The First Ring of Fire

"My lady. I've brought it."

Helen, the head maid, held out a white bowl, steam still curling from its rim. Sylvia took it with a quiet word of thanks and began cooling the elixir inside, her gaze never leaving the child asleep in the bed.

"It's going to be hard to get him to take it, isn't it?"

"Children hate bitter things. You used to hate bitter medicine yourself when you were little, Lady Sylvia."

"I did?"

"You wouldn't remember, but there was a time you ran away because you didn't want to take it."

"Hey — Raon can hear you."

"Hehe."

The two of them looked down at Raon, whose breath rose and fell in a soft, rumbling rhythm, and smiled.

"Well, no child likes medicine. And Raon's still so little — he'll hate it even more."

"Lady Sylvia. Even so…"

"I know. He has to take it."

Sylvia nodded, as if settling the matter in her own heart.

This is the elixir that gentleman gave us. I can't leave even a single drop.

Perhaps Pedrick had been troubled by the sight of her begging her father that day. He had returned to the Annex and pressed three high-quality fire-attribute elixirs into her hands.

They were diluting the medicine, so it would last quite a while — long enough to find more. It was a blessing that he had come at all.

"Raon."

Sylvia stroked his hair with a gentleness meant not to sour his mood.

"Nnh…"

Raon's fingers twitched. His eyes opened.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Auuuung."

"Starting today, there's something Raon has to do. You have to eat all of this for me."

She scooped the elixir with a small wooden spoon and brought it to his lips.

He'll take it, but he'll cry right after.

A child's instincts would make him swallow — and the bitterness would make him spit it back out in a fit of outrage. That much ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was certain.

"Come on. Open up."

Sylvia held her breath so not a drop would spill, and eased the elixir into his mouth.

"Eugh…"

She saw his face scrunch up. She squeezed her own eyes shut, bracing for the wail that was surely about to burst out of him.

But no cry came.

"Huh?"

She cracked her eyes open. Raon was waving his tiny, chubby hands in the air — for all the world as if he were asking for more.

"Helen. Is he…"

"I-I think the young master is asking for more?"

"That's what it looks like, right? That's it, isn't it?"

Sylvia's eyes went round. She lifted the spoon again, scooped a little more than before, and tipped it into his mouth.

"Uuh!"

His eyebrows scrunched into a pained V. But he still didn't cry. His hands paddled even faster than before.

"Ah…"

Sylvia's mouth fell open.

"Does Raon understand how I feel?"

"I'm certain of it! The young master knows what you want, Lady Sylvia, and he's bearing with it for you."

The grimace made the bitterness obvious. But a child waving for more like that could only mean one thing: he understood her heart, and he was choosing to endure it.

"Raon!"

Sylvia couldn't hold herself back. She gathered him into a fierce hug.

Alright, that's enough. Just give me more medicine already.

Raon patted Sylvia's shoulder and waved his hands.

A little bitterness is nothing. I can't let this opportunity slip away.

Ordinary medicine would have been one thing. This was a fire-attribute elixir — the very thing he needed most. Even if it scalded his tongue past the point of tasting, even if it burned going down, he was going to swallow every last drop.

"Look at Raon! Doesn't he take it so prettily?"

"He really does!"

Raon paid no attention to whatever Sylvia and Helen were saying. He gulped down every spoonful they offered him.

I don't know what this is made of, but the effect is no joke.

The moment the elixir went down, a scorching heat flared in his belly, as if someone had lit a blast furnace inside him. Hot energy rolled through his mana circuits and began driving the cold out.

The potency is right. The concentration, too.

A strong elixir forced on a fragile child's body could just as easily become poison. Whether Sylvia and Helen had been careful about it or not, the concentration was pitched exactly where he could take it in.

"Hup."

Raon sucked the last of the elixir off the spoon, let out a tiny burp, and closed his eyes.

"My lady."

"Mm. Let's let him sleep for a while."

Sylvia and Helen gazed at him for a long time, their eyes shining with emotion, before they finally stepped out.

"Auu."

The instant they were gone, Raon's eyes snapped open.

They won't be back for a while.

And even if they were, they wouldn't disturb him. He'd eaten, he'd taken his medicine — Sylvia and Helen had no reason to wake him. It was the best possible moment to cultivate.

Raon drew in the hot energy filling his body and began forming the Ring of Fire.

Thanks to the elixir, forging the Ring of Fire and melting the cold will both go faster.

