I woke to the low creak of floorboards and golden light spilling through the curtains. The house smelled like toasted bread and warm milk. Someone had lit the fireplace.
I rolled over, blinking crust from my lashes, half-expecting the glowing System panel to still hover above my crib.
It didn't. Not until I thought.
'Status'
The panel appeared silently. No "ding." No fanfare.
The System appeared precisely the same as yesterday. Still radiating the same intensity.
As I was lost in thought, my mum peeked her head over my cot. As my eyes met hers, a new panel appeared in my vision.
[Compatibility Index Updated]
[New Entry Logged: Mary Russo]
I froze.
My fingers curled reflexively against the edge of the blanket. I'd seen that tab last night. I hadn't touched it.
Now I did.
One new name pulsed gently in a list:
Mary Russo
Mum.
Oh no.
I opened the first entry hesitantly — Mary Russo — and nearly recoiled.
[Compatibility Index – Mary Russo]
[Emotional Compatibility: 88]
[Descendant Potential: 56]
[Temperament: 70]
[Health: 76]
[Optimal Role: Nurturer/Anchor]
[Compatibility Score: 35]
[Summary: Subject demonstrates high emotional synchronisation with the Host, consistent with established maternal bonds. However, reproductive viability is critically compromised due to two primary factors: 1) baseline non-magical genetic classification (Homo Sapiens), resulting in low magical heritability projections, and 2) direct first-degree kinship with the Host, indicating elevated risk of congenital abnormalities and generational instability. While temperament and health metrics fall within acceptable thresholds, these are insufficient to offset the genetic and magical liabilities. Subject's optimal function within the family structure is emotional stabilisation and support.]
I blinked. My own mother had been scored by this system. Graded. Indexed. Labelled as if she were part of some breeding ledger.
I let the panel fade with a thought. It didn't vanish in a flash—it just dimmed, receding from my vision.
Somewhere below, dishes clinked.
Muffled footsteps. Voices.
I pushed myself to the cot's edge and peered through the slats. My body wasn't ready for stairs yet—still awkward, wobbly, and soft-limbed. But I had enough balance to stand up with help from the cot and determination.
Mum stuck her head in, noticing me up.
"Oh, love—hold on," she said from the doorway, laughing softly as she rushed over. "You're wide awake today."
She lifted me gently, a familiar rhythm to how she cradled me and how her arms formed a secure arc around my back. She smelled like laundry soap and faint lilac.
Mum carried me downstairs, her voice humming softly—some half-remembered lullaby—as we descended into the kitchen's warmth. It smelled like eggs and something sweet in the oven, possibly cinnamon.
Nan stood near the table, a cup in hand, her shawl folded over one shoulder like a cape. Her brown hair was pinned up in the back, though a few curls had fallen loose.
[Compatibility Index Updated]
[New Entry Logged: Dorothy Smith]
I shut the Index tab entirely and exhaled through my nose. The System didn't care that these women were my family. It evaluated them all the same.
I ignored it—for now. That could wait. The idea of sorting through Nan's magical potential or reproductive viability made my stomach twist.
I opened the System Settings again, which were buried under Diagnostics. I found the alert structure for the Index and disabled all non-urgent logging.
[System: Passive observation mode enabled.]
[Non-urgent Compatibility Index notifications silenced.]
[Auditory cue volume adjusted: Low.]
"Morning, Mary," Nan said without turning. Her voice was clear and commanding, but gentle in the corners. "He awake?"
"Like a clock," Mum smiled. "Was up before the sun. Just lying there, blinking at the ceiling like he was trying to memorise it."
Nan turned, her gaze falling on me. She smiled in that quiet way—the kind of smile that didn't reach her mouth but lived in her eyes.
She stepped closer, her teacup still in hand, and brushed a loose curl behind her ear as she looked me over.
"Bright one, this one," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "You can always tell with the eyes."
Mum gently set me into the high chair by the table and tied the little cloth around my neck with practised ease. The warmth of the kitchen wrapped around me—cosy, soft, and safe. The hum of the fireplace, the scent of baked sugar, the faint ticking of the wall clock—it was all so normal.
So grounding.
And yet, a part of me pulsed with quiet tension beneath it all. The System wasn't gone. It was listening, watching, and evaluating.
The adjustments held. I could feel it—no more sharp pings or blinding panels in the middle of breakfast. Everything would appear only when I asked for it… or when it mattered.
Nan moved quietly toward the stove, setting her teacup aside. Her hands worked with natural rhythm, practised from years of rising early and feeding a house full of mouths. She didn't ask if I was hungry—she just knew.
She plated something warm and soft—eggs scrambled and fluffed with butter—and a small square of toast, the edges crisp but not burnt. There was no salt, no heavy seasoning, just care.
