Kurogane Ikki: "Another one!"

The old manor was vast, but it lacked the warmth of a home. Dust clung to the walls, the furniture was aged, and the dim candlelight flickered as though reluctant to illuminate the neglect within. The windows were left slightly open, the crisp night breeze slipping through, making the room eerily cold.

Inside a simple crib, Ikki lay on his back, his tiny fingers curling and uncurling against the thin, rough sheets. His delicate baby skin was irritated, a faint rash forming where the neglected diapers had chafed him. He did not cry—he had long learned that it would bring him no comfort, no soothing hands or whispers of reassurance.

Instead, the only company he had were two maids—one with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue, and another who followed her lead, meek and submissive.

"Honestly, why are we stuck here?" The first maid, a woman named Sanae, huffed as she lazily leaned against the window. "Babysitting a failure. We should be in one of the main households, not this forgotten place."

The second maid, Reika, glanced at her nervously, adjusting her grip on a bowl of thin porridge. "But… but the Kurogane family ordered it, didn't they? It's not like we have a choice…"

Sanae rolled her eyes before strolling over to the crib, looking down at the child with a disinterested expression. "He doesn't even cry properly. It's unsettling." She sighed before shoving the spoon into the bowl. "Here, hold him while I feed him."

Reika hesitated before awkwardly lifting Ikki into her arms, the motion stiff and uncomfortable. Ikki barely reacted, his golden eyes observing them both, taking in their movements. He had already learned that these hands were not gentle.

Sanae brought the spoon to his lips carelessly, some of the porridge dripping down his chin.

"Ugh. He's such a mess." She clicked her tongue in annoyance, wiping his mouth with the rough edge of a cloth. "At least a dog knows how to clean itself up."

Ikki gurgled softly, not in protest, but in quiet observation. He did not understand the cruelty behind their words, but he understood the lack of warmth.

Later, after the mockery of a feeding session, they placed him back into the crib.

"Let's play with him a little," Sanae said with a wicked grin. She grabbed a small ball, tossing it gently towards the crib before quickly pulling it away just as his tiny fingers reached out.

Ikki blinked, his instincts flaring—the challenge stimulated something deep within him. He reached out again, his small limbs moving clumsily, but no matter how much he strained, crawled, or lunged, the ball was always just out of reach.

The maids laughed.

"Look at him struggle!" Sanae smirked, bouncing the ball between her hands. "It's like a little animal chasing after food. Pathetic, really."

Ikki's small hands clutched at the sheets, his body trembling slightly from the effort. No matter how hard he tried, he could not grasp it.

At last, exhausted, he simply lay back down, his deep black eyes narrowing slightly, as though committing the experience to memory.

.....

In the cold loneliness of his crib, Ikki stared at the moon outside the window, his lips parting as he muttered something—or at least tried to.

"R… Re…ika…"

His voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it reverberated in the empty nursery.

But there was no reply. No comfort.

Just the moon, distant and unfeeling.

And so, he fell asleep, his small frame curling up in the blankets without warmth or love.

---

One month later.

The air inside the abandoned manor had not changed, but the child within the crib had.

Ikki had adapted.

Where once his tiny limbs struggled, they now moved with purpose. His bones had strengthened, his muscles no longer weak and frail. His movements were faster, sharper, and far more refined than a child his apparent age should have.

And yet, the maids had not noticed.

Sanae was once again tossing the ball, laughing to herself as she pulled it away at the last moment.

But this time, Ikki was not just reaching.

This time, he calculated.

He crawled forward, his body coiling like a spring. He knew the rhythm now—knew the pattern of her movements. The ball always came down just so, before she pulled it away.

And the moment she brought it close—he moved.

Faster than ever beforere.

Sanae's laughter halted mid-breath, freezing in her throat as the ball vanished from sight—no, not vanished. It had been snatched.

Reika, who had only half been paying attention, felt a chill creep up her spine as her eyes landed on the child.

