Two years passed by like the blink of an eye. His daily routine of chores became shorter and shorter as his pudgy baby body grew leaner, taller and stronger. 

 

With this leftover free time that was constantly increasing, he was basically left with half the day to simply knit with Lisa. At one point, his father had doubted that he was actually doing his chores. But when Milo showed his father how he worked, George could only swallow his words down his throat. 

 

***

 

Lisa had stopped what she was doing. She was stunned as she watched her seven-year-old brother knit as fast as a ghost. In her head, she tried to gauge what level of a [Seamstress] could match him in speed and skill. After a bit of mental calculation, she pinned him between the capability of a Level 7 or 8 [Seamstress]!

 

This boy was a genius!  

 

At first, he was clumsy and dumb as a rock. She was constantly helping him untie knots that didn’t make any logical sense. He was slow too. It was to be expected for someone so young, but she underestimated how poorly coordinated he was. One time, he had actually gotten his hands stuck inside the fabric. 

 

But as her little brother finally started to make some real progress, she let out a metaphorical sigh of relief. She was glad too. Seeing his face light up whenever he made a successful knit would always make her day. 

 

This proved to her that anyone could improve at something if they put in enough work. Even a dumb oaf from out of the sticks could become a refined scholar if they applied themselves. 

 

But then something strange happened. 

 

From the first time her little brother had picked up a crochet to now—it was as if she had blinked. 

 

Before her appeared a knitting demon!

 

At first, his shocking talent had hurt her pride, but as the boy continued to improve by the day, she could only put aside her ego and admire how good her little brother was. 

 

She wondered how high his natural dexterity was. Fourteen? Fifteen? Sixteen?!

 

And then a thought creeped into her mind…

 

What if he became a [Tailor]?

 

Without a doubt, the boy would flourish as one, creating pieces that would be worn by the rich and nobility. But Kirkstead was only a thousand strong. There simply wasn’t a demand for that kind of work in this small place. 

 

He could of course stay here, but then his true skill wouldn’t be utilized to their full capabilities. Sooner or later the boy would become ambitious, or be recommended to travel inland by an idiot who should be minding their own business. If she were taking into account only Milo’s own future, then he definitely had a shot at reaching the 2nd tier. 

 

She had to talk to her mother about this. This would decide the future of the family for generations to come. 

 

As for Milo, he couldn’t care at all. He was just happy to be alive! Heck, he could be wheeling around shit and he’d still be giggling like a little girl! 

 

***

 

The first activity of the day was one that saw him rise earlier than everybody else in the family. Collecting water from the well to satiate parched throats was an important task. If they didn’t get their water, then his father would tan him with the belt. Fortunately, he had an adult mind to stop that from ever happening. 

 

As Milo jogged on the path to his family’s house, he rounded a corner. What he didn’t expect to see, however, was two boys—similar in age to him—kicking down and punching a small boy. This small boy was Ostin, his younger brother! And he was barely 4! But why was he here in the first place? Wasn’t he supposed to be at home?

 

In his rage, he still made sure not to spill the bucket. After plopping it to the ground, he ran over—he wasn’t a meathead that would spill water that he took so long collecting. 

 

Hearing the cries of his little brother was like torture to his ears! But within the span of a few seconds, he reached the two delinquents. They had also noticed him and grinned. 

 

“Oh look, it’s his older brother—”

 

Milo, in his previous life, was a boxer. He had practiced every Sunday, every week, for as long as he could remember. With his knuckles tucked beneath his cheekbones and his elbows pressed into his side, he released a left hand that headed straight for the left side of his face. 

 

However, most likely due to a lack of practice in this life, his fist only slightly brushed him, careening out of the way and briefly sending him off balance. At that moment, the other boy jumped onto him and wrestled him to the ground. 

 

“We’re going to fuck you up!” 

 

The next few moments were a blur of fists, kicks and messy strikes as both parties tried to incapacitate the other. But to the other parties' shock, it was as if Milo didn’t feel a thing. Milo wasn’t fazed by any of their strikes either. It would be more accurate to say that he felt nothing!

 

Milo remembered and almost laughed.

 

[Sturdy Body] had come in clutch! It said that it would reduce the impact of blows and null light blows. Maybe because his opponents were only children that their attacks registered as light blows. That would explain why he felt no impact or pain!

 

As the other party felt the impact of his blows while he didn’t, Milo managed to escape from one of the boy’s holds. His body warmed up, and his mind adjusted to the boxing skills of his previous life, he punched the tired and confused boy so hard in the face that saying he knocked him out was an understatement. He finished him. 

 

The other boy was in awe of Milo’s strike that it gave him enough time to wrestle him to the ground, and after punching him in the stomach enough times to give him a bad tummy ache, he shouted at him, also stammering due to being so close up to a stranger, “W-Who are y-you! Why did you hurt my brother?!”

 

The boy could only let out a low groan as he proceeded to faint from pain and exhaustion. 

 

Swallowing saliva down his throat, he stood up and marched over to Ostin. 

 

Ostin could barely speak as Milo asked him who they were. His face was beaten blue and one of his baby teeth had been knocked out. 

 

“I’m sorry bro, it’s all my fault. I snuck outside and followed you. But then they showed up and… beat me up. I don’t know why. I wasn’t being mean or anything. I swear I didn’t do anything bad!” 

 

Milo carried his silly little brother home that day. He also took some time to engrave the faces of these two boys into his mind. He would remember them for later. If they ever stumbled across his path again or messed with his little brother, he’d have to take action. 

 

And as he walked home that day, he felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder—despite him carrying Ostin and a bucket of water. As carrying Ostin was not considered work, he felt the full weight of his frame. He was only 4, but he was only 7 too. 

 

In his past life, he had never been able to fight back when the mafia’s youngsters would come to beat him up. They had sent him to the hospital more times than he could count. He had tried fighting back once before, but that was the time that he had felt closest to death in his entire life so far. He was beaten so badly that they didn’t beat him for the next three months. He got the message. 

 

But now that he was free, he could fight back! 

 

He was proud of himself. 

 

***

 

Take that shopkeeper! [Sturdy Body] was the right decision after all!

 

He chuckled to himself as he fell asleep that night, drained and exhausted.