Walking The Path of Progress

Progress is a deliberate journey—one that unfolds at its own pace for everyone.

It's a gradual development, where each step builds upon the last. Thought, understanding, and action evolve with time. As the days pass, knowledge expands, decisions grow clearer, and skills become sharper.

Yet, progress was never straight. It unfolds in three stages—curiosity, learning, and problem-solving. Each stage is important in moving forward, providing the foundation necessary for the next, and ensuring continuous growth.

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Curiosity is the first stage toward progress.

The more I observed, the more questions materialized. Every entity, every interaction, every fleeting moment—it all carried meaning, waiting to be cracked. And as my sharp mind easily grasped new information, the world around me became a puzzle begging to be solved.

By the time I turned one, I had thoroughly explored my home. Beyond my father's study and my mother's garden, I discovered several other rooms—a vast kitchen lined with countless utensils, a dining space centered around a long, polished table, and a bathroom featuring a large bathtub positioned in the center.

But one room stood out above the rest—the library.

Compared to my father's study, this room housed far more books. Towering shelves lined the walls, each filled with neatly arranged tomes varying in length and width. A faint yet distinct scent of aged parchments lingered in the air, mixing with the subtle aroma of polished wood.

The sheer quantity of knowledge stored within these walls was almost overwhelming.

Naturally, I was drawn to it.

However, the only concern was my height. At my current age, I could merely reach the lowest shelves, leaving the majority of books frustratingly out of my grasp. But that was just a minor obstacle—one I was determined to overcome.

My first attempt involved dragging a chair from the dining hall, an endeavor that proved more difficult than expected. My small frame still lacked the strength to pull it effectively yet after multiple failed efforts, I managed to move it due to my unique skill, Achiever.

Once the chair was positioned, I grabbed a stool to help me lift myself onto the platform so I could access the second shelf.

This is perfect.

Climbing onto it, I pulled out a book at random and flipped it open, only to be met with broad, unfamiliar text from top to bottom.

Hmm, this might be more difficult than expected... Anyway.

My eyes scrutinized the pages, analyzing the structure of the language. Thanks to my unique skill, High Intelligence, comprehension came naturally. Within a few moments, I translated the meaning behind the words, their context falling into place as if I had always known them.

And the first subject I stumbled upon? Magic.

As the book depicts, magic was built upon by an invisible yet fundamental particle known as magicules. The minds of living beings heavily influence them and it can take on many various properties depending on the situation.

It seems that magicules are akin to atoms—small yet interactive.

Fascinating.

I turned the page, eager to read more, when a shadow loomed over me.

"Well, well, what do we have here? A toddler?"

I heard my father's voice, carrying a mix of amusement and disbelief. Looking back, I saw him standing behind me with his arms crossed. He glanced at the book in my hands before tilting his head slightly.

"Magic theory, at your age? You're truly something else, Herta."

I merely stared at him with a quiet determined expression. Damn right, I am.

"Hahaha..."

He chuckled lightly before kneeling beside me, flipping through the book himself.

"Since you're already interested, how about I teach you the basics first?"

I gave a small nod, hiding my excitement behind an air of indifference. Let's do this!

"Then come with me."

Taking my hand, he led me out of the library and into his study, where my education in magic and other matters would begin.

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The next stage is learning—the bridge between curiosity and mastery.

The more I studied, the more I realized that knowledge was vast and ever-expanding. Every new concept was built upon the last, forming connections that deepened my understanding. 

Under my father's guidance, my education officially began.

Initially, he started with language.

Even though I had already deciphered the book I read earlier, my father insisted on teaching me the fundamental principles of reading, writing, and speech. It was a rather long process, covering grammar, semantics, syntax, and pronunciation. 

For me, these were merely common knowledge. But to him, these were the first steps toward learning for his daughter. So, I guess I'll play along.

As weeks passed in the study, I watched as my father showed a string of basic words written on a blackboard. He carefully enunciated each one, and I repeated them unhurriedly, feigning effort to match his expectations.

"Now Herta, repeat after me. I love science."

"I... love... science..."

His gaze lingered on me, a blend of amusement and curiosity in his expression.

"You're picking this up surprisingly fast," he mused, rubbing his chin.

I merely blinked at him. Of course, I was. Thanks to High Intelligence, it was too easy.

"Oh my, what's this?"

A familiar voice interjected from the doorway. I turned to see my mother standing nearby, her lips curled in a soft, wise smile as she observed our lecture. Gliding into the study, she folded her arms and glimpsed at the blackboard.

"Language lessons already? She's merely a year old and a half."

"Hahaha," Father chuckled. "You had told me that we shouldn't be surprised at this point, so I did what I think was necessary for our daughter's growth."