A smile touched his lips — one he wasn't even aware of.

Time ran like water. Two and a half years passed from the day Raon first began forging the Ring of Fire.

His days in that time had been almost comically simple.

He woke in the morning and played with Sylvia and Helen. After lunch and his elixir, he pretended to nap and cultivated the Ring of Fire. He ate dinner, went to bed a little early, then woke around midnight — when the whole house was asleep — and began his second session.

Whatever else could be said of him, he could claim with certainty that among every three-year-old on the continent, none lived more diligently than he did.

If things go well, the Ring of Fire might reach one-star today.

Thanks to the elixir, his progress had never stalled, even though his actual cultivation time wasn't long. If he could just secure the right window and the right focus, completing the ring today felt within reach.

That aside — he really has no interest at all.

Glenn Zieghart had not shown his face even once since the day he named ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠him. It wasn't only Raon. He seemed equally uninterested in his own daughter, Sylvia.

Well. Doesn't matter.

If that side offered no interest, this side had none to give. As he'd thought before: take what he needed from this house, and leave. That was all.

Except… just a little.

Sylvia, Helen, and the other maids who would remain here after he was gone sat uneasily on his mind. Three years together had apparently been enough for a tiny sprout of feeling to take root.

"Raon. Try saying Mama!"

He was fidgeting with his fingers, turning over the future, when Sylvia scooped him up with a bright, silly grin.

"Mama!"

"Auuu! One more time!"

"Mama!"

"Kyaaah!"

He mashed the pronunciation on purpose as he called her Mama, and Sylvia's whole face bloomed. Her eyes were drowning in happiness.

"Raon. Just once more!"

"Mama!"

"Lady Sylvia. I've brought the medicine."

He was playing with Sylvia, his little face already starting to tire, when Helen arrived with a bowl of warmly heated elixir.

"Ah — thank you."

Sylvia took the bowl from her.

"Here, Raon."

She let the warm elixir cool a little, then held it out.

"Ahp!"

Raon's small mouth came forward to meet the spoon.

"He takes it so well!"

Two and a half years on, and Sylvia and Helen still broke into the same fond smiles every time they watched him swallow the elixir.

"Sleepy…"

Once he'd finished it, Raon blinked slowly, putting on a drowsy face.

"Medicine's all gone. Shall we take a nap?"

"Mm."

"Alright. Night-night."

Sylvia laid him on the bed by the window and patted his stomach.

"Uuung…"

Raon closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. A moment later he heard Sylvia and Helen leave the room. This stretch — the hours he spent feigning sleep — was their rest time as well.

I can start now.

Eyes still shut, Raon recited the Ring of Fire's cultivation formula and drew in a breath.

A low rush of air. The natural mana he pulled in on the inhale spilled through his whole body.

The flow of mana is smooth.

He was breathing exactly as he always did, and yet the mana ran through him like silk. It felt like something was about to give.

Stay calm.

He exhaled slowly, linking the threads of mana as they traveled his circuits. His lungs were small; his breath ran short, and his fingertips trembled. He held on anyway.

A deep, rolling heat. He shaved away the cold inside his mana circuits with the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠elixir's fire and the natural mana, then circulated it through his entire body.

A faint crackle. He could feel the elixir's energy and the mana soaking into bone, muscle, and skin.

He kept his focus honed, sharper and sharper, as if he were whetting a blade — and he kept forging the Ring of Fire.

He couldn't have said how much time passed.

A flash.

A searing sensation slammed through his chest, as if a ball of fire had driven straight through his heart. Hot energy was whirling around it like a hoop.

At last — the Ring of Fire was complete.

Finally—

He was about to open his eyes and shout when a gold light flared in front of him.

What… is this?

A light like the magic circles mages used when they cast hung in the air before his eyes.

Even after the message announcing that he had acquired the Ring of Fire, more lines kept unfurling in a cascade.

Huh?

Raon's mouth rounded into a small O.

What is all this…

The messages appeared, and in the same instant his body felt lighter. He was still a child, so the difference wasn't enormous — but the change itself was unmistakable.

And the pain's gone down, too.

The ache of the cold clogging his mana circuits had eased.

Did the Ring of Fire always have this kind of power?

The Ring of Fire was a legendary cultivation art, that much was true — but it wasn't supposed to show any real effect until three rings had formed. Its true power only began at four. A change like this from a single one-star ring had never happened in his previous life.

