Two Years Old

Elijah and his sister were now two years old, though their physical and mental development was definitely ahead of the curve, closer to sharp three- or four-year-olds.

Elijah was certain it had something to do with the mana he had siphoned in the womb. The energy had accelerated their growth, sharpened their minds, refined their coordination. Esther was his gauge—proof that it wasn't just his imagination.

Not that Esther was a great benchmark—she was already showing all the signs of becoming a genuine prodigy. Elijah recognized the signs immediately from his past life: rapid speech development, effortless comprehension of advanced concepts, and coordination that was unusually precise for her age.

Back then, in the chaos and violence of the cold era, there hadn't been much opportunity to see such talents unfold. Everything had been about survival, day-to-day, with no luxury of time to notice genius developing.

At the moment, Elijah watched Esther play a complex, three-dimensional chess-like game against Abel, internally deadpanning as his sister repeatedly questioned Abel with relentless curiosity.

"Uncle Abel, what happens if I move here? Or maybe there?" Her sweet voice contrasted sharply with the complexity of the strategy she effortlessly grasped.

Abel was always stimulating and training them with these strategic games, and Esther took to it as if it was as natural as breathing. Elijah saw Abel's discreet yet curious glances—the kind that said clearly, these kids aren't normal, in the best possible way.

Elijah found himself satisfied with their isolated life drifting through space with Abel. They had started calling him Uncle Abel, and when Elijah once asked why they lived so isolated, Abel simply responded that this was their home now. Elijah was pretty sure it was Abel's way of keeping them safely hidden from their grandmother.

Watching Esther continue to dismantle Abel's careful moves, Elijah groaned inwardly. He'd always struggled against Chad in strategic games back in his first life. Now, he realized he'd have to start seriously studying strategy, or Esther would embarrass him at every turn.

He had better genetics this time around, and the mana he'd siphoned in the womb clearly helped both him and Esther advance faster than normal, but Elijah was becoming painfully aware that his sister would always be just a little ahead.

His inner grumbling was interrupted when Esther called out to him, her cheerful voice cutting through his thoughts.

"Elijah? Big brother? Are you even listening?"

Elijah blinked and smiled slightly as he looked at his sister.

"Sorry, I was thinking," he said softly.

Esther smiled back, her expression brightening the whole room. She had red hair like him, paired with brilliant blue eyes—but while Elijah knew he was going to grow into a charming appearance, Esther was already shaping up to be a work of art. Their mother had been beautiful, but Esther was destined to become an exquisite beauty, he thought fondly.

Every time Elijah looked in the mirror lately, he considered getting a mask. He knew he'd grow up to be a lady-killer, and honestly, he wasn't looking forward to that kind of attention. In his last life, blending in had always been a plus. Now? He was shaping up to look like a Ken doll on anime steroids, dammit!

Esther called him "big brother," not just because he was born first, but because he quietly helped her when Abel wasn't watching. He encouraged her when she took her first steps, patiently answered her endless questions, and gave subtle suggestions whenever she struggled.

He never outright told her how to do something—just gentle nudges.

But have you considered doing it this way?

Truthfully, she was smart enough that she didn't really need direct instruction. Abel had that covered. Elijah just wanted to make things a little easier for her.

"It's okay, big brother," Esther said cheerfully. "I want to do the grappling game!"

Elijah grinned, pushing back the red hair that kept falling into his eyes—he really needed a haircut.

"Sure," he said playfully, "and this time, I won't use my right hand."

Abel gave Elijah an odd look, but Elijah ignored it. The joke was entirely for himself anyway, considering he was missing his right hand below the elbow.

Esther pouted slightly, crossing her arms in mock annoyance. "Big brother, you don't have a right hand!"

"Oh yeah," Elijah said with exaggerated surprise. "I forgot."

Every time he looked at his missing hand, Elijah struggled not to imagine Victor's bleached skull serving as his drinking mug. He really needed to stop picturing that.

One time, Abel had caught him staring at the stump, recalling Victor—the bastard who'd cut off his hand when he was still a baby. Elijah was pretty sure he'd accidentally released the tiniest, faintest hint of killing intent. Oops.

Abel had stared at him for the longest time after that—Elijah called it the "who-the-hell-is-this-kid" look.

The very same one Abel was giving him now, as Elijah casually joked about his missing hand.

They went to the training room, and as they walked, Elijah was already brainstorming ways to make their training more intense.

Abel remained pretty reserved when it came to their physical exercises—after all, they were technically only two. Instead, he relied heavily on "games" that Elijah knew were secretly meant to train their minds and bodies.

But Elijah wanted more. Needed more.

Currently, Abel allowed them only an hour of "Net" time each day. Net was basically TV, internet, and web store all rolled into one. Recently, Elijah had stumbled onto a modern-day equivalent of YouTube—ironically translated from Universal to English simply as "U."

From the limited information he was able to access, Elijah deduced they were definitely still within human territory—likely still Earth's territory—but where exactly, he had no idea. Abel frustratingly revealed very little about the ship's operation, much to Elijah's disappointment.

They finally arrived at the ship's modest gym. Aside from essential ship functions, the craft seemed entirely devoted to living quarters and training areas.

This had clearly been his mother's intention: keep her children safely in space, hidden and training. The thought of her serving in the Dread Corps pissed Elijah off.

Once, he had "accidentally" punched random words into the Net interface, and apparently "Dread Corps" referred to a well-funded, elite death battalion. They specialized in missions considered suicidal by most—dangerous, high-risk tasks constantly fighting other powerful organizations and creatures coming from portals. That was all he'd managed to glean before Abel walked in and swiftly cleared the interface.

Fortunately, Esther had been holding the remote at the time. Thanks to the autocorrect function and Elijah's deliberate addition of other nonsensical entries, Abel had written the incident off as an innocent mistake.

Still, afterward, the ship's AI started closely monitoring and assisting their Net use, something Elijah found deeply annoying. To him, it felt like a restriction.

Elijah and Esther now stood across from each other on the training mats, waiting patiently for Abel's instructions on their grappling game.