Chapter 7: First Skill: Babble of Tongues
The next morning arrived with a gentle rain.
Not a downpour, but a soft, steady patter that turned the thatch roof into a thousand tiny drums. Water dripped from the eaves in slow silver strings, pooling in shallow depressions outside the door. The air inside the hut smelled of wet earth, woodsmoke, and the faint sweetness of damp straw.
Mira rose early as always. She stirred the hearth back to life, coaxing yesterday's embers into fresh flame, then set a small iron pot to simmer with barley and dried herbs. While the porridge thickened, she lifted Bulleh from the blanket nest where they had slept entwined.
"Good morning, my little star," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "Listen—the sky is singing for you today."
Bulleh felt the rain's rhythm through the thin walls. Each drop carried trace mana—cleaner, purer than the ambient village flow. He breathed it in instinctively, letting Mana Breathing draw the moist motes inward. His overflow buffer ticked upward: 11.4 → 11.7.
But today was different.
Something had shifted overnight.
The Affection bond with Mira had deepened during their shared lullaby resonance. The System recognized it.
[Passive Evolution Triggered]
Familial Bond (Mira) → Level 2
Effects:
→ Mana sharing efficiency +30%
→ Hidden Affection growth rate +15% (total modifier now +25%)
→ New Skill Unlocked: Babble of Tongues (Lv.1)
He focused on the notification.
[Babble of Tongues (Lv.1) – Unique Starter Skill]
Description: Allows rudimentary communication through intent-infused vocalization despite physical limitations.
Current capabilities (infant throat):
• Convey basic emotions (content, hunger, discomfort, curiosity)
• Imitate simple phonetic patterns from heard language
• Infuse vocalizations with trace mana to amplify emotional transmission Mana cost: Minimal (0.2 per use) Cooldown: None Growth path: Higher levels unlock structured words, multilingual fluency, persuasive cadence (poetic influence possible)
A thrill ran through him.
Speech.
Not full sentences—not yet—but the first bridge between his ancient mind and this helpless body.
He had waited for this.
Mira carried him to the low stool by the hearth and began feeding him the warm cloth dipped in porridge-milk mixture. As she did, the door creaked open.
A tall, broad-shouldered man ducked inside, shaking rain from his wide-brimmed straw hat.
Torr, Bulleh's father.
He was in his late twenties, skin weathered to deep bronze by years under the sun, arms corded from plow and axe. His aura—steady earth-brown shot through with iron-gray determination—filled the small space like the scent of turned soil after rain. A faint scar curved along his left jaw, souvenir from a boar hunt in his youth.
"Mira," he said, voice low and warm. "Fields are holding. Rain's gentle—good for the young wheat."
He hung his hat on a peg, then crossed to them in three strides.
His eyes softened when they fell on Bulleh.
"And how's our fighter this morning?"
Mira smiled up at him. "He hummed with me last night. Actually hummed the lullaby back."
Torr's brows rose. He crouched, bringing his face level with Bulleh's.
"Did you now?"
Bulleh met his father's gaze—dark brown eyes flecked with gold, the same gold that threaded Mira's aura.
He opened his mouth.
The sound that emerged was not a cry, not a gurgle.
It was deliberate.
A soft, melodic hum—rough, infant-pitched, but unmistakably echoing the first line of Mira's lullaby:
Wiiiind… come… soft-ly…
The notes wavered, but the cadence was exact.
Mira gasped.
Torr froze.
Then he laughed—a deep, surprised rumble that shook his shoulders.
"By the Elements… he's singing."
Bulleh tried again.
This time he pushed a thread of mana into the sound—barely a whisper of energy, but enough to carry emotion.
Contentment. Recognition. Love.
The hum became:
Crā-dle… my… chīīld…
Phonemes clumsy, stretched, but clear in intent.
Mira's eyes filled with tears. She pressed a hand to her mouth.
Torr reached out slowly, as though afraid to break the moment, and laid one massive, callused finger against Bulleh's tiny palm.
Bulleh closed his fist around it.