Is it the elixir? Or because this is a child's body?

He turned it over from every angle and still couldn't find an answer.

Or is it because of these messages…

Raon read the words hanging in front of him again.

There were any number of differences between this life and the last, but the biggest one seemed to be this — these messages.

"Young master. You're already awake."

Helen's voice came from above his head. She must have come back into the room while he was cultivating.

"He'ren! Lookit this!"

Raon jabbed a finger at the magic-circle-like messages.

"Hm? The bed?"

Helen couldn't see them. She only smiled, glancing at the bed instead.

So only I can see them?

If they were invisible to Helen, the messages were for his eyes alone.

Status Window? Wait—

He had no idea what that meant, but the moment he repeated the words in his head, a pane of light like the messages themselves sprang up in front of his eyes.

He studied the thing called a Status Window at a slow, careful pace.

Curse of Bitter Cold, inferior stamina, full-body cold affliction, diminished athletic ability and mana sensitivity…

The conditions listed seemed to be a description of his current state.

As I thought. This body is garbage in every direction.

The Curse of Bitter Cold was one thing. On top of that he had a cold constitution and inferior stamina. That was why he exhausted himself after even a little movement.

Still. It doesn't matter.

Raon pressed his lips together. The list of poor constitutions was long, and he didn't feel a flicker of unease.

In his previous life he had been called the greatest assassin there was, and he knew the Ring of Fire — a cultivation method unmatched in a thousand years. If he completed it on the foundation of that life's experience, those shortcomings might as well not exist.

And this is House Zieghart.

If he mastered the sword arts this house kept as its secret treasures, taking Derus Robert's head was entirely possible.

But he couldn't think only of revenge.

I'm only three years old.

Derus was one of the strongest people on the continent. If he started burning himself up with thoughts of vengeance now, his mind wouldn't last. Almost no one alive could kill that man anyway. Slow was fine. He would stack his strength with care, and when the chance came, he would end it in a single stroke.

Raon clenched his fist as if sealing the vow, then looked at the Status Window again.

That aside — what are these messages, really?

He had no idea why they and the Status Window had suddenly appeared. His assassin's senses told him only this: they meant him no harm.

It's probably tied to the reincarnation.

He had a vague hunch that the reason he'd been reborn with his previous life's memories and these messages were connected. Like the matter of Derus Robert's neck, it was something he would have to uncover slowly.

Don't rush. Stay calm, and go steadily.

Raon checked the message window and grinned.

Finally.

Two and a half years of steady training after the first ring had formed, and now the second Ring of Fire had been born. The first ring circled his heart horizontally. The second, newly forged, whirled around it vertically.

Whether it was because of the message about his sensitivity rising or not, his sense of the mana drifting through the room ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had grown keener. Those messages really did seem to be granting him some special benefit.

Two Rings of Fire at five years old.

Acquiring a legendary cultivation art like the Ring of Fire at such a young age was almost certainly a first in the history of the continent. Pride swelled full in his chest.

But I can't be satisfied with this.

Just because things were going to plan didn't mean he could let his guard down. He had no idea when interference might come, or from where. He had to be thoroughly prepared at all times.

Because I don't want them to get hurt.

Sylvia, Helen, and the other maids had done nothing but give to him. He was going to leave, so he couldn't help them in return — but he didn't want to take advantage of their kindness, either.

"Hah."

He was about to start cultivating again when the door burst open.

"Son!"

Sylvia came in. She was smiling, but her complexion was a little dark.

"Mom?"

He was past five now, so he had to call Sylvia Mom properly. A little slip in the pronunciation was unavoidable.

"I told you we had somewhere to go with Mom today, didn't I?"

As she spoke, she set a dark crimson ceremonial robe on the bed and started peeling off his sleep clothes.

Now that she mentions it.

A little while ago, they'd said they were gathering the young children of the direct and collateral lines for some kind of evaluation.

"Don't worry. It'll be over quickly."

Sylvia gave him a bright smile, as if she were the one who needed to reassure him.

"Okay."

"How is my boy this good and this precious?"

Halfway through changing his clothes, she pressed her cheek against his and nuzzled.

Ugh. Please…

Raon could neither push her off nor pull her closer. All he could do was twitch his hands.

It was Helen who finally stopped Sylvia's rampage — Sylvia, who had gone on hugging him long after the clothes were on.

"My lady. This is no time for that. The Appraisal Ceremony is about to begin!"