My Life Changed with the Unlimited System

Nestled in its quiet clearing, the forest hut exuded a timeless calm. The morning sun filtered through the wooden blinds, casting soft streaks of light across the room. The crackling of the hearth was the only sound breaking the silence.

Ethan lay on the cushioned bench near the fire, still unconscious but breathing steadily. The faint glow of his Primal energy had all but faded, leaving behind only a subtle trace of its presence.

Seated on a chair near Ethan was a woman who exuded an air of toughness. Her build was lean and strong, her movements purposeful. Marie, around 24 years old, had a commanding presence despite her calm demeanor. Her dark hair was tied back in a simple braid, and her sharp brown eyes studied Ethan with curiosity and skepticism.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"So," Marie said, her voice steady but edged with a hint of disbelief, "this is the boy you found near the gate?"

Celia leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching Marie with mild amusement. "That's him," she confirmed, her tone as casual as her stance. "Three demons were about to make him their appetizer when I stepped in."

Marie's sharp gaze didn't waver. "And you decided to bring him back here instead of leaving him for the demons?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound like you, Celia."

Celia smirked, shrugging one shoulder. "What can I say? He looked interesting. There was something about him—golden energy, a faint aura that didn't feel... ordinary."

Marie's gaze flicked back to Ethan, her brow furrowing. "Golden energy, huh? And the old man? What does he think?"

Celia straightened slightly, her smirk fading into a more thoughtful expression. "He said it's the Primal power."

Marie froze, her hand hovering mid-air where she'd been reaching for a nearby pitcher of water. "The Primal power?" she repeated, her tone low and incredulous. "You're serious?"

"Completely," Celia replied, her voice carrying a note of seriousness now. "He checked the boy. He said there's something powerful inside him, but it doesn't fully belong to him. Like it was... placed there or stumbled upon."

Marie set the pitcher down, crossed her arms, and leaned against the table. Her sharp eyes studied Ethan again, this time with deeper scrutiny. "So, let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You found a boy radiating some legendary power by pure chance, saved him from demons, and brought him back to our home? You really know how to pick trouble, Celia."

Celia chuckled, brushing off the critique with a wave of her hand. "You should've seen him lying there, helpless but somehow radiating power. It was too intriguing to leave him behind."

Marie sighed, her tone turning dry. "You've got a strange sense of intrigue. But I suppose it's too late now. What does the old man plan to do with him?"

Celia shrugged. "He's still figuring that out. For now, we're just keeping him stable and waiting for him to wake up."

Marie's gaze lingered on Ethan briefly before she shook her head. "I don't know, Celia. This whole thing smells like trouble. Big trouble."

The door to the kitchen creaked open, and the old man stepped into the room, a large, steaming bowl of chicken curry balanced effortlessly in his hands. His sturdy frame moved with surprising ease, and his face carried a wry grin as he glanced at Marie and Celia.

"I hear talk of trouble," he said, his deep voice tinged with amusement. "What kind of trouble? The two of you already bring enough into my life. What's the harm in adding one more?" He let out a hearty laugh, the sound filling the room.

Marie rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "We're trouble, huh? Funny, I thought we kept you on your toes."

The old man chuckled louder as he placed the bowl on the table, its rich aroma wafting through the room. "Oh, don't flatter yourselves. If anything, it's a miracle this house is still standing with the chaos you two bring." His teasing tone made it clear he was more entertained than bothered.

He waved them over with a casual gesture. "Come, come. Breakfast first. Let's talk about trouble after we've eaten. Can't do that on an empty stomach."

Celia pushed off the wall, moving toward the table with a half-smile. "Do you have to make such a big deal from breakfast every single time? Bread and butter—or maybe an omelet—would be fine."

The old man's chuckle deepened as he took a seat. "Where's the fun in that?" he asked, ladling some curry into a bowl. "Besides, I think someone here might have an opinion about your so-called 'normal' breakfast."

Marie was already seated, her plate piled high with curry and rice. She paused mid-bite, loaded her fork, and gave Celia an incredulous look. "Bread and butter? An omelet? What kind of breakfast is that? Sounds like you're feeding a sick bird, not a person." She popped the bite into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated relish.

Celia sighed, shaking her head as she slid into a chair. "Of course, you'd say that. I'm surprised you didn't demand steak."

Marie grinned around her mouthful of food. "Steak's for dinner. Curry for breakfast is where it's at," she said with a wink, already reaching for another serving.

The old man laughed again, his tone warm and infectious. "See? Marie's got it right. Breakfast is the day's most important meal, so why not make it the best?"

Celia rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile as she grabbed a plate. "Fine, fine. Chicken curry for breakfast it is. But you're not off the hook when I start demanding dessert with lunch."

The room echoed with laughter as the three settled into their breakfast, the moment's warmth filling the space. Marie, however, broke the lighthearted atmosphere with a thoughtful question, her tone curious but serious. "Old man," she began, setting her fork down. "Are you really sure about letting that boy stay here?"

