The sun was high the next day when a knock came at the door of the hut.
Torin opened it, his frame filling the doorway. A man stood outside, around 25 years old with dark hair and sharp eyes. He wore a simple tunic, but carried himself with an easy authority. In his arms, he cradled a small bundle wrapped in soft cloth.
"Torin," the man said, his voice warm. "I heard the news."
"Chief Alaric," Torin said, stepping back to let him in. "Come in."
Alaric, Chief of Lochten Village, ducked inside. His eyes went straight to Elara, who sat by the hearth with Kael in her lap. "Elara. Congratulations to you both."
"Thank you," Elara said, smiling. She looked at the bundle in his arms. "And you. How is little Liana?"
Alaric's face softened. He looked down at his sleeping daughter. "Loud. Very loud. My wife, Anya, is getting some rest while I walk her. She never stops moving." He chuckled. "Your boy seems calmer."
"He's a quiet one," Torin agreed, gesturing for Alaric to sit on a stool by the table.
Kael watched from his mother's lap. He focused on the new man.
───────────────────────────
ALARIC
Race: Human (Adult)
Age: 25 years
Occupation: Chief of Lochten Village
───────────────────────────
HP ....... 190/190
STR ...... 18
AGI ...... 16
VIT ...... 19
CON .... 18
INT ..... 15
WIS ..... 17
───────────────────────────
Abilities
› Leadership 2
› Spear Mastery 1
───────────────────────────
"It's good to see you, Torin," Alaric said, shifting Liana gently. "The village needs its best hunter rested and ready. The deep woods have been… unsettled. Tracks I don't recognize. Larger than a wolf."
Torin's expression turned serious. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "What kind of tracks?"
"Clawed. Deep. Spaced far apart. It's moving through the old pine grove, near the northern ridge."
"I'll take a look tomorrow," Torin said. "Before first light."
Alaric nodded, relief clear on his face. "Thank you. I wouldn't ask so soon after…"
"It's my duty," Torin said simply. "The village provides for my family. I provide meat and safety. That's the balance."
"And you do it better than any three men," Alaric said. He looked at Kael again. "He has your eyes, Torin. The Vale blue. He'll be a strong hunter one day, no doubt."
"He'll be what he chooses to be," Elara said softly, her hand stroking Kael's blonde hair.
"Of course," Alaric said quickly. He stood up, careful not to jostle his daughter. "I should let you rest. I just wanted to bring my congratulations in person. Lochten is stronger with another Vale in it."
Torin stood and clasped the man's forearm. "Give Anya our best. And tell her Elara will bring some honey cakes by when she's able."
After Alaric left, the hut was quiet again. Torin stared at the closed door, his mind already in the deep woods.
Elara looked down at Kael. "A hunter," she murmured. "Or something else."
Kael listened, his infant mind turning over the words. Unsettled woods. Large tracks. Best hunter. His father was important here. Respected. That meant safety. For now.
He looked at his own tiny hands, curled into weak fists. He had the Appraisal skill. He had Stat Steal. But he was a baby. He couldn't do anything yet.
He had to wait. He had to grow.
For the first time, the thought didn't fill him with frustration. It gave him a goal. He closed his eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire and the steady beat of his mother's heart.
Time passed in the gentle rhythm of Lochten Village.
Seasons turned. The deep snows of winter melted into the muddy green of spring. Spring bloomed into the thick, humid heat of summer. Summer faded into the crisp, golden harvest of autumn, and then the cycle began again.
For Kael Vale, life was a quiet river. It was warm stew by the hearth. It was the sound of his father sharpening his hunting knives at night. It was the smell of pine resin and earth when Torin returned from the woods, sometimes with a deer slung over his broad shoulders, sometimes with nothing but a grim line on his face.
Torin hunted. He protected. Every few months, he would leave before dawn and return after dusk with news for Chief Alaric—a goblin scout driven off from the western creek, strange signs near the old mines that bore watching. Goblins were a nuisance, Torin told Elara one evening as Kael played quietly with carved wooden blocks. They were cowardly things in small bands, all snarls and stolen tools. A good hunter could handle them.
Orcs were different.
"You don't hunt an orc," Torin said, his voice low as he cleaned his bow. "You survive it. If you see their tracks, you run back to the village and bar the gate."
Kael listened, storing every word in Chen Hao's memory like data in a bank.
He learned that Lochten Village sat in the east of a kingdom called Veridia. It was a small dot on no map anyone here owned—a cluster of maybe fifty families nestled against mountains and surrounded by ancient forest.
His own growth felt rapid to him because he remembered another life's pace.
