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

Ethan pondered his upcoming actions.

The phrase "Hell mode" continued to resound in his infant consciousness, like a mocking whisper from the divine. Under this brutal challenge, his very own mother could attempt to take his life. That notion would have filled any regular baby with sheer terror. Yet Ethan Hunt stood out as utterly extraordinary.

Nevertheless, the weight bore down on him too.

"Yumiko, are you present?" Ethan inquired in silence.

[Yes, Master. I am here.]

Her serene tone resonated inside his thoughts, providing stability and comfort. Just that helped loosen the knot in his chest a bit.

"Your ability remains active, doesn't it?" Ethan questioned. For the initial occasion in this realm, a hint of urgency colored his voice.

[Yes, Master. Rest assured. Your power will keep growing each day. However, you need to endure the initial five days. Beyond that, you'll possess the might to fend for yourself.]

"The coming five days, is it?" Ethan thought to himself. "Are you familiar with this world's strength levels?"

[Yes, Master. This realm features three main stages. The Mortal Realm, the Immortal Realm, and the God Realm. Entities in the God Realm rival fourth-dimensional beings.]

Ethan halted for a moment.

"Interesting. So it's merely a minor world after all." His anxiety eased a touch. Relative to his supreme state back in his home universe, this location didn't seem so daunting.

A see-through interface materialized before his eyes.

[Master: Ethan Hunt

Physique: 300 gm

Spirit: 300 gm

Talent: Infinite Comprehension]

Ethan gazed at the figures.

Internally, he chuckled.

"Three hundred grams? I'm frailer than a bag of rice."

He wished to shake his head, yet even that basic gesture seemed burdensome. A newborn's form was delicate to an unimaginable degree. Each fiber felt like soggy fabric. Any motion demanded tremendous exertion.

"Blast it. I'm famished," Ethan complained mentally. "I'm not even sure if my mother will nurse me. Should I wail, she could slay me in frustration."

Tension hung thick in the palace atmosphere. Without fully opening his eyes, he detected the lingering gloom in the chamber. His mother had labored to bring him into existence amid immense strain. Heirs to the throne were supposed to shine as geniuses. And tests had been conducted on him.

Zero aptitude.

A useless royal offspring.

Ethan gradually attempted to raise his arm. The effort resembled hoisting an iron anvil. His minuscule limb shook fiercely.

Come on.

He strained more. The arm ascended a couple of inches upward.

Then it fell back.

The jolt hit like an avalanche crashing down.

Gritting his resolve, he attempted once more. This round, the arm rose a tad further.

And that's when she spotted it.

The sobs ceased.

Silence enveloped the space.

A shiver raced along Ethan's spine. Despite his infancy, his mature soul could detect murderous aura. His mother fixed her gaze on him. Assessing him. Gauging if he merited survival.

For the first time in ages, Ethan experienced true powerlessness.

He strived to appear harmless. His eyes grew a fraction wider. His face turned gentler. If mimicking a typical infant meant staying alive, he'd do it.

Moments dragged on like eternities.

At last, the woman let out a sigh.

The icy tension in the air dissipated.

Ethan exhaled a breath he hadn't known he held.

"Why possess no talent at all?" she murmured in a rough whisper. "Your royal siblings are all geniuses. Yet you're merely trash."

Her words quivered, laden with letdown and weariness.

Still, she cradled him with care.

And she nursed him.

Cozy heat flowed through his little frame as he suckled. Sustenance coursed into his bloodstream. Power, though scant, started to build.

Ethan quietly vowed something.

Should she refrain from slaying him, he'd protect her throughout his stay in this realm. She needn't adore him. She needn't trust him. Sparing his life sufficed.

Five days elapsed.

A grueling five days of cautious quietude. He avoided needless cries. He shunned notice. He persevered.

By the fifth day, a shift occurred.

Power rushed inside him like a surging wave.

[Master: Ethan Hunt

Physique: 9.6 kg

Spirit: 9.6 kg

Talent: Infinite Comprehension]

Ethan curled his diminutive fingers.

The contrast was staggering.

Nine point six kilograms of pure bodily might within an infant's shell. It bordered on ridiculous. Though trivial against his former existence, in this place, it proved ample.

The Trial Master probably couldn't fathom his oddity. The tower had thrust Hell mode upon him, deeming rule nearly unattainable.

Yet for Ethan, it bordered on a breeze.

He was merely beginning.

Next, voices drifted from beyond.

"The waste prince's mother has taken her own life. Such a pity."

The statement chilled him to the core.

What?

He was merely five days into life.

Why end it at this juncture?

Without the system, as a plain baby, how could he persist? The tower showed no mercy.

"Is this a joke of some sort?" Ethan wondered silently.

No leisure to ponder. He'd already intended departure. Now urgency gripped the choice.

He inspected his image in a nearby bronze reflector. His development had hastened. Though just five days old, he resembled a near two-year-old.

His mother had prepared numerous garments, hoping for a prodigy son. Those hopes now crumbled, yet the outfits lingered.

Ethan clambered from the crib.

His motions flowed smoothly. Precise.

He clothed himself.

The palace lay hushed. Night had fallen. Servants doubtless busied with the queen's demise aftermath.

"Yumiko. Lead the way," Ethan commanded.

He'd avoid needless perils.

Yumiko replied without delay.

[Turn left. Hug the wall. Pause three seconds prior to crossing.]

He adhered to her directions exactly.

For fifty minutes, he navigated halls, gardens, and dim arches. He ducked behind columns as sentries strode by. He synced his pace to far-off steps. His compact build glided through unseen gaps.

At last, he arrived at the grand entrance.

This marked the pivotal spot.

Two sentries stood vigil. Shift change loomed soon. That brief handover offered his sole window.

Ethan concealed himself behind a hefty ornamental bush by the masonry. He regulated his breaths.

Minutes stretched into hours.

Then the moment struck.

The sentries moved aside to swap places.

Ethan dashed.

His little legs propelled him at unexpected velocity.

"Huh? Spot anything?" one sentry queried.

"Nope," the other answered.

By that point, Ethan had darted past the gate.

Without pause, he plunged into the waters before the palace.

Cold.

The chill snatched his air.

But he paddled onward.

Nine point six kilograms of force in a young child's build sufficed to battle the currents. He gained the far shore and vanished into the shadows.

Hours afterward, far within the woods, the truth dawned.

He shivered from the chill.

Hunger gnawed at him.

And solitude enveloped him.

The breeze sliced through his flimsy attire. His petite form quaked without cease.

"Darn. I could truly perish," he grumbled. "The frost first, then the bugs. They're devouring me."

Even a once-world-shattering entity could yield to pests.

He compelled his mind to focus.

Shelter. Heat. Sustenance.

He collected parched foliage. Gathered a pair of timber branches.

Then he started friction between them.

The formidable Ethan Hunt, formerly able to obliterate realms with mere will, now frantically sought to ignite a blaze like some ancient savage.

Time dragged.

His limbs ached. His hands bubbled.

At length, a tiny ember flickered.

He coaxed it tenderly, adding wisps of dry grass.

A modest blaze ignited.

Heat bloomed over his features.

Ethan emitted a soft chuckle.

"Advancement."

The flames popped gently, repelling the gloom.

"Yumiko," he uttered, eyes fixed on the fire. "I'm ravenous. Where might I locate simple fare? Berries. Fungi. Whatever."

[Master, twenty meters rightward, a mushroom sprouts by a toppled trunk. It's safe to ingest. Cook it on the fire prior to consumption. It offers brief sustenance.]