The old man leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin as he considered her words. His usually jovial expression turned reflective, and silence settled over the table momentarily. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but steady. "It's not just his power, you know. There's something about him—he reminds me of someone."

Marie tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. "From the wars, I bet," she said, her tone almost teasing. "That was when you'd befriend anyone who could hold their own in a fight."

The old man let out a hearty laugh, nodding. "Yes, yes, you've got it right," he said, a glimmer of nostalgia in his eyes. "Those were... interesting times."

Celia, who had been quietly listening, chimed in. "If that's the case, maybe he's a great-grandchild or something of that person. Wouldn't be the strangest thing, considering the way things work in this world."

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe, maybe. Life has a funny way of connecting dots you'd never think could be connected."

As they spoke, Ethan stirred on the cushioned bench by the hearth, a faint groan escaping his lips. His eyelids fluttered before slowly opening, revealing a dazed expression. With their honed senses as high-ranked Ascendants, the three of them immediately noticed the shift in his energy.

"He's awake," Celia said, calm but alert.

Ethan struggled to sit up, his movements sluggish and strained. Seeing his difficulty, Marie stood and moved to his side, gently helping him into a sitting position. "Easy there," she said, her tone firm but not unkind. "You've been out cold for a while. Don't push yourself."

Ethan blinked, trying to focus on the faces around him. His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. "Where... where am I? And why am I here?"

Celia stepped closer, crossing her arms as she addressed him. "Take it slow," she said, her tone steady but cautious. "One question at a time. To answer your first question, you're somewhere in the forest. That's all you need to know for now."

Ethan frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the vague response. Still, before he could press further, the old man took a seat on the couch opposite him, his piercing gaze steady but not unkind.

Still standing next to Ethan, Marie crossed her arms and looked down at him. "Before you start throwing more questions at us, you must tell us something first. Who are you?"

Ethan opened his mouth to answer but froze as a sharp pain shot through his head. He winced, clutching his temple as his vision blurred for a moment. "I... I don't know," he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. "I can't remember."

The three exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of surprise and intrigue. The old man leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge the truth of Ethan's words. "Well," he said after a pause, his voice calm but thoughtful. "That certainly makes things more interesting."

Celia furrowed her brow, glancing between Ethan and the old man. "What?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Does he... lose his memories?"

The old man nodded solemnly, his gaze fixed on Ethan. "It seems so. Not uncommon after what he's been through, but still troubling."

Marie, who had remained quiet, suddenly stepped forward. Her sharp green eyes glowed faintly, taking on an almost ethereal hue. "Let me check," she said simply. Her tone was matter-of-fact, yet the air around her grew heavy as her ability activated.

Ethan stiffened slightly, unsure of what was happening, but Marie focused her glowing eyes on him before he could protest. A faint hum resonated through the room as she peered deeper, her ability to discern truth honing in on Ethan's words and aura. After a moment, the glow faded, and she straightened, crossing her arms.

"He's telling the truth," she said decisively, her voice firm. "He doesn't remember. Not even a trace of deceit in him."

Celia let out a slow breath, processing the confirmation. "Huh," she muttered, her gaze flicking to the old man. "That's... inconvenient."

Marie glanced at her but didn't respond. The old man leaned forward, clasping his hands together as he studied Ethan. His expression was calm but curious, his tone steady as he addressed him.

"What can you remember, boy?" he asked, his voice cutting through the room like a gentle but firm command. His piercing gaze settled on Ethan, waiting for an answer.

Ethan furrowed his brow, his hands clenching the edge of the couch as he tried to focus. His head throbbed with the effort, but he forced himself to recall anything—any detail that could help.

"I... I remember flames," he began, his voice strained. "A man was firing flames everywhere, like a storm of fire. I was fighting him." His gaze grew distant as he struggled to piece together fragments. "I was guarding someone... someone in the middle of a breakthrough. It felt important—urgent."

Celia and the old man exchanged glances but said nothing, allowing Ethan to continue. "There was a mission," he added slowly. "To save people... a family. I think we were rescuing them from something—someone. It's all blurry, but... that's all I've got. That's all I can remember."

Celia leaned forward, her arms resting on her knees as she looked at him closely. "You can't remember anything else? Like where you came from?" she asked, her tone probing yet not unkind. "Anything about your home or your family?"

Ethan's face tightened as he pressed his palms against his temples, trying desperately to dredge more from the haze in his mind. He closed his eyes for a long moment before finally shaking his head. "No," he admitted, his voice quiet. "Nothing else. It's like... like there's a wall in my mind. I can't get through it."

Throughout the exchange, Marie's glowing green eyes remained locked on Ethan. Her ability hummed faintly in the air, subtle but ever-present, as she gauged the truth behind his words. She finally leaned back, her expression neutral but her voice clear.

"He's still telling the truth," she said simply. "Every word."

Celia sighed, leaning back in her chair with a look of frustration. "Great," she muttered under her breath. "We've got a guy with mysterious powers and no memory dropped into our laps. What's next?"

Marie didn't respond, but her glowing gaze lingered on Ethan for a few moments before fading completely. The old man remained silent, his sharp eyes observing Ethan intently.