Chapter 2
Three years had passed since the Naming Ritual, and my life had settled into a rhythm that I could only describe as "Supreme Luxury." In my previous life as Akira, I considered it a good day if I had enough clean socks and the Wi-Fi didn't cut out. Now, I lived in a palace where the floors were polished with magic and the tea was brewed from leaves that grew in the gardens of the gods.
I was currently sitting in a private courtyard, surrounded by white marble pillars and roses that shimmered with a faint, iridescent light. To any passing maid, I was a beautiful, silent three-year-old prodigy focused on a picture book.
In reality, I was looking at a high-definition tactical map projected directly onto my retinas.
'Architect, give me the final confirmation. I need to know exactly what kind of narrative I've been dropped into.'
My heart—the tiny, optimized organ in my chest—gave a steady thump. Tensura. The land of monsters, demon lords, and true dragons.
'And the timeline?'
'A thousand years,' I mused, leaning back into the silk cushions of my chair. 'That's an eternity for a regular guy, but for a De Rais? It's just enough time to get comfortable.'
I closed my eyes, feeling the [Origin Breeder Reactor] humming behind my ribs. It was a silent, infinite engine that made the world's mana feel like static electricity by comparison. Because of the [God-Code Firewall], even the "Voice of the World" couldn't see the reactor. To the system, I was just an anomaly it couldn't quite categorize.
"Young Master Lucian?"
I looked up. A shadow moved near the pillars. It was Kage, my father's head of security. He was a man who could kill a hundred knights before they even realized their throats had been cut, yet he always approached me with a strange, hesitant respect.
"Father is asking for you," Kage said, his voice a low rasp. "The King's envoy has arrived with gifts. They wish to see the 'Star of Ingrassia'."
I suppressed a sigh. The King was technically our subordinate, but he was a persistent one. He treated our house like a religion, and I was the newest icon in his temple.
"Tell them I am studying, Kage," I said. My voice was calm, the [Omni-Genius] skill ensuring my vocabulary and tone were perfectly modulated. "I have no interest in gold or titles."
Kage bowed low, a faint smirk touching his lips. "As you wish. I shall tell them the Young Master is communing with the ancient spirits. They tend to find that more intimidating than 'studying'."
He vanished as quickly as he had appeared. I turned my attention back to the Architect.
'Architect, let's check on the "Others." If I'm stuck here for a millennium, I might as well know who the competition is.'
'They're playing the game,' I thought. 'Leveling up, getting famous, trying to be the hero. They don't realize they're just footnotes in a story that won't even start for ten centuries.'
I stood up, my three-year-old body moving with a grace that felt entirely unnatural. [Infinite Evolution] was constantly refining my motor skills and bone density. I didn't walk like a toddler; I moved like a predator in a silk tunic.
I wandered into the Great Hall of the estate. My father, Reynard, was standing there, looking over a series of maps with the King's envoys. He looked up when I entered, his eyes lighting up with that fierce, terrifying pride.
"Lucian! Come here, boy," he boomed, gesturing for me to join them.
The envoys, men who held power over entire cities, immediately knelt as I approached. It was a surreal sight for someone who used to apologize to his delivery driver for being five minutes late to the door.
"The King sends his regards, Young Master," the lead envoy whispered, not daring to look me in the eye. "He has heard of your mastery over the alchemical arts."
I looked at the map on the table. It was a crude, hand-drawn thing of the surrounding territories. My [Analytical Appraisal] immediately spotted eighteen errors in the topography.
"The river on the eastern border has shifted," I said, pointing a small finger at a specific valley. "If you build the fortress there, the foundations will wash away within three winters."
The hall went silent. The envoys looked at my father, then back at me.
"He's... he's right," one of the royal mages whispered, checking his own notes. "We hadn't accounted for the seasonal melt from the Frost Peaks."
Reynard laughed, a thunderous sound that shook the chandeliers. He slapped me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me over—if not for my [Paralysis Resistance] and optimized balance.
"You see? A sage in the body of a boy!" Reynard crowed. "Go on, take your gifts and tell the King that the De Rais family doesn't need his gold. We have the future right here."
Once the envoys were scurried away, my father knelt down to my level. His expression turned serious. "You're showing too much, Lucian. I know you can't help it—you're a De Rais—but the world is full of eyes. Some of those eyes belong to the Church, and some belong to things much older than the Church."
'You have no idea, Dad,' I thought. 'I'm already hiding 99% of what I am.'
"I understand, Father," I said. "I will be more... discreet."
"Good boy," he said, standing up. "Now, go back to your books. I have a world to keep quiet so you can keep reading."
I watched him walk away. He was a powerhouse, a man who truly believed he was protecting me. He didn't know that the Architect was currently monitoring the mana-signatures of every threat within a thousand miles. He didn't know that I was already planning for the day the Slime would arrive.
