Today marked the one hundredth day since Allen George was born.
For the House of George, this was an incredibly significant milestone.
According to the ancient laws of the family, the infant heir was required to partake in a bizarre, millennium-old tradition.
The child had to select a single object from a vast collection, and that chosen item would dictate the profession he was meant to pursue in his civilian life.
Because of the extreme exclusivity of their bloodline, the House of George took this selection ceremony incredibly seriously.
Right now, Allen was the sole hope for the family’s future.
The George family had an eccentric ancestral mandate.
Every heir was forced to live in the outside world, building a life as an ordinary citizen until their fiftieth birthday.
Only then were they permitted to return and govern the family empire.
Even his grandfather, Hammond, had lived completely unaware of his absolute power until he turned fifty.
Because John’s tragic accident had left him infertile, the family bloodline had grown dangerously thin.
Hammond was terrified of losing York to a similar tragedy out in the wild.
Consequently, the patriarch broke the ancient mandate, allowing both his sons to return to the estate early.
When they returned, John was just a university student, and York was working as a civilian engineer.
York had become an engineer simply because, on his one-hundredth day, he had grabbed a wrench.
In some ways, the ancient traditions of the House of George were utterly ridiculous.
“Oh, my dear Allen!
Come here, let Grandfather hold you!” Hammond beamed with joy.
Anna carried the baby into the grand hall.
Knowing her father-in-law’s terrifying temper, she did not dare delay.
She carefully placed the infant into Hammond’s outstretched arms.
Allen was already the absolute favorite of the entire household.
The reason was simple.
He possessed the mind of a grown man, and he knew exactly how to play the crowd.
A few weeks ago, Hammond had held him up and demanded a kiss.
A normal infant would have just stared blankly.
But Allen, realizing this intimidating old man was his new safety net, happily leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Hammond had been so stunned he was speechless.
When he finally recovered, he proudly declared to anyone who would listen that his grandson was a certified genius.
“My brilliant grandson,” Hammond muttered, pacing the room with Allen in his arms.
“Today is a monumental day.
It will decide the path you walk for the rest of your life.
Pick whatever you like.
Just make sure it is something you love!”
Hammond carried the baby into a massive, cavernous room.
Allen’s parents and his uncle John followed closely behind, eager to see what the prodigy would choose.
Jack Vance had already made his decision days ago.
He was going to be a soldier.
In his past life, he had been a tier-one JSOC operator.
He knew nothing else.
Warfare and tactics were carved into his bones.
Yet, when the double doors swung open, Jack was left completely dumbfounded.
The room was flooded with an ocean of toys.
A quick glance told him there had to be at least ten thousand different objects scattered across the floor.
Finding a toy gun, a miniature tank, or a soldier in this chaotic mess was going to be an absolute nightmare.
Hammond set the baby down at the edge of the pile.
The four adults sat quietly on velvet chairs nearby, watching with intense anticipation.
Allen scanned the immediate area but saw nothing military-related.
He had no choice but to try and stand.
He needed to wade deeper into the pile.
However, his infant body was pathetically weak.
He lacked the basic motor skills to balance.
He managed to stand for less than half a second before his legs gave out, sending him crashing face-first into the sea of toys.
Usually, his family would rush forward to coddle him.
Today, they all remained perfectly still in their chairs, honoring the strict rules of the ceremony.
Allen did not burst into wailing tears like a normal infant.
A Task Force Black operator bled, but he never cried.
That unbreakable stoicism was hardwired into his very soul.
However, his unconditioned nervous system betrayed him.
Crashing onto a pile of hard, jagged plastic sent a sharp spike of pain through his tiny frame, and moisture involuntarily welled up in his eyes.
Watching from the sidelines, the family let out a collective sigh of relief.
Allen had been acting so unusually intelligent lately that seeing him stumble and tear up felt wonderfully normal.
They were glad he was finally acting like a real baby.
Realizing walking was impossible, Allen gritted his gums and began to crawl.
The sheer volume of toys was making him dizzy.
Exhausted and frustrated, he spotted a standard leather football lying nearby.
Desperate for a better vantage point, he grabbed the ball with both hands, using it as a crutch to slowly heave himself upright.
He let out a heavy breath.
Standing upright gave him a much better view of the room.
Now he just needed to spot a military cap or a toy rifle.
But the sprawling mess of colors began to blur his vision.
Damn it, he cursed inwardly.
If I just had my old body, I wouldn’t have to put up with this humiliating charade.
Infuriated by his own helplessness and the sheer absurdity of the situation, he lashed out.
He swung his tiny leg and delivered a vicious, angry kick to the object right next to him.
He completely forgot that the football was the only thing holding him up.
The ball shot across the room.
Without his crutch, Allen instantly lost his balance and face-planted back into the pile of toys.
“Hahaha!
Look at that!” Hammond roared, leaping from his chair.
“My grandson wants to be a football star!
Excellent!
Since Allen has chosen it, we will hire the greatest coaches on earth!
The House of George is going to produce a legendary athlete!”
Hammond laughed uproariously.
“Come to think of it, no one in the family’s history has ever chosen an athletic profession.
Little Allen is a pioneer!”
“Indeed, Father,” York agreed, his eyes wide with amazement.
“Out of ten thousand toys, he went straight for the football.
He even used it to stand up.
And did you see the power behind that kick?
It was magnificent.”
“Our family’s children usually just grab the first thing they see,” John added, nodding sagely.
“But Little Allen spent ten whole minutes scanning the room.
He carefully evaluated his options before making a calculated choice.”
“He is so different from the rest,” Anna said, her hands clasped together in pride.
“He is truly brilliant.”
Their praises drifted into Allen’s ears as he lay flat on the floor.
What?
Football?
Are you insane?
Allen screamed in his mind.
My specialty is warfare!
You cannot just decide my future over an accident!
Where are my human rights?
He opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a series of frantic, babbling baby noises.
Hammond ignored the babbling entirely.
He scooped the infant up and planted a massive kiss on his forehead.
“Come now, our little star is exhausted!
John, start making the arrangements immediately.
Find the best trainers money can buy.
I want to see exactly how my grandson conquers the British sporting world!”
“Ba!
Ba!
Ya!” Allen cried out in desperation.
From his elevated position in Hammond’s arms, he finally spotted a pristine green military cap resting on a nearby shelf.
He flailed his tiny arms toward it, desperately trying to signal his true intentions.
Hammond did not even glance at the shelf.
He completely ignored the infant’s frantic squirming and triumphantly carried him out of the room.