By the time I could stand, the tribe had already begun whispering.
Children normally took a year or more to walk. I did it in nine months.
It began with my fingers gripping the edge of a fur-draped table, legs shaking, joints stiff. The hut swayed in firelight, heat pushing against my skin. Haniwa slept bundled in furs nearby, sucking on her fist.
Baba Voss sat sharpening bone arrowheads, scraping them against stone with rhythmic precision. His head tilted, tracking the tremor of my footsteps before I took the first one.
I lifted a foot.
Shifted my weight.
And walked.
Two, three, four steps — slow, deliberate, but steps nonetheless.
I didn't fall.
Baba's hand paused mid-sharpen. His breath stilled, then he set down the blade and turned his head toward me.
Infants didn't walk this early. Infants didn't walk this steadily. And they certainly didn't stand without someone steadying them.
His voice, when it came, was low and sure.
"Come here, little prince."
I walked to him.
Not crawled — walked.
He chuckled, a deep rumble from his chest. "Strong bones. Strong feet. You will survive many winters."
The system chimed quietly.
Milestone Cleared: Early Mobility
New Passive: Combat Reflex Foundation
+Balance +Reaction Speed +Spatial Awareness
The last bonus amused me. Spatial awareness was meant for sightless warriors to navigate. For me, it was power multiplied.
Haniwa woke, blinking at us. She tried to stand too, wobbling with determination. She fell back onto her butt and pouted.
Baba reached out without sight and ruffled her hair. "Patience. Your turn will come."
It did—three weeks later. She walked, too, though shakier, but with a grace that meant she saw the world like I did.
The First Hunt
At the end of winter, when food remained scarce and the snow softened enough to track prints, Baba Voss prepared a hunting party.
He strapped furs across his shoulders, checked the tension of his bowstring, and lined bone-tipped arrows in a quiver. The council whispered, uncertain if he should take children so young.
He took us anyway.
Not out of recklessness — out of principle.
Children learned the world by being in it. The tribe could not afford to raise helpless heirs.
He tied us to his chest and back with woven cord, one facing forward, one backward. I was in front. Haniwa on his back.
The forest was a cathedral of silence. Snow muffled sound, absorbing footfalls. Branches creaked overhead, heavy with melting frost. Baba walked without hesitation, turning at the slightest shift in wind or faint snap of twigs.
The hunters behind him followed by listening to his footfalls and matching rhythm.
In a land without sight, rhythm was direction.
I watched the forest with newborn eyes and an adult mind.
Tracks. Spoor. Broken branches. Fur caught on bark. The woods were a map others couldn't read. Rabbits darted near snowdrifts. Deer moved in cautious patterns. Wolves circled further out.
I tapped Baba's chest twice — short, then long.
A signal I'd invented: prey ahead, close range.
Baba froze.
The hunters froze with him. Silence spread.
He sniffed the air. Tilted his head. Listened to wind through antlers scraping branches.
Then he nodded.
They advanced.
A buck grazed by fallen logs, antlers sharp and frost-covered, unaware of the silent predators approaching from behind.
Baba nocked the arrow. Drew.
Even blind, his aim was frightening. He listened to breath, heartbeat, hoof-shifts, and wind.
The bowstring snapped.
The arrow buried cleanly into the buck's neck. It collapsed, kicking once, then stilled.
The hunters cheered softly — praise through touch and whispers. Food meant life. Life meant another winter.
The system chimed.
Development Quest Reward:
+Food Surplus (Minor)
+Tribal Morale
Influence: +2%
Influence.
The currency of rulership.
I wasn't a ruler yet — not even a warrior — but systems understood long-term paths better than people.
Return to the Village
We returned with meat slung over shoulders and children tied to fur-wrapped harnesses. The tribe celebrated with stew, smoked cuts, and marrow scraped from bone.
While others feasted, I sat by the fire, eating mashed root and tiny shreds of meat. Haniwa gnawed on a bone, fascinated by its shape.
Voices whispered around us.
