The Greedy Prodigy
The morning after his eighth birthday, Rayan woke up with a smile.
For the first time in his life, he possessed an ancient technique that could store objects inside his shadow.
He could make things disappear.
He could make them reappear.
And, most importantly, he could potentially avoid carrying heavy objects with his hands.
What a wonderful world.
After washing up and eating breakfast, Rayan carefully rolled the ancient scroll and headed straight for his grandfather's study.
He knocked on the door.
"Come in!"
Grandpa was sitting behind his desk, reading some documents.
Rayan entered, walked up to him, and placed the scroll on the desk.
"Grandpa, I've finished studying this technique. I'm returning the scroll."
Grandpa looked up.
He glanced at the scroll.
Then he looked at Rayan.
"You've finished studying it?"
Rayan nodded.
"Yes."
Grandpa rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Good. Keep practising it. Understanding a technique is one thing, but mastering it thoroughly is another. You must learn its limitations and make sure you can use it reliably."
"I will, Grandpa."
"Excellent."
Grandpa returned his attention to his documents.
Rayan stood there.
Grandpa continued reading.
Rayan shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
Grandpa turned a page.
Rayan scratched his cheek.
Grandpa picked up his teacup.
Rayan scratched his head.
Grandpa took a sip.
Rayan cleared his throat.
Grandpa finally lowered his cup.
"Is there something else?"
Rayan smiled.
"No, Grandpa."
Grandpa stared at him.
Rayan smiled even more innocently.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Finally, Grandpa sighed.
"Spit it out, boy."
Rayan immediately straightened.
"Grandpa, since I've finished studying this scroll, could I perhaps have another one?"
Grandpa froze.
Then he slowly placed his teacup on the desk.
"Another one?"
Rayan nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes! There are still three techniques left, right? I thought I could begin studying the next one."
Grandpa stared at his grandson as though the boy had just requested ownership of the entire family estate.
"Rayan."
"Yes, Grandpa?"
"How old are you?"
"Eight."
"And how long have you been studying the first technique?"
"Since yesterday."
Grandpa closed his eyes.
He took a deep breath.
Then another.
This boy is going to give me a headache.
When he opened his eyes again, he wore a stern expression.
"No."
Rayan's smile disappeared.
"No?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
Rayan considered this explanation.
An airtight argument. Truly, the wisdom of the elderly is beyond my understanding.
He tried again.
"Grandpa, I promise I'll study hard."
"I know."
"I won't waste the scroll."
"I know."
"I'll practise every day."
"I know."
"Then—"
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
"You're still not getting another scroll!"
Rayan's shoulders drooped.
Grandpa leaned back in his chair.
"Listen carefully. These three techniques are not toys. You have only just begun understanding the first one. You still need to improve your mental endurance and learn how to use your ability under different conditions."
Rayan opened his mouth.
Grandpa raised one finger.
"And before you ask, no, learning one technique quickly doesn't mean the others will be easy."
Rayan closed his mouth.
He's learning to anticipate my questions. This is dangerous.
Grandpa continued, "When you enter the academy and begin studying necromancy properly, I'll give you the remaining three scrolls together."
Rayan's eyes brightened.
"All three?"
"All three."
"Really?"
"Yes."
Rayan's smile returned.
"Then I'll—"
"WHEN YOU ENTER THE ACADEMY!"
Grandpa's voice boomed through the study.
Rayan immediately stepped back. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Grandpa pointed toward the door.
"Until then, practise what you've learned. Strengthen your body, improve your mental endurance, and stop trying to collect ancient techniques like they're toys!"
Rayan stared at him.
Then he bowed.
"Understood, Grandpa."
He turned toward the door.
Just before leaving, he glanced back.
"Grandpa?"
"What now?"
"Can I at least look at the other scrolls?"
"No!"
Rayan hurried out.
The door closed.
Silence returned to the study.
Grandpa leaned back and rubbed his forehead.
"This boy…"
He shook his head.
Then, despite himself, he smiled.
"He's certainly ambitious."
Outside, Rayan walked down the corridor with his hands behind his head.
Three more scrolls.
I only need to wait until I enter the academy.
He nodded.
Fine. I'll be patient.
He walked several more steps.
Very patient.
Another few steps.
Extremely patient.
He stopped.
I wonder whether Grandpa keeps the scrolls in the same cabinet.
Then he immediately shook his head.
No! I mustn't think like that.
He resumed walking.
Besides, I have more important things to do.
He glanced toward the backyard.
Like testing how much wood I can store in my shadow.
His expression brightened.
And perhaps making Grandpa pull the carriage for a change.
For the first time that morning, Rayan laughed.
He was going to have a wonderful childhood.
Probably.
Provided his grandfather didn't discover his plans.
The Weight of an Invisible Burden
Over the following days, Rayan continued practising the storage technique.
At first, he used small objects.
A book.
A wooden toy.
A cushion.
A few tools.
Then he gradually moved on to heavier things.
The technique worked exactly as described in the scroll.
The storage space itself seemed enormous. There was no obvious limit to how much space the objects occupied inside it.
However, the weight of those objects did not disappear.
When Rayan stored something, he could feel its weight as a burden associated with his shadow.
It wasn't exactly like holding the object in his arms, but it was unmistakable.
And the more he stored, the heavier the burden became.
This was where Grandpa's training proved useful.
Years of running, lifting wood, performing push-ups, and pulling that infernal carriage had strengthened Rayan's body considerably.
His mental endurance had also improved.
