Days turned into weeks, weeks into months and soon, three years passed
Of course, I decided to use this time to condition my body. The problem was, I had no idea where to begin. So, I adopted a light version of Saitama's training routine: five push-ups, five sit-ups, five squats, and a 500-meter run. I know, it sounds absolutely pathetic—but I was only three years old. That was the best I could manage.
After a few months, my training doubled in difficulty. Then, six months passed, and it doubled again. Before I knew it, a full year had gone by, and I was able to handle a routine five times more intense than when I started. By the tender age of five, I could do ten times what I was once capable of.
This task was long and perilous, but I kept trying and never gave up. If I ended up with no magic, this was all I could rely on. Without it, I would be nothing.
In my previous life, I never trained this early. How could I, when I was too busy throwing tantrums and eating glue?
"Didn't taste bad though…" I thought, before shaking my head in disgust. "Hell no! I am not going through that again."
These last two years were incredibly difficult. The training became more intense and soul-crushing. I thought about giving up countless times—but then, one memory always resurfaced:
"If being weak can get you killed, I'd rather stay alive."
So, despite the pain and agony, I kept pushing forward, determined to break through my limits. You don't start something you can't finish. That's why I had to see this through.
"Seventy-seven… seventy-eight…"
I knew I would look back on this day and pat myself on the back, proudly saying, "We made it."
Every single night, my muscles screamed with every movement. Each session made my lungs beg for air. But giving up was never an option.
"Eighty-nine… ninety!"
If I wanted to become someone important in this world, then this was the path I had to walk—no matter what. I promised myself I would never be weak. Failure, to me, was the epitome of weakness.
"Ninety-eight… ninety-nine… one hundred, baby!"
Reaching that milestone, my arms finally gave out. They had held on for so long but could no longer support my weight. They had completed their assigned task. I collapsed onto the grass, face-first and completely motionless—except for the steady rise and fall of my chest.
"At age seven, I finally achieved something I could only dream about in my past life: completing Saitama's training at a young age." But as I recalled one final detail about that overpowered gag, I smiled wryly.
"I hope the bald part was just a joke. I've never liked being bald, ever!"
Even with the pain, I forced my body to roll onto its side. Gazing up at the sky, I noticed the sun was directly overhead. The sky was crystal clear—an ideal day for a walk. I even thought I saw a few anime characters in the clouds. At one point, I could've sworn I spotted a certain red-haired girl with red eyes.
"It's decided then. I'm going for a stroll today!" I pumped myself up—until my body kindly reminded me of its current condition. Even a slight ache was enough to make me reconsider. "Okay… as soon as I recover a little."
After an hour of rest and some stretches to ease the tension in my muscles, I set off—destination unknown. I just wanted to roam the city. Perhaps… it was time to start training with weapons.
I'd already been practicing martial arts, so I wasn't entirely defenseless. But I wanted to learn how to wield weapons simply because—why not? If I ever found myself in a situation where melee weapons were necessary, having no experience would likely mean death. And dying a second time didn't exactly excite me.
There were other reasons, too—like the thrill of beating my opponents with sheer versatility.
"That would be cool… but I have to take it slow. After all, a wise man once said: 'I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.'" I nodded at the wisdom of those words.
As I walked down the streets of the kingdom, a few stalls were open. Merchants were shouting, promoting their businesses and attracting customers. The mechanical sounds of horse-drawn carriages echoed as they rolled past. Compared to the high-speed cars of my old world, it was a huge contrast—quieter. No honking, just hooves.
I slipped a hand into my pocket and glanced at the cobblestone path beneath my feet. "This journey of mine will span years, but that's nothing to worry about. Once I begin my path to immortality, time won't even matter."
Turning a corner, I froze in pleasant surprise.
Not far ahead was a girl, visibly older than me. Her black hair flowed down her slender back, and her sharp black eyes carried a small scowl—no, a pout. Her posture radiated confidence, almost to the point of arrogance, yet her eyes held a maturity far beyond her years.
At her side was a small boy, about my age. He also had black hair and eyes, but his were different—monotonous, as if devoid of emotion, completely unfitting for someone so young.
Their appearances rang a bell. No, it was more than that—I had a hunch. But I'd rather confirm it than obsess over possibly false information. I had a plan.
"Good morning, miss," I greeted, stopping right in front of them.
The girl gave me a small smile but kept walking. "Good morning to you too."
It was like she had no intention of paying attention to others. Clearly, acknowledging people wasn't a habit she kept.
But I wasn't going to let this opportunity slip by. "I have one bullet in my hand, so I better load the gun and take my shot."
I turned and called after them, "May I ask where I can find a store that sells wooden swords?"
There was nothing shady about the question. I was approaching the age where I could begin sword training. If she thought I was too young, I'd just say it was a gift for my older brother.
"Oh, it's a few blocks from here. Head straight in that direction," she said, pointing to the left side of the road. I nodded, then turned my attention to the kid beside her.
I slowly extended my hand, amused by how he finally seemed to snap back to reality. He looked at me blankly, but there was a small spark of curiosity in his eyes.
"My name is Shin Luceris. It's the first time I've met a peer in forever."
He slowly lifted his hand to shake mine, his face still expressionless. "Nice to meet you too. I'm Cid Kagenou."
"I see. You know, I think you and I are alike," I said playfully.
Watching Cid raise his eyebrow made me think about the future this 'kid' had ahead of him. His sister, Clare Kagenou, observed our exchange with interest. Her gaze was sharp—calculating. I could tell she was studying me. I had a feeling she was already brewing plans.
"And how's that, dear stranger?" Cid replied.
I leaned in slightly and spoke in a quiet voice, "We're both just insignificant figures in other people's lives. The ones whose presence is never truly acknowledged."
For the first time since our conversation began, real emotion flickered across his face. Shock… and realization.
I turned and continued down the street, waving over my shoulder. "We should be passersby together sometime. It'd be nice to have a friend who's just as invisible as I am."
A voice called back, plain and uncertain, "But I don't even know where to find you."
"We'll meet at the store I'm heading to. Tomorrow afternoon should be fine."
And with those parting words, I continued on my way. Today, I had just checked one more thing off my to-do list—laying the groundwork for a grand organization.