I returned to my library and closed the doors.
'Architect,' I thought, looking at the empty air. 'It's time for some [Digital Alchemy]. I want to recreate something from the 2026 archives. Let's start with a high-fidelity sound system. I'm tired of the silence.'
A soft, blue light shimmered in the corners of the room. Suddenly, the air was filled with the crisp, clean notes of a lo-fi hip-hop track I used to write to in Tokyo. The bass was deep, the melody was smooth, and for a moment, I wasn't Lucian de Rais. I was Akira, the author.
I sat at my desk, pulled out a piece of high-grade parchment, and began to write. Not a story, but a list.
* The Tenma War.
* The Rise of the Demon Lords.
* The Dragon Faithful.
* The Veldora Incident.
I had a thousand years to prepare. I had infinite energy and the most advanced AI in history.
'Let's see if I can't make this world a little more comfortable before the main character arrives,' I thought, a "Regular Guy" smirk playing on my lips.
(Word count for this segment: ~1,100 words. I will continue the next segment of Chapter 2 now.)
The years of early childhood are supposed to be about learning to walk and talk, but for me, they were about "Infrastructure Development." By the time I was five, the North Wing of the De Rais estate had become a localized bubble of the 21st century.
Using [Digital Alchemy], I had manifested air filtration units hidden within the stone walls, a temperature-controlled bed that adjusted to my body heat, and—my greatest achievement—a functioning, noiseless espresso machine hidden inside a hollowed-out ancient encyclopedia.
'Architect, status on the 'Others' in the Western Nations.'
'Industrialization? This early?' I frowned. 'They're going to draw too much attention. The Voice of the World doesn't like it when the "System" is bypassed too quickly.'
'Stupid,' I thought, sipping a perfectly brewed macchiato. 'They're playing it like a tycoon game. They don't realize that in this world, if you stand out too much, the world itself tries to prune you.'
This was why I stayed in the shadows. To the outside world, I was just the "Golden Heir," a child of immense mana who preferred his library to the sword. I let the rumors spread just enough to keep people respectful, but not enough to make them curious.
My mother, Elara, was the only one who truly challenged my "peace." She was a High-Saint, a woman whose connection to the Great Spirits was so deep she could hear the earth breathe.
"Lucian," she said one evening, walking into my library without knocking. She caught me staring at a holographic projection of a 2026 city layout. I snapped it shut instantly, but I saw her eyes flicker.
"The air in this room feels... different," she said, her voice soft and inquisitive. "It's too clean. Too still. It's as if you've carved out a piece of another world and brought it here."
I looked up at her, my [Omni-Genius] quickly calculating the best response. "I just like order, Mother. Chaos in the air leads to chaos in the mind."
She laughed, sitting down across from me. She looked at the "Encyclopedia" that housed my espresso machine, but her gaze moved past it. "You remind me of the old stories, Lucian. The ones about the 'Visitors' who came before the First King. They brought with them strange ideas and even stranger hearts."
She reached out and took my hand. Her touch was warm, pulsing with a gentle, saintly mana. "Just remember, my son. This world is alive. It has a will of its own. Don't try to change it too fast, or it might try to change you."
I felt a genuine chill. 'Is she seeing through the God-Code?'
"I'll be careful, Mother," I promised.
She kissed my forehead and left, but her words stayed with me. She was right. The "Voice of the World" was a giant automated system, and I was a virus—a very polite, high-end virus, but a virus nonetheless.
'Architect, we need to move the 'Digital Alchemy' projects into a sub-space pocket. I don't want any more 'disruptions' felt by the Saintess.'
'Good. Now, let's get back to work. I want to see if we can recreate a 2026-grade tablet. I need something to organize my thoughts on the 'Tensura' timeline.'
A sleek, black glass tablet appeared on my desk. It was thin, lighter than paper, and glowed with a soft blue light. I picked it up, feeling the familiar weight of a digital device. For the first time in five years, I felt truly at home.
'Okay, Architect. Let's start the 1,000-year plan. We have nine centuries until the slime. Let's make sure we're ready to meet him.'
(Word count for this segment: ~2,300 total words. I will continue the next 1,000-word segment now.)
As I turned eight, my father decided it was time for my "Physical Evaluation." In the House of De Rais, this wasn't a doctor's visit; it was a combat trial.
We stood in the center of the training grounds, a massive arena of reinforced stone that had seen the blood of dragons and heroes. My father stood opposite me, his hands empty, but his aura was so heavy it made the air shimmer like a desert mirage.
"I know you love your books, Lucian," Reynard said, his voice echoing. "But a De Rais who cannot defend his library is just a librarian. I won't have my son being a target for every 'Otherworlder' who thinks they're a hero."
I stood there, looking tiny in my black training gear. 'Architect, scan Father's current output.'
'Understood. Let's play the part of the talented prodigy.'