He spoke early.
At 6 months old: "Mama and Papa." Clear as bell.
By one year old: full sentences without baby talk.
It startled Elara at first; she would stare at him with wide green eyes before sweeping him into a hug so tight he could barely breathe.
Torin just grunted, a proud glint in his blue eyes. "Strong blood."
Kael's body grew stronger each day. He walked at 12 months. By eighteen months, he could run without stumbling on the uneven dirt path outside their cottage.
His father was a mountain of muscle and instinct. His mother was warmth and sharp wit.
Kael himself, at two years old, was still weak. But his numbers crept up as he sometimes caught a mouse or bird and killed it.
This time he caught a mouse which was small, brown, and terrified. It scurried along the base of the cottage wall.
Kael's chubby toddler hand came down fast. He didn't hesitate. His palm pinned the creature to the dirt floor of their home.
Its tiny heart beat frantic against his skin.
He held it there until its struggles stopped.
[Stat Steal 2 activated]
[Target: Forest Mouse]
[You have permanently stolen 10% of it's stats]
[Stole 0.1 STR > New STR 1.2]
[Stole 0.2 AGI > New AGI 1.6]
[Stole 0.1 VIT > New VIT 1.7]
[Stole 0.1 CON > New CON 1.6]
[Stole 0.1 INT > New INT 12.4]
[Stole 0.1 WIS > New INT 11.1]
He then checked his new stats:
───────────────────────────
KAEL VALE
Race: Human (Infant)
Age: 2 years
Occupation: None
───────────────────────────
HP ....... 16/16
STR ...... 1.2
AGI ...... 1.6
VIT ...... 1.7
CON .... 1.6
INT ..... 12.4
WIS ..... 11.1
───────────────────────────
Abilities
› Appraisal
› Stat Steal 2
› Preserve Soul (Passive)
───────────────────────────
He was making great progress.
The Lochten market was a riot of color and noise under the summer sun. Elara held Kael's small hand as they moved between the stalls, her basket already half-full with root vegetables and a wrapped piece of salted pork.
Kael walked beside her, his steps steady. His blue eyes scanned everything—the blacksmith hammering at his anvil, the weaver selling thick wool blankets, the farmer with baskets of late-summer berries. He used Appraisal on a passing dog.
───────────────────────────
FARM HOUND
Race: Canine (Adult)
───────────────────────────
HP ....... 45/45
STR ...... 8
AGI ...... 11
VIT ...... 7
CON .... 6
INT ..... 3
WIS ..... 5
───────────────────────────
"Elara! Over here!"
A woman's voice, warm and familiar. Anya Dageshaw stood by the pottery stall, a woven bag over her shoulder. Beside her stood a little girl.
Elara smiled and pulled Kael over. "Anya! And Liana. How are you both?"
"Busy," Anya laughed, adjusting her bag. "Alaric has Torin checking the northern snares again today."
Kael's gaze shifted to the girl. She had long brown hair tied with a simple ribbon and bright green eyes that stared back at him with open curiosity.
[Appraisal]
───────────────────────────
LIANA DAGESHAW
Race: Human (Toddler)
Age: 3 years
Occupation: None
───────────────────────────
HP ....... 10/10
STR ...... 0.8
AGI ...... 1.1
VIT ...... 1
CON .... 1
INT ..... 3
WIS ..... 4
───────────────────────────
He was taller than her by nearly half a head, despite being a year younger.
Liana tilted her head. "You're Kael."
Her voice was clear, matter-of-fact.
"I am," Kael said. His own voice was quiet but even.
She studied his face—the blonde hair, the serious blue eyes. "You're pretty," she announced after a moment. Then she shrugged one small shoulder. "But you don't talk much. Are you slow?"
"Liana!" Anya hissed, flushing.
Elara just chuckled, squeezing Kael's hand.
Kael looked at Liana for a long moment. The intelligence in his eyes was ancient, but to a three-year-old, it just looked like a blank stare.
"No," he finally said simply.
Liana seemed to consider this verdict. She reached out and poked his arm experimentally, as if testing his solidity. "Hmm."
Liana's green eyes narrowed. She kept her finger pressed against his arm. "How old are you?"
"Two," Kael said.
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Two?" She pulled her hand back, looking from Kael to her mother, then to Elara. "But you're big. And you talk."
"He's strong for his age," Elara offered, her voice gentle.
"He's strange," Liana concluded, but her tone held more fascination than accusation. She took a step closer to him, peering up into his face. "Do you want to play?"
