Chapter 7 — The First Birthday
The morning sun rose over São Paulo on 18 March 2011, casting golden rays across the sprawling Azevedo estate. One year had passed since Árman Azevedo first entered the world, and the household was buzzing with excitement for his first birthday. Balloons in soft pastel colors swayed gently in the grand halls, and golden streamers reflected the light like liquid sunshine. Everywhere, the estate had been decorated for the celebration of a child who was, to the world, perfectly normal—but to his parents, grandparents, and everyone who loved him, nothing about him was ordinary.
The scent of freshly baked cakes, pastries, and delicate finger foods filled the air. Chef Bernardo had prepared an elaborate menu: miniature quiches, delicate macarons, fruit tarts, and a towering cake shaped like a golden crown, decorated with sparkling edible jewels. Soft music played in the background, a gentle classical mix that filled the halls with a serene, celebratory atmosphere. Every detail had been prepared meticulously, but nothing extravagant to overwhelm the baby—just a beautiful, warm, loving environment.
Family began to gather. Augusto and Helena Azevedo, the paternal grandparents, arrived first, carrying gifts wrapped in luxurious silk paper. Their eyes sparkled with pride and joy. "Our little prince," Helena whispered, as she gently placed a soft blanket around Árman, who was seated on a plush chair in the center of the hall. Augusto chuckled softly, adjusting his glasses, "One year already… and he has made our lives brighter than we could have ever imagined."
From across the street, the Duarte family arrived in a caravan of cars, laughter spilling out as they stepped onto the estate grounds. Gabriel and Carolina Duarte, along with their children, Lucca and Beatriz, were the first to arrive. Mariana Duarte-Costa and her children, Sofia and Pedro, followed, while Luiza Duarte, ever dramatic, arrived last, carrying a bundle of soft toys and exclaiming, "The most beautiful baby in the universe deserves the universe itself!"
Leonardo and Isabella Azevedo stood near the center of the hall, smiling and holding Árman's tiny hands. Today, they let him take the spotlight in a way that had always been subtle and careful—allowing him to enjoy being a normal child surrounded by love. He wore a soft white outfit with golden embroidery, simple but elegant, with tiny golden shoes that glimmered under the chandelier lights. His silken white hair framed his face perfectly, and his golden eyes blinked with curiosity as cousins, grandparents, and aunts approached him one by one.
The celebration unfolded gently. Gifts were unwrapped, baby laughter filled the air, and small toys were distributed. Árman's cousins adored him, climbing near him and trying to play with his soft, delicate hands. He giggled and clapped when his cousins made funny faces or squeaky sounds. Though the party was full of warmth and excitement, his parents ensured it remained calm and natural. The adults watched him with pride and affection, never pushing him beyond what a normal baby could handle, and never suspecting the dormant potential hidden within him.
For the first time since birth, the system fully opened. Though he could not yet understand its full capabilities, a soft awareness stirred within his mind—a quiet, latent presence waiting for him to notice. Today marked the beginning of the next stage, the transition from infant life to the awakening of the mind that had been prepared since before his birth.
After cake and gifts, as the guests gathered to take pictures and enjoy the warm afternoon, Árman sat quietly on his mother's lap for a moment. He blinked golden eyes at the gentle sunlight streaming through the windows, the air filled with the scent of flowers, sweets, and polished marble. He felt… something within him. A soft, unfamiliar tingle, like a distant echo of something bigger waiting to be discovered.
And then, in that quiet moment, he whispered to himself:
"First time… system, show me my status window."
The world around him seemed to pause. The laughter of his cousins, the soft hum of music, the gentle murmurs of family—all faded into a calm, white space within his mind. The status window appeared: luminous, translucent, and infinitely detailed.
In it, he saw himself—not as a mere baby, but as a being with all his attributes laid out:
Appearance: Perfect golden-ratio face, silky white hair, golden eyes, double eyelashes, flawless eyebrows.
Body: Normal infant currently, but with limitless potential stored within.
Health: Perfect, no flaws, immune to disease, growth and development optimal.
Family Bonds: Maximum affection from both paternal and maternal sides, unconditional love recorded and maintained.
Shop System: Fully active, points unlimited, access to any item, skill, concept, or power imaginable (though he had yet to make a single purchase).
Memory: All memories from his previous existence intact, though latent in infant form.
Dimensional Awareness: Full awareness of the private dimension and ability to manipulate it in the future.
The window shimmered with divine light, information flowing like a river. Every minute detail of his life, his body, his potential, and his relationships was clearly visible. And yet, he felt calm, curious, and in control—though only a baby in the eyes of the world, in his mind, he understood that this was the first moment of true awakening.
He blinked golden eyes slowly and smiled faintly, a private smile, unnoticed by anyone in the room. Around him, family celebrated his birthday, completely unaware of the silent, powerful presence within the tiny infant. Árman's mind stretched, exploring the status window, reading every detail, feeling the weight of potential and possibility, knowing that one day, he could shape anything—but today, he was content. Today, he was a one-year-old boy enjoying his first birthday, surrounded by love, laughter, and the warmth of a family that adored him.
The sunlight glinted off his soft hair, and the chandeliers reflected golden sparkles across the walls. In that quiet, invisible space of his mind, Árman whispered again:
"This… is mine."
The first birthday party continued, filled with joy, gifts, and laughter, while within him, a new awareness had blossomed. For the first time, he saw everything about himself—not as others saw him, but as he truly was. And in that moment, the seed of knowledge, power, and destiny planted before his birth began to awaken, quietly, gently, perfectly.