Mother sighed, shaking her head slightly in exasperation. "At this rate, she might start writing complicated equations by the time she turns three."

I could, but that would raise too many questions.

"Well, if that's the case," Father smiled before shifting his gaze back to me, "let's move on to your handwriting then."

He placed a small quill in my hand and gently guided my fingers over a piece of parchment, demonstrating the strokes with practiced ease. The ink flowed onto the paper in intentional, graceful letters. I mimicked his instructions, tracing the characters carefully.

"Interesting..." Father's brow raised slightly. "Your writing was impeccable. Even I took some time to develop such control when I was around your age." 

I shrugged inwardly. It was simply a matter of control and coordination—nothing difficult.

"Hmm..." Mother hummed thoughtfully. "I know it's too early to propose this, but shouldn't we teach her to count? She might also have a knack for numbers if she's quick with language." 

"You know, I was about to say the same thing," Father concurred, nodding positively.

And so, my lessons continued, shifting toward more challenging subjects.

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And lastly, there's problem-solving—the process of turning insight into solutions.

The more problems I faced, the clearer it became that mastery alone wasn't enough. Without any sort of application, it wasn't significant. Therefore, I could claim to have learned anything by solving puzzles and equations.

As months stretched into an entire year, my education extended beyond language. My father introduced me to the mathematics of this world.

At first glance, the numerals were rather familiar, though the operational symbols bore slight variations from those I had known before. Their functions remained essentially the same, yet certain equations followed unique principles—most likely due to the influence of magic. 

Naturally, this was no surprise. 

A world interwoven with sorcery would inevitably have laws different from my previous life.

Sitting quietly in the study, I listened as my father explained the basics of arithmetic, his tone of voice attentive and patient.

"Mathematics is the foundation of logic," he began, coolly adjusting his glasses. "It serves as the foundation that governs the natural world, from the patterns in the stars to the symmetry of magic circles."

What an interesting perspective. I'll give him that.

"Let's start with something simple, Herta."

Turning to the blackboard, he chalked a straightforward equation on it.

"What is six multiplied by four?"

Barely sparing a glance, I answered him.

"Twenty-four."

And then, there's a pause.

I turned my gaze upward, meeting my father's unreadable expression. His lips twitched as if caught between amusement and apprehension. 

"You didn't even hesitate," he noted. "I expected you would at least count with your fingers."

I tilted my head, feigning innocence.

"Alright, how about this?" he turned back to the blackboard, writing a slightly more complex equation involving double digits and multiple operations.

"What's twenty-four times ten plus twenty minus fifteen?"

"Two hundred forty-five."

My answer came faster than he could lower the chalk.

His hand paused mid-air before he slowly turned back to me, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"H-Herta, do you understand what you're saying, or are you merely guessing?"

As I heard his flustered response, a smirk tugged at the edge of my lips.

Was this a test? If so, it was a rather shallow one.

I grabbed the quill on the table, dipped it into the inkpot, and, with practiced strokes, rewrote the equation, breaking it down step by step before circling the correct answer.

His brows furrowed as he scanned the parchment. "I see..."

"Fufufu~" 

Suddenly, a playful chuckle echoed from the doorway. My father and I turned to see Marlene, my caretaker, standing from the side, a composed smile playing on her lips.

"Very magnificent, Milord," she praised, stepping further into the room. "You've trained Lady Herta so well that she's exceeding your expectations."

"It wasn't a big deal," Father dismissed modestly, though the proud glint in his eyes betrayed his words. "I did what I could to educate my daughter."

"Yet your efforts are paying off remarkably well, Milord," she countered with a knowing voice before reaching into her pocket. "And speaking of which, you have a letter."

Father accepted the envelope, noting the seal pressed into the wax—a symbol unfamiliar to me. His expression turned thoughtful as he broke the seal and quietly read the contents.

However, I noticed how his fingers subtly tightened on the paper, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing word.

"Is something wrong, Milord?" Marlene inquired softly.

He exhaled, folding the letter neatly and slipping it into his pocket.

"No, nothing to worry about," he assured her, though the tension in his voice and expression said otherwise. "Just an unexpected request... from the king."

A request from a king? That didn't sound trivial.

"Marlene," he continued, "please escort Herta to the garden for a while. I need some time to prepare a response."

"Understood, Milord," Marlene complied, stepping to my side, her warm fingers curling gently as she grabbed my hand.

While she ushered me out, I looked back to see my father wiping the board clean. Instead of writing more equations, he began sketching a series of interlocking symbols—ones that I had glimpsed in magic books.

Whatever was in that letter, it was something more than just a simple request.