As time passed, we began preparing for the journey to the Forest of Sanni. My training became increasingly rigorous; currently, I am practicing on a balance beam while holding a heavy book. My mother and Olford stand nearby, ready to catch me if I fall, but with my recent "upgrade," maintaining my balance has become surprisingly easy.
While I trained, they discussed the finances for our trip. My mother, ever the pragmatic strategist, decided to convert our liquid assets into Royal Platinum Notes a move the steward agreed with. She was ruthless in her efficiency, ordering the sale of every non-essential luxury. Since we are to remain in the wild for forty years, it makes no sense to keep our belongings here. Finally, she arranged to rent the estate out in our absence.
She also commanded the Olford to reallocate the funds originally reserved for Sir Cane toward our travel expenses. He hesitated, pleading with her to reconsider. "My Lady, I know the ritual is fickle. It only ignites seventy percent of the time, and even when it does, only thirty percent of those results are the honest truth. But is a thirty percent chance of knowing the boy's future not worth the gold? Even a fragment of the truth is better than walking into the Sanni Forest blind". He spoke at length, detailing the advantages of early elemental alignment, but Mother remained immovable. Her decision was final; the gold would be spent on the caravan. Only I know the true reason.
All this talk of money brings back memories of managing my late father's failing business toward the end. It pained me deeply to finally grasp the true scale of his sacrifice—how much he suffered in silence, carrying the heavy weight of his responsibility toward us entirely on his own. Driven by that memory, I decided to insert myself into their decision-making and also to fulfill my commitment . I had to secure a seat at the High table.
But the task was not a easy one. In order to join the high table.I began throwing strategic tantrums—calculated outbursts that left my parents bewildered and worried. It was Olford, who eventually bridged the gap. Through his own lens of logic, he convinced them I was simply acting out due to the trauma of the ceremony; he believed I simply couldn't bear to be separated from them. His misinterpretation became my perfect camouflage.
Once I was in the room, however, their expertise was intimidating. They weren't just veterans; they were Frontier Architects. Mother, acting as the Chief Auditor, handled market analysis and capital raising. She even held a competition between three apprentice runic inscribers. She tasked them with drawing Weight-Reduction Arrays on our wagons and carts.
It gave me a chance to study the runes. To a casual observer, the three sets of runes looked identical. To my eyes, the winner's work possessed a two-percent deviation in geometric precision—yet that tiny margin resulted in a staggering ten-percent increase in efficiency. Mother rewarded the victor with ten extra gold coins, noting, 'Anyone can draw a rune, but it takes a lifetime of labor to truly understand them.'
I tried to sense the mana within the ink, but I felt nothing. Whether inside or outside my body, my mana remains a 'big zero. It seemed that I am still not ready for magic yet. According to the world's standards, I wouldn't typically awaken until age eight or twelve. But I am determined to unlock it before I turn eight.
I remain a silent observer of my father—the Master of Procurement and Drill. Supply procurement in the capital and surrounding regions was constant. He stockpiled high-calorie essentials like dried beast meat and grains, alongside salt for preservation. The alchemical inventory was just as vital, an array of potions for healing, pain relief, and even those designed to trigger explosions. To ensure the caravan's hardware held up, he made frequent rounds to the blacksmiths, placing bulk orders for fresh blades, reinforced shields, and fitted plate armor.
Mobile toolkits containing spare parts like extra wheels, leather for harness repair, and basic hand tools for minor fixes. He also ensured that other than alchemy, he has physical first aid kits with bandages, antiseptic creams, and specific medications for common travel ailments like fever or infection. Portable water-purifying tools to utilize natural sources found along the path. A wide arranges of magic items.
He was the purchaser and the quality inspector, his instincts ensuring that every spear-tip, axle, and grain-sack was of a quality that could withstand the "Hell" of Sanni.
He hand-picked a veteran unit of 30 soldiers and a seasoned squad of 40—these were his most trusted men. Alongside them were 20 long-range specialists and 50 experts from various other fields such as blacksmiths, medical staff, cooks and scouts/pathfinders, completing our technical division. In total, our caravan numbered 170 people.
When he wasn't overseeing logistics, he was at the manor's training courtyard, obsessively practicing squad formations and honing his individual combat skills and others.
The scale of our preparation was enough to leave my mouth agape. But I also made my preparations. My earlier powers that I used before my birthday improved as well with upgrade.
I decided to name them after the stories I had read back on Earth.