The ball, once bouncing just out of reach, was now held firmly in his tiny hands.

Her mouth parted slightly, but no words came out at first. Her mind struggled to process what she had just witnessed—a child barely a month old had just executed a movement with such a precision she had Nevers seen in a young babe.

It wasn't just a lucky grab.

It was intentional.

"H-he… caught it…" Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

Sanae blinked, as if trying to force reality to correct itself.

"No way," she muttered, her smirk faltering, replaced by something tighter, tenser. Her hands curled into her sleeves, her heart beating faster than she wanted to admit.

It wasn't just the fact that he caught it—it was how he did it.

There had been a rhythm to his movements, a calculation behind his reach. Not a flailing baby grasping at the air, but a deliberate motion. His body had coiled like a spring, his timing perfect, his abyss like eyes locked onto the ball with eerie focus.

That wasn't normal.

Not for a baby. Not for a child barely able to stand.

A creeping sense of unease clawed at her gut.

Reika took an instinctive step back, her eyes flicking between the ball and the child holding it. "Sanae… that wasn't…" She gulped. "That wasn't normal."

Sanae forced a scoff, though it came out weaker than intended. "What, you think he's some kind of prodigy?" She tried to laugh again, but it lacked confidence. "He's still a failure, Reika."

But even as she said it, her mind raced.

If an F-rank could move like that…

If a child with no potential could react with such speed and accuracy…

Then what about the others?

Sanae's stomach twisted uncomfortably. The thought was disturbing.

She didn't like it.

Didn't like that for the first time since coming to this miserable manor, she felt something close to fear.

Reika, still staring at the child, hugged her arms to herself, feeling suddenly exposed under his gaze.

Because Ikki wasn't laughing.

He wasn't smiling in excitement, or babbling in confusion.

He simply sat there, holding the ball, his black eyes watching them.

And for the first time, the two maids felt like they were the ones being observed.

Sanae's expression darkened slightly, trying to shake off her discomfort. "Well, of course, he did. He's still from the Kurogane family. Even if he's an F-rank, he can't be completely useless."

But her words were uncertain.

Reika swallowed, her voice barely a whisper. "If… if this is the level of someone with no potential, then… then what about the others?"

The thought unsettled them both.

And yet, in their ignorance, they chose to dismiss it. After all, who would believe them? They were only servants.

And so, they continued their indifferent care, unaware of what they had witnessed.

---

That night, the manor was silent.

Ikki stood in his crib once again, his small hands gripping the wooden bars, his eyes once more fixed on the silver moon above.

But tonight, something was different.

He could feel it—a stirring within him, as though his body itself had begun to reshape, refine, and evolve.

His muscles tightened, fiber by fiber, reinforcing themselves.

His tendons stretched, becoming denser, stronger.

His bones thickened, growing just a little more solid.

It was not normal growth—it was something else.

Something… unnatural.

And yet, to Ikki, it felt right.

The burning sensation in his body made him restless. But even as he stood there, silent and small, he understood.

He was changing.

His body was tired. His eyes grew heavy.

And as he drifted into sleep, he felt the world around him shift.

.....

Ikki opened his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was the smell—a fresh, earthy scent that was different from the stale air of the manor.

The second thing he noticed was the ground beneath him—not a crib, not blankets, but something soft, damp… alive.

His tiny fingers reached out, brushing against the moss-covered earth, feeling its texture.

Curious, he plucked a piece, bringing it to his mouth.

And then—

"Pffft!"

Ikki spat it out immediately, his tiny face twisting in disgust, a small frown forming on his lips.

For the first time in his short life, he felt genuine surprise.

The air smelled different. The light was different.

And most of all—he was no longer in the manor.

He was in a forest.

The night wind whispered through the trees, and the world beyond his crib stretched out endlessly before him.

And thus, for the first time in his life—Ikki took his first step into another world.