Everyday Life

During Milo's upbringing, his mother often told him old tales of heroes as he was drifting away to sleep.

The most common one she used was of the founder of the Van Belched name, when apparently they were ranked as a Marquess family. It was said that over 500 years ago this world was embroiled in a vicious war for dominance with the other races. A group of individuals all set out in order to bring peace to the chaotic times.

This group of heroes went on to establish the human kingdom and govern it together, each reigning over a specific part.

From this seemingly made-up story, he was able to discern two vital pieces of information. The first was that the rank one was born with wasn't set in stone, they could either advance or regress due to outside factors. If he had to make an educated guess, it was likely down to popularity, prosperity and most of all amongst snobby nobles, jealousy.

The second, and perhaps the most intriguing was that it wasn't only humans that inhabited this world. In his original world, humans existed but so did dragons, wolves and such. He wasn't sure how this world operated but if there was a chance he could meet another dragonborn, well, that was certainly an act he would make into a goal.

Nestled on his bed in his rather small room that was adequately decorated with the bright colours that a child would love, he pushed himself up and landed on the floor. He glanced over towards the corner of his room where a small wooden sword sat perched against the wall. He picked it up and swung down, the hilt slightly slipping from his grip but it was more than stable enough.

It was a gift he had gotten from his father who had made it from scratch. It was a fact he had come to terms with early on that even though he was nobility, he wouldn't be able to get the best equipment or the most expensive tutors. What he did have, was a set of parents who were so loving it pushed them to the extreme to keep their children happy.

For this Milo was grateful.

'Now then …'

With a click of his tongue, he began spiralling into a pattern of stabs, slashes and kicks. He wasn't a swordsman in his past life, but thanks to his latent ability in wielding Qi he was forced to at least learn some techniques. Not to mention he had killed countless people that possessed hidden sword arts and techniques.

These arts weren't anything special on their own, what made it worthwhile was after he had refined them. Once you refined an art, whether it be Qi, Shi, Yu or Ta, the technique and how to wield it became engraved into your very soul. Through this, Milo was more than capable to drawing on some of the techniques he had learned, even though he needed to adjust them thanks to not being able to draw upon Qi.

Although he was still pudgy around certain areas, particularly his stomach. He made it a point to ensure he stretched and kept his muscles flexible each day. He also made attempts to temper his own bones by constantly slamming his fist onto them. Surprisingly it worked out for him, compared to the average child, his body was much sturdier and more built than most.

His body itself was a blessing, for how much fat, muscles and his bone density, his height and weight were what he considered to be a perfect balance. If only he could start training mana, he would be able to catapult his growth.

He clenched then unclenched his hand. A rough patch formed where the sword was lay.

'It's not bad at all, in fact I can faintly sense the mana particles in the atmosphere. I just can't draw on them with no place to store it …'.

Likely due to his past experience with Qi, sensing the mana was an easy task for him. Even without his core active, the faint warm and vibrant colours of the nodes of mana filling his room were like a calm breeze washing over his entire being. The fact of the matter was that this only served to make him more frustrated, it was akin to knowing how to do something but not physically having the capability to pull it off.

'Unfair …'.

That was the only word that came to his mind.

He couldn't understand it, why the limit of awakening at 7-years-old even existed. He had tried to force his core to awaken using techniques from his previous life, but they had each failed spectacularly. It didn't matter what he did, nothing could force his core to open.

He slumped back against his bed, wiping away the sweat that was trickling down his face.

'I wonder about the courts, how they are dealing with the fact I'm missing'.

It was an irrefutable fact that despite his power, he was still no match for the supreme deity. He was an omniscience and omnipotent being after all, nothing could escape from his eyes.

This meant that he likely understood that even though Azure Dragon's body might have perished, his soul still lived on. If he is aware, this makes life much more difficult for Milo. Souls have very specific fluctuations, each one different from the other. This makes it much easier for the deity to keep track and maintain each soul that is under his watch.

It sounds impossible, but for him it's doable. During his reign he had established a system for keeping track of the billions of souls under his guidance. It was a system even the Azure Dragon acknowledged as perfect. It wasn't anything extravagant, in fact it was stupidly simple for such an important task.

[Overall soul count]

[Active soul count]

[Afterlife soul count]

[Missing soul count]

[Remedial soul count]

[Court count]

Each of these counts was closely maintained. The active count was the overall number of inhabitants still alive. As you can guess, the afterlife count was the number of souls that had perished and resided in the realm of the dead. The missing soul count was the number of souls that weren't alive nor dead, something that rarely happened given this count rarely exceeded the count of 10, and each time it got higher Azure Dragon was the one responsible.

