Yooha Arin stood atop the city wall, staring into the wasteland.
The land beyond the barrier was quiet tonight—too quiet. Ash plains stretched endlessly beneath a cracked sky, dotted with the corpses of beasts she had slain years ago.
She should have felt peace.
Instead, her chest felt tight.
"…Again," she murmured.
The sensation had been following her for weeks now. Not danger. Not killing intent. Nothing she could point to and draw a blade against.
It was subtler.
Like standing near a clock she couldn't see, only feel.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Arin closed her eyes and extended her perception.
Mana flowed as it always had. The barriers were stable. No gods stirred. No liches whispered.
And yet—
Something was accumulating.
She opened her eyes sharply and turned toward the city.
Toward the Yooha estate.
Her frown deepened.
Jin was three months old when Arin first held him.
He was quiet. Too quiet.
Most infants cried, kicked, demanded attention from the world.
Jin simply watched.
Arin shifted him slightly in her arms, studying his face. His eyes followed her movement with unsettling clarity.
"…You're looking at me like you understand," she said lightly.
The baby blinked.
Slowly.
Arin's smile stiffened.
It wasn't power she sensed.
She knew power.
This was density.
Like compressed air before a storm.
She handed Jin back to their mother, unease curling in her stomach. "He's… different."
Their mother laughed softly. "You were the same. Always quiet. Always watching."
Arin didn't respond.
No, she thought. I wasn't.
Years passed.
Jin grew.
And the feeling grew with him.
Whenever Arin trained near the estate, her instincts flared—not screaming, but whispering. Not warning her of danger, but reminding her of time passing.
Jin walked early.
Spoke little.
Moved with unnatural efficiency for a child.
Once, Arin watched him cross a courtyard. His steps were small, unhurried, perfectly balanced. No wasted motion.
It sent a chill down her spine.
"He's not trying to surpass me," she realized suddenly.
The thought landed like a blade.
"He's not chasing anything at all."
That night, Arin dreamed of a mountain growing grain by grain, untouched by storms, unmoved by gods.
And when she woke, her hand was shaking.
Meanwhile, Jin sat alone in his room, legs crossed in a child's approximation of meditation.
[Stat Points: 1,942,113]
The number no longer impressed him.
It reassured him.
He allocated a fraction—carefully—into Martial Arts.
No pain.
Only clarity.
The world sharpened.
Time slowed.
Understanding deepened.
Jin exhaled.
"I won't waste you," he whispered to the unseen system.
Outside, the city slept.
Beyond the walls, gods remained ignorant.
And time continued its quiet work