Silent Learning

The days began to blur together.

Since the bookshelf incident, the woman had been on high alert. She moved the books to a higher shelf, one that my small body couldn't hope to reach.

It was infuriating.

The more she tried to shield me from the world, the more I wanted to tear through whatever curtain she had placed around me. If she feared the knowledge in those books, then I needed to understand why.

I spent hours every day observing her. Her words, her actions—everything was a clue. I was like a detective trapped in a tiny, helpless body. She spoke less now, almost like she feared that I would pick up on something just by listening.

And maybe I could. After all, what else was there to do? My brain was still the one weapon I had left. Whenever she left me alone, I would mimic the sounds she made. They felt awkward and strange coming from my infant mouth, but it was progress.

A tiny step forward in a world where everything was shrouded in mystery.

One day, she caught me at it. Her eyes widened, and for a split second, I saw it—fear.

Not just fear of the world outside, but fear of me.

It was like she thought I was some kind of monster learning to speak.

She grabbed me and held me tight, muttering something over and over. It didn't matter that I didn't understand her words; the tone said it all. She was pleading. But for what?

Then came the day she carried me outside the room.

It was brief, almost accidental, as if she was in too much of a hurry to notice the way I stared at the world around us. For the first time, I saw beyond the confines of our dim room.

The courtyard was massive, a stone expanse filled with bodies in motion. Dozens of figures moved through drills, practicing techniques with speed and precision. Some flickered between shadows, their movements erratic but controlled. Others were focused on brute strength, striking dummies with such force that I could feel the ground tremble.

This was no ordinary training ground.

The atmosphere buzzed with energy, the kind that made your skin prickle. Where the hell am I? This isn't just martial arts. It's… something else. Some kind of mystic art?

I could see a hierarchy forming in the way they moved, in their positions. Those on the edges seemed weaker, their movements less refined. Closer to the center were those with more confidence, commanding attention with every strike.

It was clear that strength was everything here.

The stronger you were, the more respect you commanded.

I had always been an observer, analyzing people and situations to find my way through life. Here, the rules were different, but they were still rules. And rules could be learned. Rules could be exploited.

As I watched, the air in the courtyard suddenly grew heavy, almost suffocating. The figures halted their movements, their gazes snapping toward a single point. An old man walked in, his robes fluttering as if an unseen wind surrounded him.

He didn't even have to speak; his presence alone was enough to command the entire training ground. Then it happened. He simply stood there, and it felt like the air itself bowed to his will. An invisible force surged outward, crashing into the disciples.

Those on the edges crumbled first, dropping to their knees as if they had been hit by a tidal wave. Even the stronger ones closer to the center held out only a little longer before they, too, bowed. Their foreheads nearly touched the ground.

I was far from the epicenter, yet I felt it—a pressure on my chest, making it hard to breathe. My thoughts raced.

What the… is he suppressing them with just his presence? How is that even possible?

The old man finally spoke, his voice a low rumble that resonated through the courtyard. I couldn't understand the words, but the tone left no room for interpretation. This was a man whose word was law, who could bend others to his will with nothing more than a glance.

This was power, real power. Not the kind that came from titles or money.

This was the power to control others, to demand respect and submission without a single word of explanation.

My mind buzzed. In my previous life, I had been forced to live by others' rules. I had been told what to do, what to become.

But here, the rules were different. Power dictated everything. If you had enough of it, you could make your own rules.

The old man's gaze swept across the training ground, and for a moment, it felt like he looked right through me. My heart skipped a beat. Did he see me? Did he know I was watching?

The woman holding me quickly turned away, clutching me tightly against her chest as she hurried back inside. She was trembling, her movements frantic. Back in our dim room, she set me down and sat beside me, her hands shaking.

She muttered something again, her eyes wide with fear. I stared at her, my mind racing. She was terrified of what lay beyond these walls, but I couldn't understand why she wanted to keep me hidden from it. What was she trying to protect me from?

Back in the room, everything felt different. The encounter at the courtyard replayed in my mind over and over. The old man's mere presence had crushed the disciples, making them bow as if gravity itself had intensified at his command.

If this world has that kind of power, then I need to understand it. No… I need to master it.

The realization hit me hard. This world wasn't ruled by social norms or societal expectations. It was ruled by the strong, by those who could bend reality with their will.

If I wanted to break free from this room, from this life of fear and limitations, I needed to climb the ranks of this power structure. I needed to become someone who others would bow to, not out of respect, but because they had no choice.

The woman's fearful gaze fell on me again, but I barely noticed it this time. My focus was on the future, on the power I had glimpsed. I didn't know what kind of journey lay ahead, but I knew one thing for certain: I wouldn't remain powerless forever.

I glanced at the bookshelf. The symbols on the books no longer looked like mere scribbles. They were the keys to understanding this world. The power I had witnessed was just the beginning.

Somewhere in those texts, or in the teachings of the clan, lay the secrets that I needed.

I don't know where I've ended up… but if this world has people like that, then I need to become one of them.

This was no longer just about understanding my surroundings or deciphering some foreign language. It was about survival. And more than that—it was about thriving in a place where only the strong dictated the terms of existence.

For now, I was just a baby.