Second Choice Noble Son: Apparently I’m Stronger Than the Summoned Heroes Three-Year Summary — Valemont, Age 5 to 8 (Act II Continuati

The three years that followed Rooga’s awakening passed gently, like a long breath of peace after the storm.

Valemont flourished again, and the echoes of grief that once haunted its fields slowly turned into songs of life.

Darius’s land had beco the pride of the borderlands — its harvests feeding not only the village but nearby towns as well.

The soil thrived under the blessing of Maori’s roots, the crops glowing faintly with residual mana.

Yet growth brought more than bounty.

With new settlers arriving every month, the once-quiet estate had turned into a lively community — one that demanded managent.

It was Lyra, not Darius, who bore that weight.

She spent her days balancing ledgers, negotiating with traders, and reorganizing the workers into shifts.

When Darius laughed and said, “Let it grow,” Lyra would snap back, “If it grows unchecked, it will consu the village itself.”

Her administrative schedule beca law; even the villagers called her Lady Steward now.

Selene found a fragile rhythm again.

Her grief llowed into quiet strength, and she began teaching small lessons in magic to the children of the estate.

But when Rooga approached her about learning, she would always hesitate.

Her spells were built for destruction — blazing and absolute. “This isn’t for you,” she said once, her hand trembling over a burning sigil.

He didn’t argue.

Elara, now twelve, grew gentler.

The fierce pride that once drove her to challenge Rooga had turned inward.

She trained harder than anyone else but treated her brother with near-sacred care, afraid of repeating her past mistake.

Every ti Rooga stumbled, she was the first to reach him, murmuring soft apologies he didn’t need.

Riaz, only five, inherited the Valemont blessing — the sa regeneration that flowed in Darius and Elara’s blood.

He trained with relentless energy, often pushing himself until he bled, but his body healed before anyone could scold him.

And whenever he fell too hard, it was Rooga who appeared first — his steady hands lifting his brother back up.

Peace had touched others, too.

Kaen and Nira — longti residents of Valemont — welcod twin children, a boy and a girl.

Their laughter filled the once-empty courtyard, and even Darius, stoic as stone, was seen carrying one on each shoulder from ti to ti.

The estate had begun to feel more like a family than a farm.

Maori’s expedition continued deeper into the corrupted land under Lyra’s quiet supervision.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Piece by piece, her roots reclaid what darkness had stolen.

The villagers whispered that the goddess had begun to sing again — her voice carried by the wind that danced through their fields.

Few knew the truth: each night, Lyra and Maori’s envoys purified a small portion of land using the stored Aqua Bloom vials Rooga had unknowingly created years ago.

And still, the boy knew nothing of it.

As for Maori herself — she had grown vast.

Her great tree now reached higher than the estate walls, and her presence could be felt in every drop of rain that touched Valemont soil.

Though she rarely manifested, Rooga often visited her grove, sitting under her branches just to talk.

Rooga’s growth was quiet.

He never trained as hard as his siblings. His days were spent wandering the estate, helping craftsn, or playing with the younger children.

He practiced swordsmanship only when Kain dragged him to the field, and his magic lessons were sporadic.

His reason was simple: the HUD.

He had noticed sothing strange — every spell he learned stopped progressing at 99%.

No matter how hard he trained, the numbers would never rise.

Rembering what Aqua Bloom had beco when he reached perfect mastery, Rooga decided not to chase 100%.

He feared the kind of power that ca from total control, the kind that destroyed as much as it created.

He tried learning other spells from Selene, but her affinity lay in destruction magic — raw, overwhelming, and frightening.

Lyra, too, brushed him off with a tired wave. “You have eyes, don’t you? Watch and learn,” she’d say before vanishing back into her mountain of paperwork.

So he stopped asking.

Instead, he learned from observation — watching the flow of mana in nature, in tools, in people.

He began to understand magic not as sothing cast, but sothing lived.

Chera, the harpy, still refused to sleep anywhere but next to him, her wings now large enough to wrap him completely. She had beco his living blanket — half companion, half quilt.

Roghar, the lizardman warrior, still shadowed him from afar, but most of his ti was spent guarding Riaz. Whenever Riaz trained too recklessly, it was Roghar who caught him before he broke sothing important.

The village itself had doubled in size. New hos stood along the road to the estate, and traders ca weekly to buy crops, enchanted wood, and mana-laced fruit.

Children played openly, no longer afraid of the corrupted beasts beyond the forest.

From ages five to eight, Rooga’s world blood quietly.

The scars of tragedy faded into roots of peace.

His family had nded, the land prospered, and the goddess’s light returned to Valemont.

And yet, beneath all the laughter and warmth, secrets still stirred — the hidden expedition into the corruption, the mysterious limit of his HUD, and the question that sotis whispered in his dreams:

If everything has reached 99%, what happens when the world itself reaches 100?