Execution
The days that followed were monotonous. The lord summoned Tiny every morning for their usual burdensome breakfast, and Tiny pushed his body to the limit in the training grounds or his room, endlessly practicing.
Huuuuwk. Hoo.
'Mana recovery being this fast is great for training too.'
Excessive training normally wrecked the body. But with the improved Mana Body secret art allowing rapid mana recovery, his physical recovery followed suit. What would destroy an ordinary kid—or even a human—in days, Tiny could sustain steadily.
And the result?
Tiny crossed an invisible threshold even before the expected week was up.
Wuuung.
His consciousness expanded, a new sensation taking root. Mana, which had only amplified his physical abilities within his body, now stretched outward, awakening a sixth sense beyond the five ordinary ones.
A familiar sensation to him, of course. Laughably underdeveloped compared to his past life, but improved in ways.
Kuuuuk. Crackle.
Tremendous power filled his lightly clenched fist.
'My body's way tougher now.'
Indeed, he'd devoured an absurd amount of food over the past three days—heavier than several times his body weight daily, enough for a giant mana beast. That massive intake broke down fully, fueling growth in both flesh and Mana Body.
His height shot up about 5cm in that short span, and his slender frame brimmed with disproportionate power, densely packed.
Yet his movements weren't sluggish. If anything, the condensed force in his small body added elasticity—faster, smoother motion than the raw power suggested.
'Better than expected.'
Defying common sense, his body clearly surpassed human limits. Even compared to his past life, it rang true.
His past Mana Body, shaped by a craving to grow huge and strong, had ballooned him to a 2.5m monster. This felt denser, more elastic than even then.
Size differences limited absolute output, sure.
'No need to bulk up uselessly like before. Bigger doesn't always mean stronger.'
Besides, past-life gigantism made daily life hell. He lived in human society, not an ogre horde.
So.
'This is better than mindless growth.'
With his mindset shifted, he'd likely stay near his natural build this life.
Wung.
His fully synced Mana Body vibrated in agreement. He now realized his past monstrous size stemmed from that mismatched craving, causing discord between flesh and mana.
'Yeah, this is right.'
Maintain a natural form, condense power endlessly with mana.
Thud.
Stomping lightly with his small frame shook the ground heavily.
A body this dense at stage 2? Later, he'd look ordinary outside but monstrous within—utterly unlike his past life.
One issue: skyrocketing weight.
"Fighting in swamps'll be a pain..."
Tiny grimaced, imagining soft, muddy terrain. But a rare case. Aura User at stage 7 would fix it.
For now...
Sneer.
"Good enough."
Pure joy from early achievement was plenty. And with this body...
'...Easier than I thought.'
His second plan would go smoother than planned.
The next day after his breakthrough, Tiny's routine repeated identically: breakfast with the lord, training at the knights' grounds. Gorge at the knights' mess, train more.
Four days of the same, ignoring stares—the little knight's antics lost novelty. Eyes wandered elsewhere.
'Good, body's adapted.'
Hoo.
Under the darkening sky, Tiny exhaled deeply, wiping sweat leisurely, scanning around.
Then, a knight approaching the grounds met his eyes and abruptly turned away.
'Hah...'
After crushing Grant, territory knights avoided him. Turns out the brute was second only to the captain here.
No soldiers intruded on his grounds anymore—no need to fake sloppy training to hide progress.
'Wouldn't matter if caught anyway.'
Tiny smirked, strolling lightly to the mess.
The head cook dashed out, bowing low as he entered.
"Sir Tiny, you're here. Meal's ready."
The mountain he pointed to looked richer than yesterday. Servants' attitudes shifted—lord's favorite meant no skimping, even as novelty faded.
Passing servants bowed deeply, ultra-polite. Spoke volumes of the lord's strictness with underlings.
No need to refuse kindness, though.
"Thanks."
He'd overheard whispers pegging him as next Philes Knights captain.
But the current captain didn't like it.
"Thinks he's nobility now, the brat."
Irritated voice—Cran behind him, square face hardened further.
Tiny turned, grinning undaunted.
"What is it, Captain?"
From initial hostility to sudden deference. Cran faltered briefly, then icier.
"...Lord ordered gear for you. Follow."
Ditched without waiting, like not his idea. Timing suspiciously pre-meal.
'Nah, he's not that petty.'
Still, assigning the captain personally for gear? Galling, even if vital.
'Worked out fine anyway.'
