My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 447: Escaping from the palace
Previously on My attributes are increasing infinitely...
Ethan pondered his upcoming actions.
The phrase Hell mode lingered in his fresh mind like a mocking whisper from above. Under this harsh challenge, his very mother could attempt to end his life. Such an idea would horrify any typical baby. Luckily, Ethan Hunt stood far from typical.
Yet, pressure weighed on him too.
"Yumiko, are you there?" Ethan inquired in silence.
[Yes, Master. I am here.]
Her serene tone resonated in his mind, firm and comforting. Just that soothed the strain building in his chest.
"Your ability remains active, doesn't it?" Ethan questioned. For the initial time in this realm, a hint of urgency colored his voice.
[Yes, Master. Do not worry. Your power will keep growing each day. However, you need to endure the initial five days. Beyond that, you'll possess the might to fend for yourself.]
"Those coming five days, eh?" Ethan thought to himself. "Are you aware of this world's strength levels?"
[Yes, Master. This realm features three main stages. The Mortal Realm, the Immortal Realm, and the God Realm. Entities in the God Realm rival fourth-dimensional beings.]
Ethan halted briefly.
"Oh? So it's merely a minor world." A bit of his stress eased. Relative to his ultimate form from his prior cosmos, this location posed little real danger.
A see-through interface materialized before his sight.
[Master: Ethan Hunt
Physique: 300 gm
Spirit: 300 gm
Talent: Infinite Comprehension]
Ethan gazed at the figures.
Internally, he chuckled.
"Three hundred grams? I'm feebler than a bag of rice."
He longed to shake his head, yet that basic act seemed burdensome. A newborn's form proved incredibly delicate. Muscles resembled soaked cotton. Each shift demanded immense exertion.
"Damn. I'm starving," Ethan complained mentally. "I can't even tell if my mother will nourish me. Crying might provoke her to slay me in annoyance."
Tension hung thick in the palace atmosphere. Without fully opening his eyes, he detected lingering sorrow in the chamber. His mother had labored to birth him amid vast strain. Royal offspring were meant to shine as geniuses. He had undergone examination.
No talent.
A useless prince.
Ethan gradually attempted to raise his hand. The effort resembled hoisting an iron anvil. His little arm shook fiercely.
Come on.
He strained more. The hand ascended several inches upward.
Then it fell.
The jolt hit like a peak crumbling down.
With gritted resolve, he attempted once more. Now the hand rose a touch farther.
And that's when she spotted it.
The sobs ceased.
Silence enveloped the room.
A shiver slithered along Ethan's back. Despite being a mere infant, his soul held the maturity to detect murderous aura. His mother fixed her gaze on him. Assessing him. Gauging if he merited survival.
For the first occasion in ages, true powerlessness gripped Ethan.
He strove to appear harmless. His eyes grew a fraction wider. His face relaxed. Acting as an average infant for survival? He'd do it.
Moments dragged on eternally.
At last, the lady exhaled deeply.
The icy tension in the space dissolved.
Ethan let go of the breath he'd unconsciously held.
"Why lack any talent?" she murmured roughly. "Your royal siblings are all geniuses. Yet you turn out as mere trash."
Her words quivered, laden with letdown and fatigue.
Nevertheless, she cradled him tenderly.
And she nursed him.
As he suckled, cozy heat filled his tiny frame. Sustenance coursed through his blood. A sliver of power started to build.
Ethan quietly vowed.
Should she spare his life, he'd protect her throughout his stay in this land. No need for her affection. No requirement for faith in him. Merely allowing his existence sufficed.
Five days elapsed.
A stretch of five arduous days in hushed caution. He avoided needless wails. He shunned notice. He persevered.
By the fifth day, a shift occurred.
Power rushed inside him akin to a surging wave.
[Master: Ethan Hunt
Physique: 9.6 kg
Spirit: 9.6 kg
Talent: Infinite Comprehension]
Ethan curled his small fingers.
The contrast proved staggering.
Nine point six kilograms of pure bodily might within an infant's shell. Utterly ridiculous. Though trivial against his former existence, in this place, it sufficed.
The Trial Master probably remained clueless about his oddity. The tower had thrust Hell mode upon him, deeming rule acquisition almost unattainable.
Yet for Ethan, it bordered on simple mode.
He had merely begun.
Suddenly, voices drifted from beyond.
"The waste prince's mother has taken her own life. Such a pity."
Those words iced him over.
What?
He'd barely reached five days.
Why end it at this juncture?
Without the system, as a regular babe, how could he persist? The tower showed no mercy.
"Is this a joke of some sort?" Ethan wondered silently.
No leisure to ponder. Escape was already his intent. Urgency now sharpened the choice.
He inspected his image in a nearby bronze reflector. His development had quickened. Despite just five days, he resembled a near two-year-old.
His mother had prepared ample garments, hoping for a talented heir. Those hopes now crumbled, yet the outfits lingered.
Ethan clambered from the crib.
His actions stayed firm. Precise.
He clothed himself.
Quiet reigned in the palace. Night had fallen. Servants doubtless handled the queen's demise fallout.
"Yumiko. Guide me," Ethan commanded.
He refused needless perils.
Yumiko replied without delay.
[Turn left. Stay close to the wall. Wait three seconds before crossing.]
He adhered to her directions exactly.
Over fifty minutes, he navigated halls, gardens, and dim arches. He ducked behind columns as patrols went by. He synced his pace to far-off steps. His compact build glided through unseen gaps.
At length, he arrived at the primary entrance.
This marked the pivotal spot.
A pair of sentries kept vigil. Their shift change loomed soon. That brief handover offered his sole window.
Ethan concealed himself behind a grand ornamental bush by the masonry. He regulated his breaths.
Minutes stretched endlessly.
Then the moment arrived.
The sentries moved aside to swap places.
Ethan dashed.
His little limbs propelled him at unexpected velocity.
"Huh? Did you see something?" one sentry queried.
"No," the other answered.
By that point, Ethan had already darted past the gate.
Without pause, he plunged into the waters before the palace.
Cold.
The chill robbed his air.
Yet he swam.
Nine point six kilograms of power in a young child's form proved ample to battle the current. He gained the far shore and vanished into the gloom.
Several hours on, far within the woods, harsh truth dawned.
He felt freezing.
He felt famished.
And he stood solitary.
The breeze sliced through his flimsy attire. His petite frame quaked without cease.
"Man. I might really perish," he grumbled. "The chill first, then the bugs. They're devouring me."
Even a past entity that could obliterate realms bowed to pests.
He compelled his mind to focus.
Shelter. Heat. Sustenance.
He collected withered blades. Located a duo of branches.
Next, he started friction between them.
The formidable Ethan Hunt, formerly able to annihilate universes mentally, now frantically sought to ignite a blaze like some ancient savage.
Time dragged.
His limbs ached. His hands bubbled.
Eventually, a tiny ember flickered.
He tended it with care, adding parched grass fibers.
A modest blaze ignited.
Cozy heat bathed his features.
Ethan emitted a soft chuckle.
"Progress."
The flames popped gently, repelling the shadows.
"Yumiko," he uttered, gazing at the fire. "I'm famished. Where's an easy food source? Fruits. Mushrooms. Whatever."
[Master, twenty meters to your right, there is a mushroom growing near a fallen tree. It is safe for consumption. Roast it over the fire before eating. It will provide temporary nourishment.]