Bonus Chapter - Chapter 1.5 - Being a baby (Patreon)

Everyone idealizes being a child. Free, able to do what you want, no responsibilities – it’s great! Or so everyone remembers with rose-tinted glasses. 

I’m not sure how good being a child is, but I know there is a reason nobody idealizes being a baby. I’m unable to really do anything except flail about and eat, and even then, I’m terrible at both. My flailing is just as likely to hit myself as it’s to do anything – and there is nothing I can do even with the flailing – and half of what I eat comes back up. Which was insult to injury, given how I needed to steel myself just to eat in the first place. And that didn’t even start to touch on needing to use the bathroom – the first time I soiled myself I screamed bloody murder, and it didn’t get any better from there. If anything, it became worse, since I knew what was coming, I knew how unpleasant it would be, and I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. Bladder control. Turns out even as a baby with memories, I didn’t have it. I couldn’t even wait until a more convenient time, or a time I was more likely to get changed to go. Ug. Apart from the flailing and shitting myself, there wasn’t a thing I could do. Absolutely nothing. 

It was nice when mom picked me up, or when dad rocked me to sleep, but I had no agency, no ability to do something myself. At times, when I woke up in the middle of the night, and just stared at the ceiling for what felt – or very well might be - hours, I’d start to cry. Sometimes this caused mom or dad to wake up and comfort me. Sometimes it would not. I couldn’t understand a word anyone said – it seemed like I needed to start over learning the language from scratch. Like a baby. Which I was. 

There were positive aspects. First, I was human, and the “giants” were just my new perspective. I was a girl again, which was nice. It seemed like we were doing OK for ourselves – we had a cozy little home in what seemed to be a town of some sort, with dad working as some sort of guard. He would often leave the house wearing leather and a metal baton, with me being held by mom as she waved goodbye. I think I knew “bye bye” now! My first words! Mama and Papa are probably the same, since it’s more or less universal, so “bye” is my first real word! On words though, it seems like my vocal cords can do nothing but gurgle happily. No amazing talking baby for me. 

Our home had a bedroom, a living room, and a small kitchen, and seemed to be made out of stone. The kitchen was really tiny, and seemed to be a small clay oven with a pantry. The living room had a table, some sort of chair-sofa hybrid that my parents leaned on. There was no bathroom, and that made me dreadfully nervous. I saw no electricity or running water, but we did seem to have heat. That, or we were somewhere warm. Or both. Although having heat in a warm location seemed strange.

Enough about the house! The System! Strange floating words in front of me, somehow in English. Nothing else seemed to be English. Or any language I recognized. Although I had a bunch of languages deemed “useless” and ripped out. So it could be one of those. Or not. They were, after all, “useless”. At least I knew my name from it, and I could work off of that:

[Name: Elaine]

[Race: Human]

[Age: 0]

[Class 1: Locked]

[Class 2: Locked]

[Class 3: Locked]

Stats

  [Free Stats: 0]

[Strength: 2]

 [Dexterity: 3]

[Vitality: 2]

[Speed: 2]

[Mana: 2]

[Mana Regeneration: 2]

[Magic Power: 2]

[Magic Control: 2]

[General Skills: Locked]

[Time remaining on locks: 68,820:43:16]

I had also gotten a notification soon after I was born:

[*Ding!* Due to the great efforts of [Grand Hero] Herculix, you get a +1 bonus to all stats! You also get a passive 2% increase to all exp gain!]

That was a nice surprise – someone (Ok, Herculix by all accounts) had clearly done something incredible, and I was immediately reaping the rewards. However, I felt somewhat insulted by how low all of my stats were, and weeks of flailing about had only gotten me one message.

[*Ding!* You have gained +1 Dexterity]

Well, through my own efforts I could raise my stats. Probably. Time seemed to be the same, in terms of hours and minutes and seconds, as I slowly watched the [Locked] aspect to my classes tick down. I was never a great shake at math, and I had gotten quite a bit of it ripped out of my head, but with nothing else to do I worked it out – I should unlock right around the time I was 8 years old, assuming a year was the same length of time. And no rounding errors. Tick. Tock. 

[*Ding!* Due to being currently classified as a baby of your race, classes are currently locked]

Insult added to injury. Although I suppose if your average baby could level up, that would imply that they would have stats to allocate. And a baby casting fireball would cause all sorts of problems. Or having super-strength. So, it made sense. But I wasn’t happy about it. Tick. Tok. 

I was delighted to see four whole stats dedicated to magic! Mana, Mana Regeneration, Magic Power, and Magic Control! Just as many stats to magic as there was to physical stats! I wanted to be a mage. I wanted to be a mage so badly it hurt. I spent time day dreaming of Elaine, the mighty Archmage – or given the Herculix notification, [Archmage], flying through the sky and casting fireballs. Fireball! I spent more time dreaming about the vast libraries a mage must have, where I could read endless tomes, conjuring up a drink whenever. I wanted it so badly I could taste it. There had to be magic schools or something like that here. I had to wait though. 68,820:42:44 left to go. Tick. Tok. 

My low magic stats gave me pause. I didn’t seem to be able to do any magic currently, and my stats were the bare minimum it seemed. I spent nearly as much time terrified that I would try to be a mage, only to get told I was a squib or a muggle or whatever they were called here instead, unable to cast anything, doomed to a life of mediocrity. I had to wait to find out though. I had to wait a long time. Tick. Tok.

Most of these thoughts vanished from my head as I watched mom one morning seem to cast a spell – just a quick flash of darkness from her hand, and the dinner bowls were clean. If a seeming housewife in an average-looking house was casting magic, it couldn’t be all that rare. Right? Right….?

Mom played with me a good amount, which I loved! Dad played with me now and then, but mostly was a bit distant even when he was around. He did do the “throw me higher and catch me” game, which was as exhilarating as it was terrifying. Mom yelled at him a bunch when she caught him playing that with me, which was a bit of a bummer.

I will eventually figure out mom and dad’s name. This language thing was hard. That magic thing though? I couldn’t wait. I drooled in anticipation of being able to finally use magic. That is what I was telling myself anyways. I couldn’t control this drooling after all. Damn this baby thing!

68,820 hours to go, 68,820 hours. Take one down, pass it around, 68,819 hours to go….