?Chapter 7: The Blue of Strength and "A Cobra Vai Fumar"

  ?The new year peered through the windows of the Valerius Manor with a breath that was atypically warm. We were in the dead of winter, yet the snow was melting prematurely under a fleeting heatwave—a phenomenon that, according to local records, would last exactly nine days before the blizzard returned with a renewed, frost-bitten fury. For me, Ren Valerius, this "Nine-Day Thaw" was the perfect operational theater for my sixth birthday and my first official tactical field reconnaissance.

  ?I knew that in exactly one year, when I turned seven, the honeymoon period of my childhood would end. That’s when my official combat training would begin. Back in my old life, we had a saying for when things were about to get serious, chaotic, and potentially violent: A cobra vai fumar. Literally, it meant "the snake is going to smoke." It was my personal countdown to the day the "snake" would light up its first cigar.

  ?Urban Geometry and the Sergeant’s Gaze

  ?We departed the manor in a small, organized convoy: my mother Iris, my sister Maya, and an escort of four guards. What Maya saw as a simple trip to buy sweets, I viewed as a deep-dive infrastructure analysis. The city was, frankly, a masterpiece of military logistics. The manor sat at the absolute center, protected by a 120-meter belt of dense forest that served as a natural buffer zone.

  ?To ensure that the major trade arteries didn't violate the privacy of our homestead, the architects had designed an annular ring road—a massive "roundabout" that encircled the forest and connected the four primary avenues. These avenues sliced the city into cardinal axes, linking the four outer wall gates directly to the Military Castle, which loomed on an elevation exactly 570 meters from the manor.

  ?"A radial design..." I muttered, watching how the flow of merchants and soldiers moved without a single bottleneck. "If an enemy breaches a gate, the Castle has a clear line of sight and a clean kill zone down the entire avenue. Efficient. Brutal."

  ?The Mercenary Incident

  ?My logistical daydreams were interrupted by Maya. She was skipping from shop to shop, her eyes wide at the windows of silk dresses and carved toys. I was merely acting, faking interest in wooden hobby horses while mentally mapping escape routes. Iris laughed, clearly enchanted by the supposed "innocence" of her children.

  ?The atmosphere shifted in a heartbeat. Maya accidentally bumped into a group of men who reeked of cheap rotgut wine and poorly maintained steel. There were twelve of them—mercenaries, clearly new to the city, their egos inflated by a dangerous cocktail of ignorance. The leader, a hulking man with a pitted face, felt the impact.

  ?"Watch it, little brat," he growled. Without a second thought, he delivered a dismissive, arrogant flick to Maya’s forehead.

  ?Time froze. Maya recoiled, more startled than hurt. Our guards, dressed in civilian garb to avoid drawing attention, stepped forward instantly.

  ?"You’re under arrest for assaulting a member of the Valerius bloodline!" one of the guards barked.

  ?The mercenary let out a raucous laugh, signaling his crew to encircle our group. "Valerius? All I see are two brats and a little goddess who’s going to have the best night of her life with us. Come here, darling..."

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  ?I braced myself, calculating the exact angle needed to crush the leader’s windpipe. But then, I felt a sudden weight in the air. The temperature seemed to plummet. Iris gave a slight smile—the kind of smile a predator gives right before the jaw snaps shut.

  ?"Guards..." my mother’s voice was a cold, shimmering whisper. "Get the children out of my sight. Now."

  ?What followed wasn't a fight; it was a masterclass in kinetic demolition. In less than ten seconds, twelve grown men were sprawled across the cobblestones, unconscious or groaning at anatomically impossible angles. Iris didn't use a weapon. She used precision. Striking nerve clusters with clinical efficiency.

  ?I looked back and saw something truly comical: our four elite guards were huddled behind me, using the body of a six-year-old as a human shield.

  ?"Why the hell are you lot trembling?" I asked, incredulous.

  ?"Master Ren..." the lead guard whispered, pale and shaking. "In House Valerius, the most terrifying person isn't Marquess Arthur. It’s Lady Iris."

  ?My mother turned back, the aura of death vanishing instantly. "Did you say 'Lady', guard?"

  ?The man nearly fainted. "M-Miss! Forgive me! I meant to say that the Miss is looking radiant today!"

  ?Iris brushed a speck of dust from her dress, and we resumed our walk. Maya was now walking with impeccable caution, clearly terrified of waking that hidden leviathan again.

  ?Science, Magic, and the Ogive

  ?We reached the candy shop. Maya made me eat so much sugar that I felt my arteries were being laminated with honey. As we stepped back into the square, we encountered a crowd gathered around a central booth: "The Mana Shot." For one silver coin, a participant had to fire a magic projectile and knock down targets at 50 meters. An older man, roughly 48 years old, was failing miserably.

  ?I felt that familiar "engineer’s itch." I walked up to him as he prepared his next gust-based shot.

  ?"You’re losing energy to air resistance," I said, catching his attention. "Treat the mana like an aerodynamic projectile. Instead of a sphere, mold it into an ogive shape—like a rifle bullet. Add a clockwise rotation to stabilize the trajectory against the crosswinds. Use the torque, not just the raw force."

  ?The man looked at me, stunned, but he followed the instruction. The mana shot cut through the air like a sniper's round, punching through the target. He collected the potions and thanked me with a deep, solemn respect.

  ?But something bothered me. The man looked 48, but his muscle elasticity and the glint in his eyes suggested someone much younger. A veteran in deep cover. Target acquired. Keep him on the radar.

  ?The Blue of Strength and the Night of Disaster

  ?On the way back, Iris asked me about my birthday wish.

  ?"I want a blue cloak, Mama. The same color as the one you wear."

  ?She smiled, touched. "Why blue, Ren?"

  ?"Because this blue represents the strength of the Valerius family. And it represents you. Especially you."

  ?She revealed then that she had been an elite knight and S-rank adventurer before meeting Arthur. I realized my mother was a fantasy "Tiger Mom": sweet, but capable of erasing an army if they touched her kids.

  ?The night of my birthday finally arrived. Dinner was a joyous affair. I was genuinely happy. Arthur, wanting to be the perfect, hands-on father, brought the cake out himself.

  ?"Here is the cake for our little prodigy!" he announced, balancing the tray.

  ?But fate is a cruel strategist. Arthur, the legendary General, tripped over a slightly misaligned rug. The cake took flight in a perfect, tragic parabola. Silence. Half of the dessert, dripping with cream, landed directly on Iris’s pristine, sapphire-blue dress.

  ?Marquess Arthur turned a shade of white I didn't know existed. Sweat rolled down his forehead. I looked at my mother and I knew.

  ?Vixi, I thought, pulling Maya back. Agora a cobra vai fumar de verdade.

  ?"Arthur..." Iris said, her voice at a frequency that would make a demon apologize for existing.

  ?In that moment, I realized the bureaucratic red tape of the castle would be a paradise compared to what awaited my father that night. It was the last time we laughed together before the shadows began to lengthen over our house.