"The children… walk early."
"They feel the world differently."
"They will grow strong."
No one suspected sight yet. They attributed everything to endurance, lineage, or spirits.
Good.
The longer sight stayed hidden, the greater the impact when it surfaced.
Retainer System Unlock
That night, when the fire dimmed and the village slept beneath fur and smoke, the system awakened again.
Soft chime.
Dominion Update Unlocked: Retainers
A new screen formed in my mind.
Retainer Slots: 0/3
Retainers are individuals who grow alongside the Sovereign as:
• Generals
• Advisors
• Scholars
• Craftsmen
• Spies
• Diplomats
Below it, a line:
Potential candidates detected within tribe: 2
Two? So early?
A second window appeared:
Candidate 1: Baba Voss
Role Potential: General / Warrior / Trainer
Loyalty: High
Strength: Exceptional
Intelligence: Moderate
Vision: Blind
Notes: Ideal early-stage military foundation.
Candidate 2: Haniwa
Role Potential: Scout / Diplomat / Scholar / Chronicler
Loyalty: Absolute
Strength: Low (Current)
Intelligence: High
Vision: Sighted
Notes: Untapped latent potential.
Tech trees, retainer trees, kingdom-building — everything layered like a strategy game, but with stakes measured in blood and winter.
The system prompted:
Would you like to bind 1 retainer?
I hesitated.
Binding could strengthen them — share growth bonuses, skill gain, combat potential — but it might also alter destiny. Binding Haniwa might interfere with her own arc, independence, or politics. Binding Baba might make me reliant on him too early.
Not yet.
I mentally answered: No.
The system accepted.
Retainer Slots preserved.
Patience was a ruler's virtue. Children seized power. Emperors seized timing.
First Threat
Early spring brought more than thawed soil for our primitive gardens.
It brought a threat.
I sat playing with sticks and rocks near the river, pretending to be a child while secretly teaching Haniwa how to stack and sort objects by size and shape — primitive cognitive foundations every future empire needed.
Then I heard it.
Not with ears — with eyes.
A figure in furs watching from the treeline.
Not ours.
Leather armor. Bone weapons. Hair braided with wet clay — a sign of the Slavers of the Valley. Raiders. Child-snatchers. They preyed on small tribes, taking children to sell to Payan nobles as servants and breeding stock.
They were not supposed to appear for years — not this early.
My sight broke canon again.
Haniwa babbled beside me, unaware. The raider watched us, calculating risk. He didn't see sight — only opportunity.
Then he moved.
Fast.
Too fast for a toddler to outrun.
I inhaled sharply — systems firing, instincts merging with memory.
I screamed.
Not words — a loud, piercing wail that carried through the trees like a dying animal. The raider flinched, but didn't stop. He lunged toward Haniwa.
I threw myself into him.
A baby tackling a grown man was ridiculous — but Sovereign Physique gave me strength far beyond my size. It wasn't enough to win — but enough to interrupt.
Haniwa fell backward, crying.
The raider cursed and reached for her. He never finished.
Baba Voss exploded from the trees like an animal unleashed, spear in hand. He didn't hesitate. Didn't ask questions. Blind or not — he knew violence when he heard it.
He tackled the raider, wrestling him into the snow. Bone cracked. Blood spattered tree roots. The raider choked on his own tongue as Baba snapped his neck with terrifying efficiency.
Silence returned.
Baba turned to us, breath heaving. His hand reached through the air until he found my shoulder. He pulled both of us close, shaking with adrenaline and fury.
"You will not take my children," he growled.
Wolves howled in the distance.
The system chimed:
First External Threat Neutralized
New Trait: Sovereign's Instinct
+Risk Detection
+Enemy Recognition
+Reaction Speed under Stress
Another screen loaded:
Era Shift Triggered
The arrival of slavers marks the beginning of the Tribal Conflict Era.
Prepare for war, diplomacy, or unification.
War.
I wasn't even a year old.
Perfect.
An empire born in peace dies in peace. An empire born in war survives.