He could now maintain his shadow for long periods without exhausting himself, and he had learned to manage the strain associated with his bloodline ability.
Still, he discovered that there was a difference between being able to store something and being able to carry its weight comfortably.
One afternoon, he stored a wooden box.
It was manageable.
He added a few books.
Still manageable.
Then he stored several pieces of wood.
His body immediately felt heavier.
Rayan frowned.
So the weight really does accumulate.
He tried walking.
He could move, but his steps felt less comfortable.
He removed some of the wood from storage.
The burden eased.
He nodded thoughtfully.
All right. I need to learn my limits.
He spent the next several weeks testing different amounts of weight, carefully observing how his body responded.
Eventually, he reached a point where carrying approximately fifteen kilograms in his shadow was comfortable enough for ordinary daily activities.
He could store that much without feeling significantly burdened during his usual routine.
He could walk around the house, practise his techniques, and perform simple tasks without much difficulty.
Beyond that, he needed to pay closer attention to his endurance and the duration for which he carried the load.
Rayan was satisfied.
Fifteen kilograms might not sound extraordinary to a powerful necromancer, but it was a useful amount for an eight-year-old.
More importantly, it meant he could transport tools, books, and supplies without carrying them in his hands.
He smiled.
Grandpa's training has finally paid off.
Then he paused.
Wait.
He looked toward the forest.
He remembered the years of exhausting exercises, the endless running, and the countless trips pulling the carriage.
His smile slowly faded.
Was that why Grandpa made me train so much?
He had always assumed his grandfather wanted him to develop a strong body and better mental endurance.
That was certainly part of it.
But now he understood another reason.
The storage technique would place a burden on him whenever he carried objects.
Without adequate physical conditioning and mental endurance, even a seemingly simple technique could become difficult to use for long periods. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Grandpa had been preparing him for it without knowing exactly when he would master the technique.
Or perhaps the old man had simply understood that every bloodline ability came with limitations.
Either way, the training had been useful.
Rayan nodded seriously.
I suppose I owe Grandpa some gratitude.
He thought for a moment.
I'll thank him after he lets me read the other three scrolls.
That seemed fair.
At least to him.
The Forest's Uninvited Guest
One afternoon, during a routine training trip, Rayan noticed something strange.
He had been gathering wood near one of the familiar forest paths when he spotted several broken branches.
At first, he ignored them.
Branches broke all the time.
Then he noticed the marks on the ground.
Deep impressions.
Far too large to have been made by an ordinary animal.
Rayan crouched and examined them.
His expression became thoughtful.
Those are some big footprints.
He looked around.
The forest was quiet.
His grandfather was nearby, inspecting the wood Rayan had collected.
Ran was sitting on the carriage, swinging her legs and humming a little tune.
Everything seemed normal.
Yet the tracks made Rayan uneasy.
He followed them with his eyes.
They led away from the familiar path and toward a denser part of the forest.
Rayan didn't move closer.
He had learned enough from Grandpa to know that curiosity could be dangerous.
Especially when it involved unknown beasts.
Instead, he called out.
"Grandpa?"
The old man turned.
"What is it?"
Rayan pointed toward the ground.
"Do you know what made these tracks?"
Grandpa walked over and examined them.
His expression changed almost imperceptibly.
He crouched, studied the impressions, and then looked toward the deeper forest.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he stood.
"Everyone, stay here."
Ran stopped swinging her legs.
"Why?"
Grandpa looked at her.
"Because I said so."
Ran immediately nodded.
Rayan almost smiled.
An airtight argument. I wonder where I've heard that before.
Grandpa examined the surrounding area carefully.
He didn't seem frightened, but his expression had become more serious than usual.
After a short while, he returned.
"We're going home."
Rayan blinked.
"Already?"
"Yes."
"But we haven't finished gathering the wood."
"We have enough for today."
Rayan glanced at the tracks.
He understood that Grandpa wasn't going to explain everything in front of Ran.
So he nodded.
"All right."
The return journey was quieter than usual.
Grandpa didn't ask Rayan to increase the carriage's speed.
He didn't tease him about being lazy.
And he didn't make Ran sit on Rayan's back during push-ups.
Under ordinary circumstances, Rayan would have celebrated these mercies.
Today, however, they only made him more curious.
Something was wrong.
He could feel it.
When they reached home, Grandpa instructed the adults not to let the children wander into the deeper forest without supervision.
He offered no further explanation.
Later that evening, Rayan tried asking his father about it.
His father listened, then gave him a thoughtful look.
"Some creatures in the forest are much stronger than ordinary animals. If your grandfather tells you to leave an area, you should do so immediately."
Rayan nodded.
"I understand."
His father smiled faintly.
"Good. Curiosity is useful, but it must be accompanied by caution."
Rayan returned to his room that night with the tracks still on his mind.
He wasn't foolish enough to investigate them alone.
But he couldn't help wondering what kind of beast had made them.
And why Grandpa had reacted so seriously.
He looked down at his shadow.
For a moment, he considered sending it to investigate.
Then he remembered Grandpa's warning.
No.
I'm not stupid enough to risk my life over a few footprints.
He climbed into bed.
I'll ask Grandpa when he's ready to explain.
Outside, the wind moved softly through the trees.
Far beyond the familiar paths, something stirred in the forest.
Rayan didn't know it yet, but that brief encounter would become one of the memories he carried into his teenage years.
For now, though, he had more immediate concerns.
Tomorrow morning, Grandpa would probably wake him before sunrise.
And he still hadn't figured out how to make the old man pull the carriage.