Chapter 4 The Unnatural System Awakening
The Little Fox's Growth
The dim morning light filtered through the nursery's curtains, casting elongated shadows across the crib where Kitsaro lay. He stirred awake, blinking sleepily as he shifted beneath the silken blankets.
Then, a voice echoed in his mind.
[Interference from an ancient beast god detected.]
[Conditions have been met. Early awakening of system has been allowed.]
A strange sensation surged through his body—like something vast and unfathomable stirring in the depths of his being. His breath hitched. Before he could even react, an ethereal interface spread across his vision, translucent letters forming words that should not exist in this world.
> [SYSTEM INTERFACE: BLOODLINE STATUS]
Kitsaro's drowsiness vanished in an instant. He stared, frozen, as the full system interface appeared before him.
~~~~~
[ Bloodline User]
Name: Kitsaro Azreal Vaelthyr
Age: Infant
Title: Unrecognized Heir of House Vaelthyr
Bloodline: Blood of Vyrath, The Nine-Tailed Sovereign ( Unawakened )
Blood Rank: (Locked)
Tail Progression: (Locked)
Active Path: (Locked)
~~~~~
[Bloodline Overview]
Beast Essence:
Blood Veins:
Blood Purity: (Locked)
Bloodline Name: Blood of Vyrath, The Nine-Tailed Sovereign Unawakened
Bloodline Traits: (Locked)
Bloodline Abilities: (Locked)
---
[User Attributes]
[ Attributes unable to be determined ]
Strength (STR):
Dexterity (DEX):
Constitution (CON):
Intelligence (INT):
Charisma (CHA):
Willpower ( WIL):
---
His mind reeled.
This shouldn't be happening.
He knew how things worked in this world—children were never meant to awaken their bloodline or system until the age of ten. And yet, here he was, an infant staring at a fully functional interface.
His hands clenched around the blankets as a deep unease settled in his chest.
This wasn't normal.
The world he had been reborn into followed a strict set of rules. Bloodlines were hereditary, awakening only when the body was developed enough to endure them. Even the most prodigious noble children didn't gain access to their system until much later.
So why…?
A horrifying realization dawned on him.
Who am I?
It was a question he hadn't allowed himself to ask before.
He had the memories and fragments of a past life here—but they were incomplete, mixed with knowledge that felt… external. He knew things about this world that no infant should.
More than that, he knew this story.
Or at least, he thought he did.
The original novel's plot was clear in his mind, yet—House Veyra? His mother, Sylvara? These names and this bloodline didn't exist in the original work.
I wasn't supposed to be here.
A chilling dread curled around him.
Did this mean he was an anomaly? A deviation from the original course? He had no proof, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.
If he wasn't part of the original story… then how could he trust anything he knew?
Kitsaro took a slow, steadying breath. His emotions threatened to spiral, but he forced himself to focus.
One step at a time.
He returned his gaze to the system interface. The only thing that truly stood out was the term "Beast Essence", which, unlike the other locked aspects of his bloodline, seemed to be active.
His mind flickered through memories—yes, he knew this concept.
Beast Essence was something tied to bloodlines of monstrous origin. It was the core energy that determined a beast's strength, the very essence that elevated creatures beyond normal limitations. In the original story, characters who possessed beastly bloodlines had to awaken their core manually.
But his system stated otherwise.
[Beast Essence: Accumulating…]
It's already gathering on its own?
Kitsaro frowned, trying to recall everything he knew about how it functioned. If he was right, this meant that his core was constantly absorbing surrounding energies, feeding itself even without his intervention. Normally, those with beast bloodlines needed meditation or external stimuli to trigger their awakening, yet his was already progressing without any action on his part.
Is this also because of the interference?
He had no answers.
But before he could contemplate further, the door to his nursery creaked open.
Footsteps.
His mother.
Kitsaro quickly shut his eyes, feigning sleep as Sylvara approached. He felt her gaze linger on him—sharp, calculating. Then, with surprising gentleness, she lifted him from the crib.
Her scent was cold, like winter steel and faint lavender. Unlike most mothers, she did not coo or hum as she carried him. Instead, she remained silent, her grip firm but not unkind.
They moved through the halls of the manor, past the towering windows that allowed golden light to spill across polished floors. Servants bowed in quiet reverence as Sylvara Vaelthyr passed.
