After that absurd revelation—my own parents didn't even know what magic was—I decided to explain everything I had discovered so far.
Or at least… I tried.
I used simple words. I pointed at things. I described the feeling. I talked about the "little things in the air," about letting it flow, about the "mana heart" in my belly.
At first, they listened in silence.
Then the silence turned into excitement.
My father, Aragorn, was practically vibrating with enthusiasm.
"Son… I don't know what this does… but can you teach me?"
My mother covered her mouth, her eyes shining with emotion.
"My son is a genius…"
I wanted a hole to crawl into.
Unfortunately, my current abilities were limited to drooling and existing.
"Look, dear," my mother said with a smile. "Our Erond is embarrassed…"
"How adorable!" my father added, far too proud.
You two are not helping.
I took a deep breath and continued explaining.
Step by step.
How to feel it.
How not to force it.
How to simply let it flow.
And then…
It happened.
They succeeded.
On the first try.
The. First. Try.
I had spent months trying, failing, embarrassing myself, and even pooping in the process.
They closed their eyes for a few seconds and—
"I feel it!" my father said, surprised.
"Me too!" my mother said, amazed.
My pride was officially destroyed.
While I had been celebrating my historic achievement as a prodigy baby…
They had simply copied the instructions and executed them better.
My father opened a huge smile and looked at me expectantly.
"So, Erond… what comes next?"
I blinked.
"I don't know."
He crossed his arms thoughtfully and then declared:
"Then you better figure it out."
As if it were completely normal to demand that from a six-month-old baby.
My mother immediately smacked his arm.
"Dear! That's not how you talk to our baby!"
Ha!
I knew I could count on her.
My savior. My angel. My shield against unreasonable expectations.
"You forgot to say please," she added.
…
I take back everything I said.
I'm surrounded by lunatics.
Days turned into months.
And for the first time since I was reincarnated, my life stopped being completely monotonous.
I could crawl.
Yes.
Crawl.
It might not sound like much, but when you spend months trapped in a cradle, the ability to move on your own is basically the equivalent of unlocking fast travel.
I explored every corner of our house.
Well… I crawled with extreme dignity and purpose.
And honestly… sometimes I even convinced myself I was a genius.
"Look at that," I thought.
"Independent mobility after only a few months of life. Impressive."
Of course, that confidence disappeared every time I face-planted into the floor.
During my explorations, I noticed something strange.
There were no books.
None.
No shelves. No scrolls. No notes. Nothing.
At first, I thought maybe it was just our house.
Maybe my parents were poor.
Maybe they simply couldn't afford books.
I looked at my father, wearing his simple clothes made of natural fibers.
Then at my mother, in her carefully woven leaf dresses.
Hmm.
Alright.
Don't worry, Dad. Mom.
I'll fix that.
I have twenty-nine years of mostly useless knowledge from another life. Business ideas. Basic technology concepts. Simple tricks that probably look like miracles in this world.
I'm going to make a fortune.
Maybe I'll start with something simple.
Better soap.
Better tools.
Some kind of trade system.
Or maybe…
Books.
I smiled, still lacking enough teeth to look threatening.
This world doesn't know it yet.
But the baby crawling through their house…
Is going to become rich.