Nathan – POV

  The following morning, I woke up giddy, eager to explore the new “search engine” that had appeared on my status screen. The thought of having Earth’s knowledge at my fingertips made my mind race with possibilities. But before I could even begin experimenting, my mother scooped me up and carried me toward our small, cramped bathroom.

  I wanted to protest, but what could I do? I was still a baby. Better to go with the flow.

  So, I let myself be bathed.

  This wasn’t the first time, of course, but it was the first time my mother was also naked. That embarrassed me more than I cared to admit. Not because I was shy, far from it, but because I didn’t want to see my mother naked. It felt wrong.

  And yet… curiosity is a powerful thing. My eyes wandered.

  She was, objectively speaking, beautiful. Even after bearing three children, she still had the body of a young woman. Her skin was smooth, her figure toned. She was the kind of woman who would have turned heads back on Earth. I was just glad I didn’t have any impure thoughts. Instead, I found myself admiring her the way one might admire a statue in a museum; artistic, dignified, untouchable.

  It reminded me of the times my girlfriend had dragged me to art galleries back on Earth. I’d never cared much for paintings of fruit bowls, but the sculptures of the human form had always struck me. This was like that.

  Come to think of it, most people in this world were fit and good-looking. Even the old folks I’d seen in town had a certain vitality to them. It was as if some manga artist had designed the population and decided not to bother drawing anyone ugly.

  Well, almost everyone. There were exceptions. Like that mean-looking bald guy who was constantly harassing my mother.

  “Little Nathan? What are you looking at?” she smirked, hands on her hips, standing in all her naked glory while I sat in the small tub of hot water.

  “Admiring your mother, are we?” she teased.

  Aw, hell. I’d been caught staring. Look away? No, that would be creepier. Pretend nothing happened? Too late. In the end, I just giggled and made the grabby-grabby motion with my hands.

  “Oh, hungry then? Let’s rinse up and get out of here. I’ll feed you after I dry you off.”

  And just like that, the moment passed. She toweled me down, wrapped me snugly, and pressed my head to her bosom.

  God, this was even more embarrassing. But I went with the flow and suckled. As usual, the milk was delicious. It was just the awareness of it all that made me squirm inside.

  While I drank, I listened.

  “Jack, you’ll be ten in four years,” my father Jakob said. “Have you thought of what you want to be?”

  “I thought of being a hunter like you, Father,” Jack replied.

  Father chuckled. “That’s just a job, son. Not a class. Take me, for example. My class is Hunter, which means I’m proficient in traps and the bow. Because of that, I could’ve joined the army as an archer or become an adventurer. A class opens doors, but the profession you choose is up to you.”

  Ah. So that was the distinction. A class wasn’t the same as a job. Unlike the manga I’d read, where the two were interchangeable, here they were separate.

  “Why didn’t you become an adventurer, Father?” Serena asked.

  “Well, we were both adventurers, your mother and I,” he said with a smile. “That’s how I met her. She’s a healer, by the way. But we stopped when she became pregnant with you, Jack. Adventuring is dangerous—especially the dungeons.”

  “Yes, very dangerous,” Mother added. “That’s why we quit. We’re from the west, from a land called Shaxaian. This isn’t our original home. We fled because of war.”

  “Will we go back someday, Mama?” Serena asked.

  “We hope so,” Mother said softly. “But not now. That land is still at war.”

  “Jack,” Father continued, “you need to think about what class you want. Even though the system randomly assigns classes, we believe it considers the child’s preferences.”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Really? Then I want to be a knight!” Jack said, eyes shining.

  “I want to be a mage!” Serena piped up.

  “That would be wonderful, sweetie,” Mother said warmly.

  I frowned inwardly. Why would a Hunter and a Healer choose to live as peasants when they could have used their skills for a better life? Were they fugitives? Or was the situation in their homeland truly that dire?

  I understood why they no longer delved into dungeons. The mortality rate must be brutal. Still, their revelation raised more questions than it answered.

  At least my intelligence was high enough now that I could read and theoretically write, just by observing my mother teach my siblings. That meant I could finally understand the conversations around me.

  Like the other day, when I overheard one of the tavern waitresses gossiping that Nina, the tavern owner, was having an affair with a married town guard.

  Some things never change, no matter the world.