He needed something from this guy—would've sought him out.
Though less amicably.
Tiny's gaze sharpened on Cran’s waist as he turned.
Moments later.
"You'll see how highly the lord rates you. Be grateful."
Kiiik.
Cran’s words entering the armory—key-only for knights. Guards shooed away suggested treasures, but Tiny sighed mildly after glancing.
Fine steel gear, pricey, but nothing caught his eye.
'No artifacts here, obviously.'
No fitting armor, not even a warhammer—let alone mace-like.
'No side loot.'
Hiding regret, Tiny faced Cran, pointing at his waist.
"Can I get something like your sword, Captain?"
Cran scoffed, incredulous.
"Hmph, looks like mass-produced iron to you? 'Griius,' masterpiece from swordsmith house Rogers. Know your place, brat."
Proud tap—his beloved blade. Flowery hilt and sheath, mana humming through. Enchanted artifact, for sure.
Years of a backwater knight's pay. Blood money from Philes folk, invaders' women, beggar scum—bet his hand on it.
Killing intent surged.
"Pot calling kettle? Looks like it suits me better."
Quiet murmur—but Cran heard.
"...You sane?"
"Good gear belongs to the worthy, right?"
"Hah, you've lost it!?"
Cran fumed.
"For the lord too."
No room for nuance now.
"Wanna die that bad!?"
Cran bellowed—servants and soldiers scattered, necks shrinking.
And.
"If it irks you so, spar now? Lose, my head's yours."
Provocation flipped Cran’s eyes.
"You bastard!!"
And.
Crack. Thud. Bang.
Soon after the racket, Tiny limped out, bruised eye, leaning on cloth-wrapped 'stick.'
"Sorry, Captain! I'll be careful!"
Loud apology, deep bow to the depths. Soldiers and servants witnessed; all fled his gaze.
No one questioned why his armory partner didn't emerge.
"Sir Tiny, training over? Your condition..."
"Dunno. Captain's grudge or something."
"Ah... Rest well."
Servant nodded knowingly. Tiny shrugged past.
Others asked similarly; same vague answers, weary headshake.
Thus, none questioned the wrapped stick propping his limp.
Took twice as long to reach his room.
Click.
Locking up, brief rest—night fallen. Confirmed alone, he vaulted out the window, scaling the wall.
Kwajik.
Heavy for his size—window rattled—but overwhelming strength and mana made him breeze upward.
'Lord's chambers, third floor.'
Philes' vile rep aside, black mage sealed demon deal. No free power from devils.
2nd circle? Hundreds dead, dozens sacrificed.
'Deserves death.'
Maybe linked to missing invader women, beggar kids.
Kwajik.
Thought gripped harder—dent in wall. But propelled him faster.
* * *
"Th-the, uh, nightly service..."
"No need."
Timon von Philes clicked his tongue at the relieved servant.
'No woman refuses this noble beauty.'
Ego bruised, anger flared—but restraint needed now. No beatings, no girls.
"...Out."
That One came soon—no flaws allowed.
"Yes, my lord."
Silence filled the vast room. Unsettling, but.
'Days from now, He confirms the brat's bloodline—my rise begins.'
Endure a few days' pleasure denial? Easy.
Sole worry: if not that house.
Then the kid—and him—paid horribly.
Wolf was an org experiment too. Importance unknown, but utmost secrecy screamed vital.
Thus, not just Wolf.
'Punishment same for failure.'
Shudder at org's wrath—but composure returned. The brat was from that house.
No other genius bested a knight at that age. Black hair, black eyes clinched it.
"Can't wait."
Gulp. Gulp.
Philes downed a bottle of harsh whiskey, soothing lust and dread, collapsing into bed.
Booze and pills lulled him fast—but not long.
Ziiing!
'Hm!?'
Soul-shaking buzz snapped him awake, brow twitching. Alarm spell in his room triggered.
Couldn't flaunt curses or kills—black mage secret—but basic security essential.
Habitual, though. Who'd invade this backwater lord?
'Servant with nonsense.'
Annoying... Scold later.
'Or sacrifice...'
Foggy mind labored; sleep crept back.
As Philes drifted off again.
"Heaven's punishment, Lord."
Familiar voice. Eyes flew wide in shock—too late. Cold steel plunged deep into his heart.
"Guhk!"
Chilling frost shattered the circle masking his demonic mana—His magic.
Flowery hilt, mana-flowing: pricey Griius.