Soon, they arrived at the dining hall.
Kitsaro was seated beside her, a servant placing a prepared feeding bowl before them. It was a routine he had grown used to—meals shared in near silence, Sylvara's expression ever unreadable.
He did not waste time overthinking.
For now, he simply observed.
Kitsaro remained silent as his mother fed him, the silver spoon cool against his lips. His mind, however, was anything but still.
The system had awakened far too early. His existence was an anomaly. And now, a deeper concern gnawed at him—the looming catastrophe that would soon engulf the world.
He had spoken of it before, albeit in vague terms.
A few years from now, the balance of power would shift. The noble houses, already caught in their endless political games, would find themselves overshadowed by a force beyond mortal comprehension. An ancient beast god, one that should have remained sealed, would awaken. And when it did, the world would burn.
The nobles had no idea what was coming.
The imperial family had no contingencies.
And he? He was supposed to be nothing more than an extra in this story.
But that could no longer be the case.
Even if he was an anomaly, even if he wasn't meant to be here, he had no choice but to prepare. If the world was doomed to fall into chaos, then he would ensure he was strong enough to stand above the ruins.
Strength was the only truth.
Survival was the only path.
Kitsaro's understanding of Beast Essence had been vague at first, but after focusing on the system's interface, he had pieced together how it truly functioned.
Unlike normal cultivation methods, Beast Essence did not require meditation or external catalysts. It was the natural accumulation of primal energy—something that happened instinctively in those with beast bloodlines. Most people had to forcefully refine it, but his system was doing it on its own.
That meant, as long as he let it build up, his power would grow without anyone noticing.
It was an opportunity. A secret advantage.
One he had to keep hidden.
Beast Essence was more than just a source of power—it was the very foundation of his bloodline's strength. Every beast-blooded lineage had unique traits, but they all shared one thing in common: the accumulation and refinement of Beast Essence dictated their growth, transformation, and abilities.
In weaker bloodlines, it merely enhanced physical attributes—strength, speed, endurance. Warriors of beast descent often had supernatural reflexes, heightened senses, and in some cases, partial transformations.
But in ancient and powerful lineages, Beast Essence determined far more than just physical prowess. It influenced the awakening of dormant traits, shaped bloodline progression, and, most importantly, fueled the manifestation of unique abilities.
Kitsaro's bloodline—the Blood of Vyrath, The Nine-Tailed Sovereign—was undoubtedly one of the latter.
Though most of his status screen remained locked, he understood what the Tail Progression meant.
His bloodline didn't just grant him physical enhancements.
It was transformative.
Each stage of evolution—would unlock greater abilities, much like how mythical beasts of legend ascended in power.
But there was a cost.
Beast Essence was the key to awakening his bloodline—but also its greatest danger.
Unchecked accumulation without refinement could lead to instability. Many who inherited beast bloodlines lost control, driven into a primal frenzy by the overwhelming force of their own power. Some were consumed entirely, their minds overtaken by the instincts of the beast within.
Kitsaro had no intention of suffering the same fate.
His system's passive refinement meant he wouldn't have to struggle with this process as much as others. It was ensuring his Beast Essence was properly assimilated, allowing him to grow stronger without backlash.
Still, that didn't mean he could afford to be reckless.
The stronger he became, the more his bloodline would demand from him.
And the more likely it was that others would notice.
~~~~~
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months.
Kitsaro never let his act slip. To the world, he was still an infant, helpless and unaware. But in the quiet moments—when he was alone in his cradle or when his mother left him in his room—he focused.
Each night, he turned his attention inward, feeling the steady pulse of power accumulating in his core.
[Beast Essence: 1]
[Beast Essence: 24]
[Beast Essence: 56]
It was slow. Too slow.
But it was progress.
After all, he was not an awakened child.
His mother never spoke of their lineage again.
And his father—
Kitsaro's fingers twitched against the blankets.
He had never met him. Not once.
The man who sired him had never attempted to show his presence, never acknowledged him. If not for the vague recognition of his name in the whispers of the servants, Kitsaro might have believed he never existed at all.
Why?
Kitsaro had no answers.
But for now, it didn't matter.
His life, so far, had been peaceful.
Sylvara provided everything he needed—shelter, food, a quiet existence within the manor. She was distant, yet attentive, ensuring his well-being but never lingering. There was no warmth between them, but there was also no hostility.