  “Don’t fret too much about your awakening ceremony, Jack,” Mother said. “That’s four years away. Just focus on what you want. Remember, some classes sound like jobs but are actually classes; like Blacksmith or Farmer. Those people can be very successful. Take Mr. John, who owns the smithy. Lords, soldiers, adventurers; they all come to him.”

  “Your mother is right,” Father said. “Whatever class you end up with, you’ll find a job to match. Now, we’re off hunting. We’ll see you tonight.”

  Discouraging words. Father was living proof that a class didn’t guarantee success. He was a Hunter, yet most of his hunts were failures. Mother was a Healer, yet she toiled as a cook in a tavern. Her potential was wasted.

  No, something was wrong here. My siblings might not see it, but I did. There was more to this story. I would get to the bottom of it.

  After my meal, I felt dizzy and yawned.

  “You’re sleepy, sweetie? Don’t worry, just sleep while we walk to town,” Mother said.

  I blanked out.

  When I woke up, it was to the stench of stale ale and the sound of men’s voices.

  “Come now, Dianne,” a man said. “Join us as our dedicated healer. Stop toiling in that kitchen. Provide for your family properly.”

  “I’m sorry, Bret,” Mother replied. “Even if I wanted to, the baron won’t grant me or my husband licenses to operate as adventurers.”

  “That’s because you’re from Shaxaian,” another man sneered. “They despise your people.”

  “Well,” said the bald man, Bret, “if you agree to be our healer, I can convince the baron’s son to help with your license.”

  “Yes, Dianne,” another man added with a smirk. “And you can earn extra if you… satisfy us in the dungeons.”

  “No. I am no whore,” Mother snapped.

  “Don’t you want your children to eat well? To stay warm in winter?” Bret pressed.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’m late for work,” she said, trying to skirt around him.

  But Bret grabbed her arm. “Before you go, let’s have a little taste.”

  “Let go of me ...hmmph!” Her cry was muffled as a hand clamped over her mouth.

  Serena screamed, but another man silenced her. I began to wail.

  “Somebody shut that kid up!” Bret barked, still trying to pin my mother’s wrist.

  This was bad. Very bad.

  I had no choice.

  Summon Imp.

  Congratulations!

  You have summoned an imp! + 5 Intelligence

  I focused, and after a few seconds, I heard the guttural chant:

  “Kahshik nakemo fozrit.”

  “What was that?” one of the men muttered. Everyone froze. Even Mother and Serena stared.

  Then it appeared.

  An imp. Green-skinned, twisted, with fire burning in its clawed hands.

  I gave the mental command: Scare them off.

  “Kahshik yatu!” the imp growled, grinning wickedly at Bret and his men.

  It hurled a fireball. The explosion scorched Bret’s bald head, sending him sprawling.

  “Shit! A demon! Run!” one of the men screamed.

  Panic erupted. They bolted, even Bret, who staggered away clutching his face.

  I was dropped unceremoniously, but Mother caught me before I hit the ground. Serena, sobbing, clung to her.

  They both stared at the imp, terrified.

  I quickly ordered it to shadow us, unseen.

  And just like that, it melted into the darkness.

  “That was a demon, Mother,” Serena whispered through

  “Let’s get out of here, Serena...before that thing comes back, or worse, before the guards arrive,” Mother said, her voice trembling but firm.

  Whew. That was far too close. My heart was still hammering as we hurried through the narrow streets toward the tavern, Mother clutching me tightly against her chest while dragging Serena along by the hand. Serena stumbled, still sobbing, but Mother didn’t slow down.

  I replayed the scene in my head. I could have tried using Shadow Tendrils, but there had been too many of them, and I could only command a single tendril at once. Against a group, it would have been useless. Summoning the imp had been the better choice—terrifying, dramatic, and effective. They scattered like frightened rats.

  And it worked.

  Still, I couldn’t let the imp linger in plain sight. Not here. Not now. I reached out with my mind, issuing the command: Hide yourself. Follow us from the shadows. I’ll speak with you later.

  The response came instantly, clear as a whisper in my skull.

  “Yes, Master.”

  A shiver ran down my spine. The words were obedient, but there was a gleeful malice in the tone, as though the creature relished the chance to serve...and to destroy.

  Mother clutched me tighter, unaware of the pact I had just reinforced. Serena glanced nervously over her shoulder, convinced the demon still lurked nearby.

  And she wasn’t wrong.