoming a high-level knight or a grand mage in this world would be incredibly boring if he followed their ways. He would create his own path—one that merged the raw volatility of Asyama's Mana with the precision of the Nusantara's Internal Breath.
I will let you consider me manaless or a strange baby for now, he thought as he closed his eyes for a lighter meditation. But when this bottle is strong enough to contain my entire soul... I will show this world the true meaning of a Great Shaman.
That night, Razzaq no longer dreamed of Lawu. He began to dream of how he would shatter the standards of power on the Asyama continent, one meditative step at a time, under the watchful eye of his loyal, oblivious maid.