I'd say I've gathered more than 40% of all those specks floating inside me, though I still haven't decided on a specific element.
Five months old! The world looks very different when you're in a vaguely upright position. My legs are basically overcooked noodles with a mind of their own, but hey—I managed to string several steps together. Sure, I'm using furniture for support, wobbling around like a tiny drunk, but I'm walking!
The first time I made it across the short distance between the sofa and Dad's outstretched knees was… unforgettable.
Garen—"Ash Fang," "The Terror of the Hordes," the man with a brilliant Yellow core forged in a thousand battles—burst into tears.
Thick tears rolled down his cheeks as he hoisted me high with a booming laugh that kept cracking with emotion. "My champ! He's walking! Elara, look—our Lexo is walking!"
Mom just smiled, that warm, radiant smile of hers that seems to light up the room (maybe literally?), and clapped softly for me.
Yeah. Totally worth the countless crash-landings on my butt.
My internal refinement routine continues relentlessly. Every nap, every night, every quiet moment is a chance. And it's working. The feeling of scattered specks is fading—now I sense a denser, warmer concentration right under my sternum, like a small, rising sun.
According to my stats window, I've fused about 40% of those fragments. My core isn't a dying firefly anymore—it's more like a steady candle flame: small, but definite.
The blue screen flashed recently: MP: 15/15.
Significant progress!
I still haven't chosen an element. Stockpiling fuel and refining control comes first. There's no point in worrying about affinities if I don't have enough mana to do anything with them.
Then, one day, the outside world barges in—big time.
.........
Visitors.
A loud, colorful group arrives in the village, heading straight for our house. Dad's old adventurer buddies.
There's a massive blond guy with a braided beard thick enough to challenge Dad's, lugging an axe so big it looks like he wrestled a tree into submission. Beside him is a serious-looking elf woman, barely older than a teen, carrying an elegantly carved bow. And trailing behind them is a scrawny guy with a prominent nose, dressed like a ninja from head to toe, constantly toying with a pair of daggers. Very subtle, my dude.
They're ecstatic, slapping Dad's back so hard it sounds like thunder, all while sneaking glances at Mom with a mix of respect and… something close to nervousness.
"Garen, you old dog! So this is where you've been hiding!" roars the axe guy—Borin—who's casually carrying a freshly hunted beast over his shoulder.
"Not hiding, Borin. Just living quietly," Dad replies, though there's that old adventuring spark in his eyes. "By the way, impressive Stone Wolf—we're feasting tonight!"
The elf, Lyra, simply nods at Mom, ignoring the two giants beside her. "Lady Elara. It's an honor. We never imagined the great Garen could convince you to retire to a place like this."
"No need for 'Lady,' dear," Mom says smoothly, waving a hand. "My husband's friends are part of this family too…" Then she sighs. "As long as you don't cause any damage or bother little Lexo, are we clear?"
That last part is definitely rhetorical.
They all nod in unison—even Dad.
…Hold on. Lady Elara? You?
The pieces start clicking together, thanks to their chatter (and my exceptional skill at looking like an adorable, harmless baby while eavesdropping).
Mom isn't just a talented healer.
She's Elara Vanyae, supreme honors graduate of the World Academy of Mages in the actual capital. A Light mage whose potential, according to the dagger-tinkerer (Kael, I think), "made archmages tremble."
Dad laughs nervously. "Well, I don't know about all that. Her core is so bright I can't even perceive it! She's on another level."
…Yellow is one in a million.
And Mom's above that? White? Or something even rarer?
And this ridiculously powerful mage from the capital—with a reputation that apparently crosses borders—is here, changing my diapers and playing peek-a-boo with me.
The irony is delicious.
Her smile is still as kind as ever. Her hands are just as gentle when she plays with me or heals a villager's burn. The makeshift clinic in the room attached to the house is always busy, as people flock from all over to seek the miracle healer.
Dad's friends stick around for a few days. They eye me curiously—the son of a legend and a mystery.
Borin tries to make me laugh by tossing me into the air (equal parts terrifying and fun).Lyra watches me with those piercing elven eyes, like she's trying to read my future.Kael… well, Kael tries to teach me how to hide things, which is pretty useless when I can barely hold onto a rattle.
I've gathered a decent chunk of internal energy now—almost half of my initial potential. My control is still clumsy, but it's there.
And now I know.
My parents aren't just strong.
They're powerhouses.
Fire and Light, both at the very top of their game.
And Dad's friends?
They're a reminder that the world outside this little village is huge.
And one day, I'll be ready for it.