Tiime in the House of Draker moved differently. For the servants and the twenty-three wives of the Patriarch, the days were filled with the clashing of steel and the humming of ancient incantations. For Leo, the days were spent in a silk-lined cradle, appearing to be the most "chill" infant in the history of the bloodline.
But inside that tiny, chubby body, a storm was brewing.
Leo knew his infant form was a biological cheat code. His meridians were soft and flexible, and his fontanelle—the "soft spot" on a baby's head—acted like a natural satellite dish for the ambient mana of the Draker estate.
While other babies were busy crying for milk, Leo was performing **The Great Goon-Circulation**. He used the same terrifying mental focus he had developed in his past life to pull mana from the air, "edging" the energy at the tips of his fingers before pulling it deep into his marrow.
By the time he was three, his bone density was like iron, and his "Vitality" was so thick that flowers in the nursery grew three times their normal size just by being near him.
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### The Patriarch's Inspection
One afternoon, the heavy oak doors swung open. **Lord Alaric Draker** entered, his presence alone causing the torches to flicker with blue flames. He was a man who had mastered every weapon and commanded an army of the dead, yet he looked at his youngest son with genuine curiosity.
Behind him walked **Lady Elena**, his third wife. She was radiant, her eyes glowing with the wisdom of a High Mage.
"He is so quiet, Alaric," Elena whispered, looking at Leo. Leo was currently lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that didn't belong to a toddler. "He hasn't spoken a single word. The healers say he is healthy, but... perhaps his mind is elsewhere?"
Alaric knelt by the cradle. He placed a massive, scarred hand near Leo's stomach. He didn't feel the erratic heartbeat of a child; he felt a slow, rhythmic thrum of power. It was like touching a dormant volcano.
"He isn't silent because he is slow," Alaric mused, his eyes narrowing with pride. "He is silent because he is *busy*. This boy has been cultivating since the day he left the womb."
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### The First Words
Leo realized it was time to give them a sign. He needed them to know he was conscious, driven, and—most importantly—a true heir to the Draker name.
He rolled over, pushing himself up on his tiny, surprisingly sturdy arms. He looked his father in the eye. He didn't ask for a toy. He didn't ask for food. He reached back into his past-life vocabulary for the one thing that represented the ultimate "All-Rounder" reward.
**"I... want... milfs,"** Leo squeezed out, his voice high-pitched but incredibly steady.
The room went deathly silent. A maid in the background accidentally snuffed out a candle with a stray spark of surprise.
Lady Elena blinked. Then, a slow, playful smirk spread across her face. She burst into a fit of elegant laughter, leaning against the stone wall for support.
"Oh, Alaric!" she gasped, pointing at the serious-looking toddler. "Did you hear that? He's barely out of swaddling clothes and he's already looking to build a court."
She looked at her husband, who was currently wearing an expression of pure, shocked admiration.
**"He is just like you, my love,"** Elena laughed. "A true Draker. He knows that power is nothing without a legacy to share it with."
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### The Seven-Year Pact
Alaric let out a booming laugh that shook the very foundation of the nursery. He picked Leo up with one hand, hoisting the tiny "prodigy" into the air.
"A bold ambition, Leo! But the women of this world do not bow to names alone. They bow to strength. They bow to the Master of all Arts!"
Alaric set him back down, his expression turning serious.
"You have the focus. You have the hunger. But your body is still soft. We will let your mana mature for four more years. On your seventh birthday, the 'chill' life ends. I will personally put a sword in your hand, a spellbook in your lap, and a corpse at your feet."
Leo nodded, a tiny, dark smirk appearing on his face.
*Four more years of pure mana absorption?* Leo thought, settling back into his cradle. *By the time I'm seven, I won't just be a student. I'll be a monster.*
He closed his eyes and went back to his "meditation." The countdown to age seven—and the beginning of his legendary harem—had started.