It was a strange dynamic.
Yet, he wouldn't complain.
For now, peace was a luxury. One he would use to grow stronger.
~~~~~
By the time Kitsaro had reached the age of two, his grasp on the world had sharpened considerably.
He listened to the conversations of the servants, memorized the names of noble houses, and gathered what little information he could about the current state of the empire.
It was worse than he expected.
The balance of power was already beginning to crumble.
The Six Great Houses were at odds with the imperial family, each seeking to expand their influence. The borders were restless, plagued by growing conflicts with the northern clans and eastern warlords. The royal court was divided, whispers of rebellion already festering beneath the surface.
And then there was the true threat—the one no one spoke of.
Nyzzirath.
The Abyss That Howls.
The name had not yet resurfaced in this era, but Kitsaro knew. He had seen its shadow in his visions, felt the weight of its presence even in this infant body.
The chains binding it would weaken.
It would stir.
And when it did, no army would be enough to stop it.
That was why he had to grow stronger. Faster.
No matter what.
But therein lay a problem.
Because he was not the only one tied to this crisis.
Kitsaro clenched his tiny fists, the realization weighing heavily on his mind.
In the original novel, Ashes of the Fallen Hunt, there was one central figure who stood against the impending calamity.
Rieken Valerion.
The last heir of a ruined noble house. A boy cast aside by the aristocracy, seen as little more than a relic of a forgotten lineage. But despite his lowly status, Rieken was fated for greatness.
Betrayal. Struggle. Revenge.
Rieken would rise from nothing, defying the world itself as he claimed the Ashen Hunt System—a power linked to the god-slaying beast, Kaelrith, the Ashen Fang.
It was he who would fight against Nyzzirath.
It was he who would challenge the gods.
And it was he who would determine the fate of this world.
Kitsaro exhaled slowly, his infant body too weak to contain the turmoil in his mind.
Rieken was the key to everything.
And yet…
Kitsaro's place in this world was uncertain.
In the original story, there was no Kitsaro Azreal Vaelthyr. No mention of his mother, Sylvara. His bloodline—The Blood of Vyrath, The Nine-Tailed Sovereign—was never referenced.
He was an anomaly. A deviation from the original plot.
Which meant he had two choices.
If Kitsaro followed the original course of the story, Rieken would struggle in obscurity for years before finally awakening his power. He would gather allies from the Six Great Houses, form uneasy alliances, and slowly carve his path to the peak.
If Kitsaro intervened, everything could change.
He could alter the flow of events. Give Rael an advantage.
But should he?
His presence alone was already a deviation.
Would helping Rieken bring stability to the world, or would it doom them both?
There was also another pressing concern—trust.
Rieken Valerion was not a simple protagonist. He was ruthless when necessary, a man who survived betrayal and hardship. While he had his principles, he was no blind hero.
If he discovered Kitsaro's hidden power, would he see him as an ally?
Or as a threat?
Kitsaro closed his eyes, deep in thought.
For now, he was too weak to decide.
He needed more information. More strength.
Only then would he choose his path.
For now, he would remain in the shadows.
~~~~~
By the time Kitsaro turned five, his act had become flawless.
To the world, he was a quiet child. Intelligent, perhaps, but nothing extraordinary. A forgotten noble heir with no apparent talent or ambition.
But beneath the surface, his power was steadily growing.
Kitsaro's Beast Essence had reached a threshold.
[Beast Essence: 300]
[First Threshold Met—Dormant Traits Strengthened]
A surge of power pulsed through his body, faint but undeniable. His senses sharpened. His reflexes, though still underdeveloped, felt more responsive.
It was working.
But it wasn't enough.
He needed more.
If he could find a way to consume raw Beast Essence, to refine it at a faster rate, then his progress would accelerate exponentially.
But there were risks.
Beast Essence wasn't something one could take in recklessly. Consuming too much at once could corrupt the body, overwhelming it. The nobles who wielded it trained for years to master control.
Although he had yet to unlock his bloodline's true abilities, but his Beast Essence had reached a level where he could begin manipulating it.
He had taken his first step.
A small one.
But in the grand scheme of things, even the smallest ember could ignite an inferno.
And when the time came, when the world finally realized what lay beyond the veil of their ignorance, he would be ready.
Because he was not just an anomaly.
He was the storm that would shape the future.