Another thread of mana flowed—from father to son.
Silver-brown this time, solid and grounding.
[Mana Resonance – Paternal Bond Established]
Source: Torr (Father)
Quality: High (protective strength 89%)
Affection (Torr) unlocked at 1.0
Familial Bond (Torr) → Level 1
Babbling proficiency +15% (emotional amplification successful)
Torr's voice dropped to a whisper.
"You know me already, don't you, boy?"
Bulleh answered with another hum—shorter, affirmative.
Mmm-hmm.
Torr's laugh turned softer, almost reverent.
Mira wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist.
"He's… special, Torr. More than we thought."
Torr nodded slowly.
"Special or not, he's ours. That's enough."
He straightened, then glanced toward the door as footsteps approached outside.
"Company."
The door opened again—this time without knocking.
A wiry woman in her mid-forties stepped in, shaking rain from a wool cloak. Aunt Lira, Mira's older sister.
Her hair was iron-gray streaked with stubborn black, pulled into a tight braid. Her aura crackled—sharp violet edged with green, the color of quick wit and herbal knowledge. She carried a small woven basket covered with a damp cloth.
"Rain's good," she announced without preamble. "Fields'll drink deep. Brought you some feverfew and chamomile—fresh from the ridge patch. For the little one if he fusses."
She spotted Bulleh in Mira's arms and her expression softened a fraction.
"Well now. Look who's awake and staring like he's judging the weather."
She crossed the room and peered down at him.
Bulleh studied her in return.
Aunt Lira had been the village midwife's assistant during his birth. Her hands had helped bring him into this world. He remembered—through the Library's perfect recall—the steady competence in her grip, the quiet confidence in her voice when she'd told Mira, "He's strong. He'll fight."
Now he tested the new skill again.
He looked straight at her and hummed—short, questioning, curious.
Hmmm?
Lira blinked.
Then she barked a laugh.
"Cheeky already. You're going to be trouble, aren't you?"
She reached into her basket and pulled out a small sprig of chamomile—white petals still glistening with rain.
"Here. For luck."
She tucked it behind his ear like a flower crown.
The moment the herb touched him:
[Herbal Resonance Detected]
Item: Fresh Chamomile Sprig
Properties stored in Library: Calming (mild), anti-inflammatory, sleep aid
Passive skill synergy: Mystic Herbalist + Babble of Tongues → Emotional Herb Whisper (prototype)
Effect: When vocalizing near medicinal plants, +10% potency of emotional transmission
Bulleh hummed again—grateful, soft.
Thaaaank…
Lira's eyes narrowed, then widened.
"Did he just… say thank you?"
Mira nodded, tears brimming again.
Torr put a steadying hand on his wife's shoulder.
"Rain's not the only thing falling today," he murmured.
Lira studied Bulleh a long moment.
Then she shrugged, as though deciding something.
"Fine. Special child gets special rules. I'll bring more herbs tomorrow. You start talking proper, little judge, and I'll teach you their names."
She turned to leave, pausing at the door.
"Keep him dry. And keep singing to him. Seems he likes it."
The door closed behind her.
Silence fell—warm, rain-punctuated silence.
Torr looked at Mira, then at Bulleh.
"Our family just got bigger in ways I never expected."
Mira kissed Bulleh's forehead.
"He's been listening all along."
Bulleh let the moment settle into his core.
Family.
Not disciples chanting his verses in Kasur's lanes.
Not strangers drawn by poetry.
Blood. Voice. Touch. Rain.
He hummed once more—quiet, content, wrapping the lullaby's first line around them all like a shared blanket.
Wind… come… soft-ly…
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
Inside, three hearts—and one ancient soul—listened to the same gentle song.
In the Library, a new crystal orb appeared beside the first Mother's Song memory.
This one swirled with earth-brown, violet-green, and gold-silver light.
Title: Family Chorus – First Morning
Status: Eternal. Growing.
Bulleh closed his eyes.
The rain kept time with his breathing.
And for the first time since rebirth, he felt not just power—but home.
[End of Chapter 7]