I'm three years old now.
I worked hard for the first year—hard—just to reclaim basic control over my own body.
You ever have someone wipe your ass, bathe you, and dress you like a ragdoll every day?
Mortifying.
So I swore I'd win back my independence.
I trained constantly.
Lifting my head. Rolling over. Sitting up. Standing. Holding my legs in the air just to build core strength.
Tiny reps. Baby sweat. Daily effort.
After that? I played.
Yeah—played.
It's weird, honestly. Sometimes I just felt… like a kid. it's because my body is a kid. And y'know what? Who cares.
I've always liked swings and slides anyway.
The orphanage has a surprisingly sweet playground setup—swings, a plastic slide, a sandbox, and even a little vegetable garden. The Matrons use it to teach kids about gardening and cut down on food costs.
It's thanks to that garden that I was able to upgrade my inner world's soil level by 1—after analyzing the compost and stealing a bit of the rich earth to replicate inside.
I even got 32 new plant seeds out of the deal.
Though… each one only gave me 1 exp.
Still. Progress.
The real victory, though?
Meditation.
After seven brutal months of failure—trying every method under the sun—something finally clicked.
I tried it all.
Mantras. Chants. Incense. Sensory deprivation. Fasting.
Mostly I just fell asleep.
Let's just say… I'm not naturally talented at meditation.
But I got there.
And once I did, I was finally able to train Occlumency.
Which meant: reliving my life. Over. And over. Again.
And yes, that included dying. Repeatedly.
Fun times.
But the results were worth it. I made real progress.
My mindscape now looks like a massive library—shelves upon shelves of books, lined up in perfect, academic order.
...But it's a lie.
That library? A facade.
Tucked away in the back, hidden behind a heavy bookshelf, is a computer terminal.
That's where my real memories are stored. Clean. Organized. Encrypted.
The library itself? Filled with fake memories—random scenes pulled from anime, movies, light novels, and books. Constructed chaos.
Whoever tries to dive into my mind is going to come out with Naruto backstories, Marvel plotlines, and at least one incredibly convincing memory of a demon king high school transfer student.
They won't know what hit them.
As for training my magic?
Shockingly easy.
All I had to do was make contact with my magic core.
The moment I did, it felt like the universe opened up and said, "Go on, champ. Everything's yours."
I'm serious—it was euphoric.
Like the world itself was at my fingertips, just waiting for my command.
I could have anything.
Do anything.
...Which is why I shut that shit down immediately.
Because no matter how amazing it felt, I'm still just a one-year-old with a soft skull and zero spellcasting experience. Sure, I'd read a truckload of magic theory books… but reading is not the same as casting.
The only magic I'd trained up to this point was Occlumency. And that's all internal.
The book on magic training laid it out pretty clearly:
Magic is everywhere—in the air, in the earth, even in living things.
Witches and wizards have magic cores, which act like muscles. Currently people of this world don't have this knowledge.You can train them through use, expand them by absorbing ambient magic, and grow stronger over time.
So yeah—basically cultivation.
No stages or levels in the official theory, though.
So, being the mature and responsible reincarnated genius that I am, I made some.
Please allow me to present:
My completely serious, deeply profound, totally legitimate Magic Core Cultivation Levels, created and named entirely by me, an adult baby demigod.
✨ Kuren Soul's Magic Core Levels™ ✨
Sand Grain
Sesame Seed
Green Pea
Small Grape
Big Grape
Ping Pong Ball
Orange
Grapefruit
Cantaloupe
Watermelon
Beach Ball
Car
Semi-Truck
House
Mansion
Skyscraper
Mountain
Mount Everest
Moon
Earth
Jupiter
Sun
Solar System
Galaxy
Universe
Multiverse
Omniverse
Currently?
After 2 years I'm at the profound Small Grape stage. After starting at the sand grain stage.
Everything beyond that is, uh… purely theoretical.
But someday?
Beach Ball.
I can feel it.
Also, over the last two years of training magic, I've managed to learn three spells:
Lumos – lights up the dark, and makes me feel like a smug human flashlight.
Wingardium Leviosa – the spell of choice when you want to levitate things and show off.
Alohomora – for unlocking doors and—let's be honest—committing magical theft.
Not bad, considering I'm living in a muggle orphanage.
That's right. No witches, no wizards, no accidental magic flaring up from other kids. Just me, pretending to be normal while hiding literal spellcasting behind sandbox towers and at nap time.
Now, before you ask:
No. I didn't buy a wand.
I'm training wandless magic.
Why?
Because I want to master the hard stuff first. If I can cast without a focus, then when I do use one, I'll be a monster. Besides, I'm trying to keep a low profile. Showing up with a wand in a place full of non-magical adults would raise some eyebrows—or land me in a padded room.
That said… I did buy a wand.
Not for me.
For Allie.
Custom-carved from phoenix-blood ashwood with a unicorn hair core—14 inches, elegant grip, lightly enchanted with a resonance sync to her system thread. It's beautiful. And deadly.
"Allie deserves only the best," I'd said when I bought it. And I meant it.
Now—on to my escape plan.
Look, the orphanage isn't awful. The food's fine. The beds are… beds. The Matrons are strict but not evil.
But it's a dead end.
I've got goals. Destiny. A whole omniversal system.
I can't be stuck here waiting for someone to adopt me like a pet goldfish.
So I made a plan.
Step one: Steal my identification documents—birth registration, muggle paperwork, everything they keep tucked away in the Head Matron's office.
And let me tell you…
That office? It's basically Fort Knox for boring government documents.
But I pulled it off.
Crawled in during nap hour.
Distracted a staff member with a mysteriously floating broom.
Used Alohomora like a tiny wizarding cat burglar. To get into the Head Matron's office. And again to unlock the filing cabinet.
And slipped the whole file into my inventory the moment I touched it.
Now all my identity papers, and records are safely stored in a dimension that even the Ministry can't sniff.
Now it was time for the Great Escape.
Everything was prepared. My supplies were packed. My documents were safely tucked away in my inventory. Allie was synced—ready to support.
I don't know exactly what she synced with, but whatever.
And so, in the dead of night, under a moonlit sky, I Apparated outside the orphanage grounds with a soft, whispering pop.
No one heard.
No one saw.
I walked confidently to the tall, wrought-iron fence surrounding the property, looked up at it like it was no challenge at all…
And Apparated again—to the other side.
Then I just walked away.
As the saying goes:
Cool guys don't look at explosions.
Never look back when you do something awesome.
…
Okay. Fine.
That's not what happened.
I don't know how to Apparate.
I'm three.
I can barely reach doorknobs.
What really happened was:
I climbed out the window, dropped onto a garbage bin, made the most awkward roll of my life, and then climbed over the fence with the sheer determination of a man-child fueled by spite and bedtime rebellion.
I only know three spells:
Lumos, Wingardium Leviosa, and Alohomora.
So yeah—no teleportation powers.
Yet.
Only once I was on the other side did I remember...
I could've just used Alohomora to unlock the gate.
But hey...
I still didn't look back.
Because cool guys don't face their stupidity about forgetting the whole gate thing.