My attributes are increasing infinitely - Chapter 447: Escaping from the palace

Chapter 447: Escaping from the palace

Ethan was planning his next move.

Hell mode. The words still echoed in his newborn mind like a taunt from the heavens. In this difficulty setting, there was a very real possibility that his own mother might try to kill him. The thought would have terrified any ordinary infant. Fortunately, Ethan Hunt was anything but ordinary.

Still, even he felt the pressure.

“Yumiko, are you there?” Ethan asked silently.

[Yes, Master. I am here.]

Her calm voice echoed within his consciousness, steady and reassuring. That alone eased some of the tightness in his chest.

“Your function should still be activated, right?” Ethan asked. For the first time since arriving in this world, there was a trace of desperation in his tone.

[Yes, Master. Do not worry. Every day your strength will continue to increase. But you must survive the first five days. After that, you will be strong enough to stand on your own.]

“The next five days, huh?” Ethan muttered inwardly. “Do you know the power scale of this world?”

[Yes, Master. This world has three primary realms. The Mortal Realm, the Immortal Realm, and the God Realm. The beings in the God Realm are comparable to fourth dimensional existences.]

Ethan paused.

“Oh? So it is just a small world.” His tension loosened slightly. Compared to his peak existence in his original universe, this place truly was not that threatening.

A translucent panel appeared in his vision.

[Master: Ethan Hunt

Physique: 300 gm

Spirit: 300 gm

Talent: Infinite Comprehension]

Ethan stared at the numbers.

Then he laughed inwardly.

“Three hundred grams? I am weaker than a sack of rice.”

He wanted to shake his head, but even that simple motion felt heavy. The body of a newborn was fragile beyond imagination. Every muscle felt like damp cotton. Every movement required monumental effort.

“Damn. I am hungry,” Ethan grumbled in his mind. “I do not even know if my mother will feed me. If I cry, she might kill me out of irritation.”

The palace air felt tense. Even without opening his eyes fully, he could sense despair lingering in the room. His mother had given birth to him under enormous pressure. Royal heirs were expected to be prodigies. And he had been tested.

No talent.

A waste prince.

Ethan slowly tried to lift his hand. The movement felt like trying to raise a hammer forged from iron. His tiny arm trembled violently.

Come on.

He pushed harder. The hand rose a few inches into the air.

Then it dropped.

The impact felt like a mountain collapsing.

He clenched his will and tried again. This time the hand lifted slightly higher.

And then she noticed.

The crying stopped.

The room became silent.

Ethan felt a chill crawl down his spine. Even as a newborn, his spirit was mature enough to sense killing intent. His mother was staring at him. Evaluating him. Measuring whether he was worth keeping alive.

For the first time in many years, Ethan felt genuine helplessness.

He tried his best to look innocent. His eyes widened slightly. His expression softened. If he had to act like a normal baby to survive, so be it.

Seconds passed like hours.

Finally, the woman sighed.

The cold pressure in the room faded.

Ethan released a breath he did not realize he was holding.

“Why do you not have any talent?” she whispered hoarsely. “Your royal brothers are all prodigies. And you are just a waste.”

Her voice trembled, filled with disappointment and exhaustion.

But she still lifted him gently.

And she fed him.

Warmth spread through his small body as he drank. Nourishment flowed into his veins. Strength, however little, began accumulating.

Ethan silently made a decision.

If she did not try to kill him, he would take care of her as long as he remained in this world. She did not have to love him. She did not have to believe in him. Letting him live was enough.

Five days passed.

Five long days of careful silence. He did not cry unnecessarily. He did not draw attention. He endured.

On the fifth day, something changed.

Energy surged within him like a tide.

[Master: Ethan Hunt

Physique: 9.6 kg

Spirit: 9.6 kg

Talent: Infinite Comprehension]

Ethan flexed his tiny fingers.

The difference was overwhelming.

Nine point six kilograms of raw physical force in the body of a newborn. It was absurd. Even though it was nothing compared to his past life, here it was enough.

The Trial Master likely had no idea why he was such an anomaly. The tower had assigned him Hell mode because leadership would be nearly impossible.

But for Ethan, this was practically easy mode.

He was just getting started.

Then he heard voices outside.

“The mother of the waste prince has committed suicide. How unfortunate.”

The words froze him.

What?

He was only five days old.

Why would she die now?

If he had not possessed the system, if he had been an ordinary infant, how would he survive? The tower was ruthless.

“Is this some kind of prank?” Ethan muttered inwardly.

There was no time to dwell on it. He had already planned to leave. Now the decision became urgent.

He examined his reflection in a bronze mirror nearby. His growth had accelerated. Although only five days had passed, he looked like a child of nearly two years.

His mother had bought many clothes in anticipation of raising a gifted son. Those dreams now lay shattered, but the clothes remained.

Ethan climbed out of the cradle.

His movements were steady. Controlled.

He dressed himself.

The palace was quiet. It was night. The servants were likely occupied with the aftermath of the queen’s death.

“Yumiko. Guide me,” Ethan ordered.

He would not take unnecessary risks.

Yumiko responded instantly.

[Turn left. Stay close to the wall. Wait three seconds before crossing.]

He followed her instructions precisely.

For fifty minutes, he moved through corridors, gardens, and shadowed archways. He hid behind pillars when guards passed. He timed his steps with distant footsteps. His small frame slipped through spaces unnoticed.

Finally, he reached the main gate.

This was the critical point.

Two guards stood watch. Soon they would switch shifts. That moment of transition would be his only chance.

Ethan hid behind a large decorative plant near the stone wall. He steadied his breathing.

Minutes felt like hours.

Then it happened.

The guards stepped away to exchange positions.

Ethan ran.

His small legs moved with surprising speed.

“Huh? Did you see something?” one guard asked.

“No,” the other replied.

By then, Ethan had already slipped through the gate.

Without hesitation, he jumped into the water in front of the palace.

Cold.

The shock stole his breath.

But he swam.

Nine point six kilograms of strength in a toddler body was more than enough to push through the water. He reached the opposite bank and disappeared into the night.

Hours later, deep in the forest, reality set in.

He was cold.

He was hungry.

And he was alone.

The wind cut through his thin clothes. His small body trembled uncontrollably.

“Man. I might actually die,” he muttered. “First the cold, then the mosquitoes. They are eating me alive.”

Even a former world erasing existence could be humbled by insects.

He forced himself to think clearly.

Shelter. Warmth. Food.

He gathered dry grass. Found two wooden sticks.

Then he began rubbing them together.

The mighty Ethan Hunt, once capable of erasing worlds with a thought, was now desperately trying to start a fire like a primitive human.

Time passed.

His arms burned. His palms blistered.

Finally, a small spark appeared.

He nurtured it carefully, feeding it dry strands of grass.

A small flame rose.

Warmth spread across his face.

Ethan let out a quiet laugh.

“Progress.”

The fire crackled softly, pushing back the darkness.

“Yumiko,” he said, staring into the flames. “I am starving. Where can I find something easy to eat? Fruits. Mushrooms. Anything.”

[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.]