Kael considered the question. He remembered playgrounds, video games, the structured fun of his first life. This was different. This was dirt and sticks and imagination. "What do you play?"
"Chase," she said instantly. "Or hide. Or find shiny rocks."
Anya shook her head, a fond smile on her lips. "Let the boy breathe, Lia."
But Liana was already reaching for Kael's other hand, the one not held by his mother. Her fingers were small and warm. "Come on. I know a place."
Elara gave Kael's hand a soft release. "Go on. Just by the big oak, where I can see you."
Liana pulled, and Kael let himself be led away from the stall, his steps matching her quicker, less certain pace. They weaved through the legs of market-goers until they reached the shade of a sprawling oak tree at the edge of the square.
They stood under the oak's vast canopy. The sounds of the market faded to a low hum.
Liana let go of his hand and crouched, digging in the soft dirt with her fingers. "I find the best rocks here." She pulled out a flat, gray stone and held it up. "See?"
Kael crouched beside her. "It's smooth."
"I know." She brushed the dirt off and offered it to him. "You can have it."
He took the stone. It was cool and ordinary. He looked at her. "Thank you."
Liana watched his face, searching for something. "You don't smile."
"I do," he said.
She poked his cheek. "Do it now."
He attempted a small smile. It felt stiff on his face.
Liana giggled. "That's a funny face." She dug out another stone, a rough one with a stripe of quartz. "This is better." She placed it in his palm on top of the first one. "Now you have two friends."
"Rocks can't be friends," Kael said, the logic of an adult cleaner and a nuclear technician surfacing.
"They can," she insisted, her small chin jutting out. "They listen. They don't tell secrets." She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "My papa talks about scary things at night. Big things in the woods. My rock friends keep the secret."
Kael's gaze sharpened. He thought of Torin's grim reports, the tension in his father's shoulders after visiting the chief. "What big things?"
Liana's confidence wavered. She shrugged, a child's dismissal. "Just monsters." She looked at his serious blue eyes and seemed to decide something. "You're like a rock. Quiet. You listen." She poked him again. "But you're warm."
From their spot by the stalls, Elara and Anya watched the two children.
"He's so still for a boy his age," Anya murmured.
Elara smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "He thinks. Always thinking."
Under the tree, Liana grew bored of rocks. "Let's play chase. You chase me."
She didn't wait for an answer. She sprang up and darted away, her laughter bright. Kael stood. His AGI was 1.6 to her 1.1. He could catch her easily, could calculate the angle of her turn.
Instead, he ran after her at a toddling, clumsy pace, letting her stay just out of reach.
Her laughter turned to taunts as she glanced back. "Slow! You're so slow, Kael!"
Her words were just a child's tease, but something clicked. A cold, sharp focus fell over him. He wasn't Chen Hao the cleaner. He was Kael Vale, and his AGI was 1.6. Hers was 1.1.
He stopped his exaggerated stumble. His legs, still short and chubby, pistoned forward. Dirt scattered under his small boots. He closed the gap in three swift strides.
His arms wrapped around her middle from behind, a firm, deliberate tackle. They tumbled into the soft grass in a tangle of limbs.
Liana's laugh cut off with a soft oof. She lay pinned, blinking up at the leafy canopy, then at his face above hers. Her green eyes were wide.
Silence stretched between them. Her teasing smile was gone.
She wriggled out from under him and sat up, brushing grass from her dress. She didn't look at him. She studied her hands, her earlier bravado vanished.
Kael sat back on his heels. He watched her, waiting for the tears or the shout.
Liana looked at him, her expression unreadable. She brushed a blade of grass from her knee.
"You're fast," she said, her voice quiet.
"You said I was slow," he replied.
She shook her head. "I was wrong." Then she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't tell anyone. Not even the rocks."
"I won't."
She nodded, satisfied.
The sun climbed higher. They stayed under the oak tree, moving from chasing to a quiet game of stacking the smooth stones into wobbly towers. Liana chattered about her mother's cooking, about a lost kitten she'd found, about the way the forest smelled after rain. Kael listened. He added a stone to her tower.
When Anya called for her daughter, Liana stood and brushed the dirt from her dress. She looked down at Kael.
"Come to market next time," she said. It wasn't a request.
"I will."
She gave a single, firm nod, then ran back to her mother's side.
Elara collected Kael, her hand warm on his shoulder. "Did you have fun?"
He looked at the two stones she had given him, still in his small hand. "Yes," he said.
Kael watched Liana disappear into the market crowd. The smooth stones were cool in his palm.
At home, he placed them on the wooden shelf near his sleeping mat. They looked like any other child's treasure.