"Let's not have you starting the day on an empty belly," she said as she slid the plate before me and added a tiny spoon to the side. "Growing boys need their strength."
Her tone was soft but final. No fuss. No baby talk.
Mum smiled from the counter, drying her hands on a cloth. "He's starting to recognise the routine, I think."
"Mm," Nan nodded. "That, or he's just clever enough to pretend he doesn't."
They shared a quiet chuckle, and I let it happen—let the moment's warmth settle around me. I picked at the toast slowly, one crumb at a time.
Taking a quiet moment, I absent-mindedly ate as I explored the last three sections I had yet to.
'Status'
The System appeared silently again. I mentally scrolled down the panel until I reached...
[Talent]
Opening it, a list appeared.
[Transfiguration-Standard]
[Charms-Standard]
[Potions-Standard]
[Magical Botany-Standard]
[Magical Zoology-Standard]
[Divination Magic-Slow Learner]
[Ritual Magic-Standard]
[Magical Theory-Natural]
[Soul Magic-Natural]
[Light Magic-Standard]
[Dark Magic-Efficient]
[Bloodline Magic-Slow Learner]
[Spatial Magic-Basic Aptitude]
[Temporal Magic-Basic Aptitude]
[Enchantment-Standard]
[Alchemy-Basic Aptitude]
[Mind Magic-Natural]
[Elemental Magic-Standard]
[Symbolic Magic-Basic Aptitude]
[Aura Magic-Basic Aptitude]
I stared at the list for a while, letting each line sink in like unfamiliar names on a class roster. Talents. Not spells. Not grades. Just... potential, I assumed. Capacity. But even that was a guess.
Standard. Slow Learner. Natural. Efficient. Basic Aptitude.
The System wasn't elaborating.
I tried tapping on one—mentally, at least. Magical Theory – Natural. No tooltips. No footnotes. Just a faint pulse of acknowledgement before the text settled back into place. The System remained maddeningly silent.
Which meant I was on my own.
What did "Standard" mean? Average? Adaptable? Capable but unremarkable?
And Natural? Did that mean innate? Intuitive? Would I just know how to bend magic at will?
Then there were the outliers. Slow Learner – Divination Magic. Did that mean I'd never see visions in tea leaves? That my dreams would always stay dreams?
I looked closer at the talents, specifically their names.
One stood out the most to me: transfiguration.
That name immediately rang a bell in my head. The first thing I thought about was the Harry Potter series.
Could I be in pre-canon Harry Potter? 60 years?
I watched all the Harry Potter and Fantastic Beasts movies. Though I barely paid attention when watching the Fantastic Beasts series. I didn't play the game.
I read a lot of Harry Potter fanfic, though, so I know the series decently well.
'System... am I in the Harry Potter world?'
Moments passed in silence.
'Am I in the same world I was in my first life?'
Again, all I got in response was silence.
Well, I don't think there was Magical Theory or Aura Magic in Harry Potter, so this could be another magical world, or it could just be my old world, and I'm the only magically gifted person.
Nonetheless, more investigation is needed before I make any conclusions.
After calming my confusion, I moved on to the Affinities section.
[Affinities]
[Essence of Flux-Minor Pull]
[Essence of Intent-Minor Pull]
[Essence of Balance-Faint Trace]
[Essence of Growth-Faint Trace]
[Essence of Bond-Faint Trace]
[Essence of Sight-Rejection]
[Essence of Pattern-Unaware]
[Essence of Structure-Aligned]
[Essence of Self-Attuned]
[Essence of Mercy-Aligned]
[Essence of Will-Attuned]
[Essence of Inheritance-Rejection]
[Essence of Distance-Faint Trace]
[Essence of Moment-Unaware]
[Essence of Permanence-Faint Trace]
[Essence of Transcendence-Faint Trace]
[Essence of Thought-Linked]
[Essence of Force-Faint Trace]
[Essence of Meaning-Unaware]
[Essence of Presence-Unaware]
As my eyes scanned the Affinities, confusion resurfaced.
'System, what are these?'
[Your Affinities, Host.]
I stared at the panel, waiting for more.
Nothing.
Just the same line, repeated like it was both answer and refusal.
[Your Affinities, Host.]
It wasn't being coy—it was being literal. The System wasn't going to explain what these Affinities were, what they meant, or how to use them. At least, not now. Not yet.
I narrowed my eyes and looked back at the list, trying to make sense of it on my own.
Minor Pull, Faint Trace, Aligned, Rejection, Unaware, Attuned, Linked…
Essence of Flux. That sounded like change, motion—maybe transfiguration? Time?
Essence of Intent. That one felt obvious: willpower, maybe spellcasting focus.
Essence of Balance. Could that be harmony between magic and emotion? Or maybe it has something to do with maintaining magical equilibrium?
Some were easier to guess than others.