"My most vital development was the refinement of my nocturnal processing, an ability I titled OVERCLOCK .
This power is not a conscious toggle I can flip at will; it can only be initiated when my body enters the state of deep, unconscious sleep. By manually overriding the brain's natural metabolic limits during this rest period, I force my consciousness into a high-speed analytical loop
My "Native Hardware" naturally clears 75% of neural waste during standard sleep, but when I initiate Overclock, I push that efficiency to a staggering 85%. This allows me to aggregate a day's worth of sensory data—scents, heartbeats, and runic patterns—into a coherent strategic database.
However, the punishments are severe.
Speed (25–30 mins): Ideal for indexing language, math, and logistics and for high-stress combat simulations and Aura analysis.
The 20-hour cooldown is a rigid biological wall. If I dare to push past these limits, a System Crash ensues. My consciousness remains trapped in a helpless, vibrating body as a seizure takes hold. The aftermath is a grueling 24-hour migraine that plunges my clearing rate to a sluggish 65%, leaving my thoughts mired in a "neural fog" that renders me vulnerable when I need my wits most. Name of this ability is [ OVERCLOCK ].
Another drawback is it requires a massive caloric intake; if I lack sufficient energy reserves, the ability fails. If I attempt to activate it while depleted, my cells begin to break down, causing physical damage without providing the mental effect..
My other abilities are refined versions of my earlier powers:
Ocular Power [ FOCUS ]: I can now see with perfect clarity up to 15 metres. Then blurriness start.
Taste Power [ HYPERGEUSIA ]: I can differentiate chemical compounds with precision. If someone attempts to poison me, I will be able to distinguish the odd flavour immediately as I tried many things in secret.
Tactile Power [ SENSE ]: By increasing my skin's sensitivity to air pressure, I can feel "displacements" when someone enters a room or draws a weapon behind me, granting me 360-degree spatial awareness.
Hearing Power [ SONAR ]: This showed the most improvement after my upgrade. I can now "mute" background noise to isolate a specific conversation 20 metres away.
Olfactory Power [ ESSENCE ]: I have memorized the "Scent Profile" of every individual in our 170-person caravan
If I had a system it would have showed:
Name - Zaemon Hatar
Age - I year
Spirit - Dormant
Mana - None
Skill - Overclock, sense, Essence , Sonar, Analysis
---
Two days before the end of the Month of Ace, the King's official order for the Forest of Sanni arrived. We waited in the courtyard alongside thirty veteran units, all clad in their new armour and clutching fresh spears.
The King's Envoy arrived in a royal carriage, escorted by a hundred soldiers on horseback. They carried the banners of the Royal House: a Pentacle with a golden central pentagon, featuring a dark eagle with spread wings soaring toward the sky. The royal soldiers were equipped with gear far superior to our own.
A man stepped from the carriage and introduced himself as Fabio Ans. He produced a scroll and read the decree aloud:
ROYAL DECREE: THE MANDATE OF THE SOUTHWEST
By the Will of His Majesty, King Vitoris II, Sovereign of Enameia
and Protector of the People, do hereby proclaim this Royal Decree:
To: Baron Sama Hatar, 'Iron Grunt's Witness'
I. ELEVATION: For your defiance in the Shattered Mountain Range (North), the Crown grants House Hatar Blood Nobility in Perpetuity.
II. THE OATH: You are hereby bound to the Forty-Year Mana Oath.
III. DUTY : Effective 1st of Nas, you are deployed to the Southwestern Forest of Sanni.
The Mandate: According to law carve a fiefdom from the wilds.
The Clause: Due to instability in the North, no Royal reinforcements or supplies will be sent to the Southwest for five years. You are self-reliant.
IV. THE HEIR: Zaemon Hatar remains "Unbound." On his 35th birthday, he may claim 30% of conquered land in any province of his choosing.
V. FINAL WORD: The North remembers your blade and blood ; the Southwest requires your blood.
[SEALED: THE GOLDEN PENTAGON, PENTACLE ]
After the reading, a soldier presented an exotic longsword that pulsed with visible power—a Royal artifact with a Pentacle-shaped pommel.Fabio Ans performed the knightly investiture ceremony.
As the envoy finished, the hundred royal soldiers saluted and shouted in unison: "Glory to the Pentacle! Glory to Enameia!" The Envoy wished us luck and departed. My father turned to us, his face a mask of iron resolve.
"We leave on the first day of Nas," he commanded. "Go. Prepare for departure."
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