The Remedial count was the number of souls who chose a life of sin, after their death they were sent into an Abyss where they slaved away for eternity rather than having the chance to be reborn. Which was a seemingly common thing thanks to poverty and desperation.

The court count was perhaps the most important of all of the soul counts. It was the number of elites who resided in the 12 courts of heaven. You might think because you need to be elite the number was miniscule, but when you take into account the countless worlds he governed for centuries, the court count was fairly high. This meant the supreme deity's power continually increased without him even needing to lift a finger.

'He's extremely crafty, most of the court probably don't think realise they are dancing in the palm of his hand'.

"Milooooooo".

He let out an annoyed sigh and quickly tucked himself into bed. He glanced out the window before slipping under the covers noticing the sun starting to rise.

'Shit was I seriously awake all night again?'.

Him staying up late trying to figure out the workings of his body and power was a seemingly common theme. Each time he would be woken up by this, his father bundled through the door and flipped the covers off him. He was dripping in sweat from his own morning workout but still shone a bright smile towards the young boy.

"Come boy, lets go and learn the sword!".

His father grew even more enthusiastic after he caught Milo tinkering with a sword one time. Rather than questioning how a 4-year-old child learnt how to wield a sword, he was so over the moon about it he seemingly forgot that it defied all common sense.

Without warning, he picked Milo up and dressed him in an all-black jumpsuit with a white shirt and shorts. He then carried him through the living space of their home and out into the front garden, where he then tossed him another small wooden practice sword.

"Are you ready Milo?".

"Yes father".

The two instantly fell into a pattern of blows, starting with Milo pivoting effortlessly away from his fathers lunge and aiming a stab at his right side. Sion brought his blade up to block the blow, but his legs got tangled and he found himself stumbling backwards. Using this chance, Milo slipped beneath his blade and swung upward, aiming to take his father's head.

Milo found himself enjoying these little spars with his father, but …

'Am I being too obvious?'.

He averted his gaze for a split second, an act that his father picked up on. In response, he swept Milo's legs from beneath his body sending him tumbling to the floor.

'There we go, make sure I don't give away I'm a reincarnate'.

Even though he had no real concerns, he was still well aware of his current situation and understood that he couldn't get too carried away. Especially when it came to beating a grown man in a fight.

'He's so talented!'.

Sion thought to himself watching his son climb to his feet. Since the moment he was born, he noticed that something was different about Milo. His wry smile and the way he moved his body reminded him of some of the seasoned knights he had seen pass through the village, and his eyes …

'They are so shallow, almost as if he has already anticipated my moves and set himself up accordingly, it's incredible!'.

The childlike glow that most newborns typically had behind their eyes, the sweet innocence that every parent yearned to see, was non-existent behind Milo's. He was fiercely intelligent, frighteningly talented and most of all, strangely independent for such a young child. At times, Sion found himself afraid of his own son.

Milo wiped away the sweat from his brows and let go of the sword, "Thank you for the lesson father".

From the small lessons, even though he already new his fathers moves, he was able to temper his own body some more by deliberately taking blows from such a heavy sword. Although at times his body became riddled with aches and pains as his father had no concept of holding back, he still didn't mind as it gave him an excuse to scamper away into the library.

"Oh, by the way Milo".

His attention was drawn back to his father, who looked furious but continued to speak.

"Your Uncle will be coming to see you shortly. We have prepared everything for you. You should go and clean up first".

After those words his father left and Milo was left pondering over his words.

'My uncle … I wonder what he's like. Judging from the look on fathers face, it must be something major and likely has to do with the Van Belched family'.

Within the countless lines of brothers and sisters, he had read more about them as he grew older. His mother was one of 4 sisters and she had 5 different elder brothers. Their family line quickly became a mess as the oldest brother took 12 mistresses and created multiple collateral lines for no reason.

Each collateral line had the potential to make it to the main house, where the 2nd oldest brother governed the family from. He didn't know his name, but from what he had read he appeared to be a fiercely loyal and loving man, not to mention innately powerful. Despite his status, multiple women had thrown themselves at him, but he remained with one woman his entire life.

'What a mess of a family, oldest is a womanizer and the head is an upstanding citizen. How do they expect to get back on track at this rate?'.

He walked through the house, narrowly avoiding Melissa and escaped into the bathroom. Not being bothered about his overall appearance, which now consisted of long white hair almost passable as a female, he lazily tied it behind his head and washed his face with a single splash of water.

Still thinking about his uncle, he changed from his sparring clothes into a rather boorish brown button up shirt and black trousers before heading back downstairs to wait for his arrival.

'What a pain in the ass, I forgot that nobility works this way. Sometimes I wish I was born into a small farming family instead'.