Essence of Sight – Rejection. Maybe that was why Divination was a Slow Learner talent. I had no "third eye." Perhaps I'd never have prophetic dreams or see-through veils.
But Structure – Aligned. That sounded useful. It matched with Magical Theory. Patterns. Logic. Probably spells construction or rituals. That meant I was built to understand how magic worked—not just to cast it, but maybe to build it.
I leaned back in my high chair, chewing slowly, letting the texture of egg and toast ground me as I tried not to spiral. Again.
The Affinities weren't answers—they were clues. Vague ones. But they were all I had.
Like everything else, I would have to learn piece by piece through trial and error, curiosity, and caution.
"Don't play with your food, darling," Mum said, brushing a thumb over the corner of my mouth where a smear of egg had landed.
I blinked up at her and gave a tiny, deliberate nod.
She grinned. "Well, aren't you serious this morning?"
More than she knew.
I glanced back at the panel once more to open up the last section I had not yet been able to explore... Tasks.
[Tasks]
[Genesis of Legacy]
I mentally pressed on the task, and the panel expanded.
[System Task: Genesis of Legacy]
[Issued: September 2, 1935]
[Deadline: September 2, 1945]
[Duration: 10 Years]
[Time Remaining: 9Y:11M:29D]
[Objective:]
[Live. Grow. Learn.]
[Every decision you make, every hardship endured, lesson learned, and milestone reached in the next decade will shape the foundational essence of a new Magical Bloodline.]
[Your story—your choices—will not only define you but will be etched into the spiritual and genetic legacy of all who come after. This task is not about success or failure. Right or wrong. It is about becoming.]
[The System will quietly observe, recording the unseen patterns that make you you.]
[Rewards:]
[Magical Bloodline Created.]
[Bonus Customisation Credits: For every stat point above the standard 11-year-old baseline, receive additional customisation options during bloodline creation.]
I stared at the text. It didn't feel like an assignment—it felt like a prophecy.
Ten years. A full decade to… live? Grow? What was the objective? It wasn't specific. It wasn't even actionable. There were no bullet points, no sub-tasks, and no success metrics. Just a ticking clock, slowly burning away.
I reread the phrase again:
"This task is not about success or failure. Right or wrong. It is about becoming."
Becoming what?
I looked down at my small hands, soft, clumsy fingers. I was a toddler, barely two days into my second life, yet this System had already pinned me with a cosmic responsibility.
A Bloodline. A House. A Family.
I hadn't even tried magic yet. Couldn't walk straight. And still, it expected me to leave behind a legacy.
No pressure.
I glanced toward the kitchen window, golden light pouring in across the worn wooden floorboards. Dust motes spun in lazy spirals through the beam as if the air hadn't quite woken up yet.
I wouldn't ask the System about the task, not yet. That wasn't some stubborn vow; I just knew instinctively that it wouldn't answer anything that wasn't urgent unless I gave it something concrete to work with.
Still, it hadn't stopped me from wondering. Was I supposed to train? Build stats? Socialise? Fall in love? Was this some strange RPG's version of coming of age?
And why a Bloodline?
Did it know something I didn't? That I wouldn't live to see twenty? That I'd become someone—or something—worth preserving?
My fingers tightened slightly around the spoon.
"Thinking hard about breakfast?" Nan's voice broke through my reverie as she sat across from me, cup in hand again.
I blinked and shook my head—barely perceptible, just enough to make her chuckle.
"He's always quiet in the mornings," Mum said from the sink, stacking clean dishes. "Like he's got secrets."
If only they knew.
I thought about that line: Live. Grow. Learn.
It sounded simple—childish, almost—but the weight behind it felt immense. If I failed this, what did I lose? The task didn't mention failure, but there was no comfort in that. Failure didn't have to be acknowledged to be real.
Was this some kind of test? A divine experiment? Or is it just an automated system following a protocol written by a being I'd never meet?
Ten years to become... what?
A legacy? A foundation?
The words "Magical Bloodline" echoed louder than they should have. That wasn't just about survival—it was about creation, influence, and maybe even power. If the System meant what it said, my very essence would be encoded and passed on—every success, failure, insight, and flaw embedded into something permanent.
The System didn't care that I was a child, not biologically, not physically. It saw me as a Host, a vessel for legacy, an architect of magical heredity. I was an embryo for something greater, something it expected me to build.
And it wasn't going to hold my hand.
I exhaled slowly, letting the screen fade once more with a thought. The timer numbers lingered in my mind like a heartbeat: 9 years, 11 months, 29 days…
That was all the time I had to leave a mark. To become something worth inheriting.
For now, that meant surviving. Understanding. Learning this world's rules, its magic, its people, and who I was within it.
My spoon dipped back into the eggs. Still warm. Still soft. Still real.
One bite at a time, I thought.
If I was going to build a legacy, I'd start with breakfast.