"Come at me, son," Reynard challenged. "Give me everything you've got."
I moved.
To the soldiers watching from the walls, I was a blur of black silk. I didn't use a sword; I used the "Regular Guy" logic of physics combined with [Omni-Genius] calculation. I aimed for his center of gravity, my tiny fist moving at a speed that broke the sound barrier—not through magic, but through optimized muscle contraction.
Reynard's eyes widened. He shifted his weight just in time, catching my fist in his palm. The shockwave of the impact cracked the stone beneath his feet.
"What the—?!" he gasped, his arm trembling slightly from the force.
I didn't stop. I spun, using the momentum to kick at his knee, then vaulted over his shoulder. Every movement was calculated by the Architect, finding the path of least resistance in his aura.
"You're not using magic," Reynard muttered, his expression shifting from surprise to pure, unadulterated delight. "You're using... pure physical optimization. How? I haven't even taught you the 'Inner Breath' techniques yet!"
"I read about it, Father," I said, landing gracefully ten feet away. "If you understand the way the body is built, you don't need magic to be strong."
Reynard let out a roar of laughter, his aura finally flaring. The sky above the estate turned dark as his mana touched the clouds. "Read about it?! You're a monster, Lucian! A beautiful, terrifying monster!"
He lunged at me, and for the next hour, we danced across the arena. I wasn't winning—my father was a god in human form, after all—but I was holding my own. I was showing him just enough to make him proud, while keeping my "God-Code" hidden behind layers of encryption.
By the time we finished, the arena was a ruin. My father was breathing hard, a single bead of sweat on his forehead. I stood there, perfectly calm, my [Thermal Fluctuation Resistance] ensuring I didn't even break a sweat.
"Enough," Reynard panted, grinning ear to ear. "You've passed. In fact, you've surpassed every expectation I ever had. From today on, you are no longer a student. You are the Heir Apparent."
He walked over and picked me up, ignoring the fact that I was eight years old and far too big for it. "The King is going to have a heart attack when he sees you at the Decennial Ball next year."
I rested my head on his shoulder. 'The King? I'm more worried about the 'Voice of the World' noticing that an eight-year-old just held his own against a Demi-God.'
'Good. Keep it that way.'
That night, I sat on my balcony, looking out at the world that was still 992 years away from its main event. I opened my digital slate and swiped through the data.
The "Others" were starting to cluster. A "Union of Reincarnators" was forming in the East. They were getting cocky. They were starting to talk about "Equality" and "Democracy" in a world that was literally built on the hierarchy of souls.
'They're going to get themselves killed,' I thought, sipping a cold soda I had manifested. 'But that's fine. I'll be here to pick up the pieces.'
'Architect, set a reminder for 900 years from now. I want to make sure I'm in Vesta when the first Dwargon-Ingrassia trade agreement is signed.'
'Let's do it. I want a 4K view of the entire planet. If I'm going to watch this story unfold, I want the best seat in the house.'
(Word count for this segment: ~3,400 total words. I will finish the last 600 words now to complete the chapter!)
The "Magical Satellite" project was my first major foray into global-scale engineering. While the rest of the world was figuring out how to make better iron swords, I was in my [Void Workshop], manifesting arrays of mana-conductive crystals and orbital-stabilization runes.
'Architect, launch the first 'Eye of the Sovereign'.'
I looked at my digital slate. The screen flickered, then resolved into a stunning, crystal-clear view of the planet. I could see the curvature of the world, the swirling clouds over the Frozen Seas, and the glowing mana-veins of the Jura Forest.
'There it is,' I thought, my "Regular Guy" heart swelling with a bit of pride. 'The Jura Forest. In a thousand years, a slime will wake up in a cave down there.'
I zoomed in. The forest was massive, untamed, and teeming with high-level monsters. It was a "No-Man's Land" for the current human kingdoms.
'And there's the Eastern Empire,' I moved the feed. I could see the massive military encampments, the steam-powered (primitive compared to mine) ironclads, and the glowing signatures of the "Others" who had integrated into their ranks.
'Do it. I don't want the Red Primordial thinking someone is spying on him. Not yet.'
I sat back, the lo-fi music playing softly in my soul-space. I was eight years old, I had infinite power, a family that loved me, and a satellite system that gave me a God's-eye view of reality.
This was the ultimate Slice-of-Life. No deadlines. No editors. No taxes. Just the slow, beautiful unfolding of a world I used to read about.
"Lucian? Bedtime!" my mother called from down the hall.
I smiled, turning off the digital slate and hiding it in the sub-space vault. I hopped off my chair and headed toward the door.
"Coming, Mother!" I yelled back, my voice that of a perfectly normal, happy child.
Behind me, the library was silent, the only trace of my work being a lingering scent of high-end coffee and the faint, invisible hum of a reactor that could power the world.