A/N[1]
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Eventually, Anant became the center of quiet affection within the Vatsya household.
Servants adored him.
Maids competed to take care of him.
Even the usually strict members of the family showed him a softer side.
After all— He was still just a child.
A child who, in their eyes, had yet to reach the age where expectations would begin to weigh heavily upon his shoulders.
At this stage of his life, no one expected him to think about things like the Family Legacy Challenges— the trials that would eventually determine who among the Duke's children was worthy of inheriting the Duchy of Vatsya.
Those matters belonged to the future.
A distant one.
And so— He was allowed to be spoiled.
But only on the surface. Inside, nothing had changed.
By the time Anant turned three years old, he had already observed enough of this world to understand one of its subtle rules.
Children here— Spoke late.
Even the talented ones only began speaking properly around the age of three.
Those less gifted took even longer.
'Interesting…'
He compared it instinctively with his past lives.
In some worlds, children spoke within months.
In one life—
He had spoken fluently at just five months old.
'Ridiculous standards…'
He recalled it clearly.
As a prince, he had broken his own record by speaking at one month.
Before that his earliest had been four months.
And in another life, as a so-called "hero," he had begun speaking at around one year and a few months.
'Compared to those… this world is slow.'
But Anant had no intention of standing out.
'There's no benefit in being labeled a prodigy too early.'
So he waited. Deliberately. Patiently.
Until he crossed the age of three.
Only then— Did he begin to speak.
And when he did—
It was natural.
Perfectly timed.
Perfectly ordinary.
An act.
One he had mastered over countless lives.
On that very year, something else changed.
Anant was granted access to a place few were allowed to even approach.
The Babasaheb Secret Library.
A vast, silent archive hidden deep within the estate.
A place filled with knowledge, records, techniques, and secrets accumulated over generations.
But more than that— It was dangerous.
Not in the sense of traps or weapons—
But in what it represented.
'A non-living nuclear button to death…'
That was how Anant described it in his mind.
Knowledge. Power. Authority.
All stored in one place.
And access to it was strictly limited.
Only the Duke and his direct descendants were allowed inside.
Even its caretakers were none other than the Duke himself, along with his sons and daughters.
No outsiders.
No exceptions.
And now— Anant had been included.
Though, for now, his responsibility was limited.
He was assigned to manage only the lower blocks of the library.
Basic sections.
Introductory materials.
Foundational texts.
'Appropriate… work is practically easy for now'
It matched his current identity.
A three-year-old child.
It was his first day.
The air inside the library was cool and still.
Rows upon rows of books stretched endlessly, their spines marked with symbols, titles, and classifications.
Dust did not exist here.
Everything was maintained with almost unnatural precision.
Anant walked slowly, observing.
Memorizing.
Then, he reached a small study corner.
A chair and table—
Specially crafted for his size.
He climbed onto the chair and sat down.
Calmly.
Silently.
"Alright, let's begin your study session." A cheerful voice broke the silence.
Anant turned his head.
Standing before him was a girl with bright eyes and an energetic presence.
His sister.
Babasaheb Natsu Vatsya.
The daughter of the Duke's fourth wife, Babasaheb Shinna Vatsya.
She was four years older than him.
At seven years old, she already carried herself with a mix of enthusiasm and responsibility.
Anant had, in total, four brothers and two sisters from the Duke's first four wives.
And including him— The Duke now had five sons.
A large family.
A complicated one.
"Okie dokie!" Anant replied brightly.
His voice was filled with childish excitement.
His expression lively.
A perfect performance.
If there were an industry for acting across worlds, He would have stood at its pinnacle.
Natsu smiled, clearly pleased.
She picked up a book and brought it over.
"This one is important," she said.
The book was thick, bound in dark leather, with golden lettering etched across its cover.
It contained— The history of the Vatsya Duchy.
Natsu flipped through the pages, scanning quickly.
Meanwhile—
Anant watched quietly.
Though, in truth—
He already understood the language.
Perfectly.
Reading. Writing. Speaking.
All were mastered.
But of course— No one else knew that.
Natsu stopped at a page.
"There!" she said, pointing.
On the page was a circle.
Complex. Intricate.
Filled with symbols and patterns.
"Look at this," Natsu explained. "It's called the Fundamental Ruin Circle."
Her finger traced the edge of the diagram.
"It teaches spoken language within a few hours— even the hardest words."
Anant nodded.
Silently.
He didn't ask questions. Didn't interrupt.
Because she had already explained everything earlier.
Instead— He waited.
Natsu reached for a prepared white sheet of paper.
"This is for you," she said, handing it over.
Anant took it carefully.
Then, Without hesitation, He began drawing the circle.
Perfectly. Every curve. Every line. Every symbol.
Fourteen formulas surrounded the circle, each placed with precise alignment.
His small hands moved steadily.
Confidently.
Not like a beginner.
But like someone who had done this before.
Many times.
When he finished, he handed the paper back to Natsu.
She nodded approvingly.
Then, she took out a small magical tool. A faint glow gathered at its tip. She directed it toward the paper.
Mana flowed into it. The paper trembled slightly—
Then—
It began to burn.
Not with ordinary flames—
But with a controlled, soft light.
The edges curled inward. The surface dissolved. Until— Only the circle remained.
Floating.
Glowing faintly.
Natsu raised her hand.
With a gentle motion— She sent the glowing formula toward Anant.
It moved through the air— And entered his forehead.
Immediately— Anant closed his eyes.
Inside his consciousness— He expected something familiar.
Letters. Words. Grammar structures.
But instead, There was— An egg.
A large egg. Almost half his size.
Floating in an empty space.
"…?"
For the first time in a long while—
Anant was genuinely surprised.
'…What?'
This was not supposed to happen.
Everyone—
Literally everyone—
Had described what he would see.
Symbols.
Knowledge streams.
Light patterns.
Not—
An egg.
'What kind of language joke is this…?'
It irritated him slightly.
This was supposed to be simple.
Routine.
Predictable.
Yet— Here he was. Staring at a damn egg.
'Oh... Great…'
He had no choice. So he moved closer.
Step by step—
Within his own consciousness.
Then— He reached out. And touched it.
The moment his fingers made contact—
The egg glowed.
Softly.
Then—
It cracked.
Not physically—
But symbolically.
From within—
Letters began to emerge. Then numbers.
Then formulas.
They flowed out— Like a stream.
Surrounding him. Entering him.
This— Was the learning process.
As expected— it took time. Three hours and twenty-one minutes.
Every word, every structure every rule— Was absorbed.
Perfectly.
And just as he finished, the egg Moved.
It floated toward him.
Faster.
Then, it entered his forehead.
Anant's eyes snapped open.
He was back— In the library.
Seated on the small chair.
Across from him—
Natsu watched with anticipation.
Waiting.
Unaware— That something completely unexpected— Had just taken place.
[1] Readers should know that I intentionally had not add some important tags.