Chapter 4: Walking
My legs strained under the immense pressure, but I finally stood upright without any support. With a deep breath, I took a step forward, then another, slowly moving ahead. Each step felt like a monumental achievement, my small legs wobbling but determined.
A feeling of elation filled me.
I could walk! At just nine months old, I could finally walk! The room around me seemed to expand as I moved, no longer confined to my crib or the arms of my parents. This newfound freedom was exhilarating, a significant milestone in my young life.
I looked around, taking in the room from this new perspective. My mother noticed and gasped, her eyes wide with surprise and joy. "Lancelot! You're walking!"
Elara and Lucas, who had been playing nearby, turned their heads in unison. They cheered and clapped, their excitement infectious. My father, hearing the commotion, rushed in, his face lighting up with pride.
'Doesn't he have to work?' I wondered as he came closer to me.
"Lancelot, you're amazing!" he exclaimed, scooping me up into his arms.
Ah yes, my name was Lancelot now. Like in the Arthurian legend, one of King Arthur's most trusted knights. Quite a heavy name was placed upon me, but in this world, there may not be anything like Arthurian legends.
In my nine months of existence, I had gathered that my father was a merchant who had just become a noble due to significant contributions to the empire we were part of—the Killion Empire. The Killion Empire was one of four empires in the world and was considered the weakest since it was also the youngest.
There was a lot of worry among the maids about an invasion by marauders who stayed outside the empire. But luckily, since my father wasn't a warrior noble, we lived near the imperial capital and didn't have to deal with them like the outer nobles had to.
"Mama!" I said, pointing to my mother, causing a deep smile to spread across her face as her lips curled up.
She picked me up from my father, nestling me in her arms. "Lancelot, your brother and sister are about to turn four years old soon!"
I understood what she meant, but since I was still young, I simply tilted my head, acting like a clueless baby, and grunted.
My mother chuckled at my reaction, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Oh, you little one," she said softly, brushing her fingers through my fine blonde hair. "You'll understand more as you grow older."
She carried me to a window, and I peered outside, my curiosity piqued. The view was of our estate's lush gardens, where colorful flowers bloomed and birds flitted about. It was a peaceful scene, far removed from the worries of the world beyond our walls.
"Four years old is considered a big milestone because that is the age you can finally use magic," my mother said, her voice full of excitement.
Magic. So it did exist in this world after all.
I wasn't sure how different the magic would be compared to Earth's. Earth was more advanced in terms of technology, but we only had mana for a mere twenty years. In terms of progress in understanding mana, this world could be ahead of Earth.
I was one of the first Awakeners and Climbers back on Earth, which is why I managed to become the only person to reach SSS-class and slay powerful Disaster-class aliens single-handedly. Also because I was talented.
How talented would I be in this world?
What should I aim for in this new life? I didn't know why I was given another chance, but I didn't want to waste it. I needed to protect everyone I loved. And for that, I needed power.
From what I knew about medieval times, the life of nobles could be dangerous and cutthroat. Not only that, there were the marauders threatening the empire. What if they managed to defeat the armies at the border and reach inside?
Very slim chance, but I couldn't bet on it.
The only thing I could bet on was my own strength, which is something I had to develop once again.
'So I have to become strong again,' I thought, mentally sighing while resting in my mother's arms.
Being strong was annoying. For now, all I could do was wait to grow up.
Soon, it was time for my twin siblings' fourth birthday. As one would expect from a noble event, it was a grand affair with numerous guests, mostly barons and viscounts, invited to celebrate.
The mansion was abuzz with activity. Maids and servants scurried about, decorating the halls with vibrant banners and arranging extravagant floral displays. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and rich, savory dishes filled the air, making my mouth water despite my limited diet.
In the grand ballroom, tables were laden with sumptuous feasts, and a large cake, adorned with intricate designs, stood as the centerpiece. Musicians tuned their instruments in a corner, ready to serenade the guests with melodies that would set the tone for the evening.
Elara and Lucas were dressed in matching outfits, their excitement palpable as they ran around, greeting guests and receiving gifts. Elara's blonde curls bounced with every step, and Lucas's red eyes sparkled with joy. They looked like miniature versions of our parents, radiating a charm that endeared them to everyone present.
I watched the festivities from the safety of my mother's arms, taking in the opulence and grandeur of the celebration. It was a stark contrast to the simpler, more utilitarian gatherings on Earth. Here, everything was about displaying wealth and status, a constant reminder of the societal hierarchy.
As the guests mingled and exchanged pleasantries, I observed them closely. The men wore elaborate suits adorned with family crests, while the women donned flowing gowns that glittered with jewels. Conversations ranged from political alliances to business ventures, each word carefully chosen to maintain the delicate balance of power.
My father moved through the crowd with ease, his charismatic presence drawing people to him. He greeted each guest warmly, his eyes constantly scanning the room to ensure everything was perfect. Despite his relatively new status as a noble, he commanded respect and admiration.
"Look at Lancelot," my mother cooed to a group of ladies gathered around us. "Isn't he just the sweetest?"
The women fawned over me, their compliments blending into a chorus of admiration. I smiled and gurgled, playing the part of the adorable baby, all the while analyzing the dynamics at play.
Suddenly, a hush fell over the room as the doors opened, and a tall figure strode in. He was dressed in a deep crimson cloak, his presence imposing. The crowd parted to make way for him, whispering in hushed tones.
"Who is that?" I heard someone ask.
"That's Count Arlen," another replied. "He's one of the most influential nobles in the region."
Count Arlen made his way to my parents, his gaze sharp and assessing. My father greeted him with a respectful bow, and my mother curtsied gracefully. I could see the tension in their eyes, a reminder that even during celebrations, politics were never far away.
"I would like you to meet my daughter, Lyra," Count Arlen said with a smile, gesturing behind him to his wife, who held a young girl around my age.
Lyra had delicate features, with wisps of auburn hair and bright, curious eyes. She wore a tiny dress of deep green silk, adorned with intricate gold embroidery that made her look even more like a little doll. Despite her young age, she seemed remarkably alert and aware of her surroundings.
My mother's eyes softened as she looked at Lyra. "What a lovely child," she remarked warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lyra."
Lyra responded with a babble and a smile, reaching out a chubby hand toward me. I felt a strange sense of camaraderie, recognising in her a fellow infant navigating this complex world.
As the adults engaged in conversation, discussing alliances and mutual interests, I observed Lyra closely. Despite her age, there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes as she looked around, taking in the grandeur of the celebration.
My father maintained his respectful demeanour, his eyes never leaving Count Arlen. "It's an honour to have you and your family here, Count," he said, his tone measured.
"The honour is ours," Count Arlen replied, his smile never wavering. "I've heard much about your recent ventures, and I must say, they are quite impressive."
My father nodded graciously. "We strive to contribute to the empire's prosperity."
As they continued their diplomatic exchange, I could sense the underlying tension. These interactions were more than mere pleasantries; they were the subtle dance of power and influence that defined noble society.
Soon enough, Count Arlen moved on to greet other guests. I exchanged one last look with Lyra, who quickly turned away, likely a consequence of the short attention span associated with being an infant.
"Mama," I said, tugging on her dress to get her attention, "Pick."
Although I could walk now, it was still a strain on my legs, and I quickly grew tired. I relied on my mother to carry me when I needed rest.
She smiled warmly, kneeling down to scoop me up. As I nestled into her embrace, the soothing rhythm of her heartbeat lulled me toward sleep. The sounds of the grand celebration faded into the background, replaced by the comforting presence of my mother.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone