Isekai

First POV

Bang.

The sudden noise jolted me awake.

For a split second, I expected agony, fire, and darkness—the abyss of hell swallowing me whole for my sins. I should be dead.

The radiation should've cancerised my insides.

My last bullet should've ensured that.

But instead I found … warmth.

A steady heartbeat thrummed against my ear, a soft yet unfamiliar sensation cradling me.

My body—no, my entire being—felt different.

Lighter. Smaller.

My vision was blurry, my eyelids heavy, but as they adjusted, I found myself staring up at the massive figures looming over me.

A giant woman with wild red hair held me close, her face flushed with exhaustion yet glowing with an unmistakable tenderness.

Beside her, a man with a strong jaw, a scar across his cheek, and eyes filled with overwhelming adoration gazed down at me.

My mind screamed at me to react, to understand, but my body refused to obey.

I tried to speak—demand what the hell was happening?—but all that escaped my lips was, garbled baby noise.

"Aw He's so cute talking...." spoke the giant woman her gaze glinting with love.

My thoughts came to a screeching halt.

I tried again.

More incoherent gurgling.

My limbs flailed uselessly, weak and uncoordinated.

Slowly, horrifyingly, the realization dawned on me.

Did I just get fucking isekai'd?

---

Third POV:

It seemed that was true.

Ravi was no more.

Now, he was Raul. Just Raul. No surname.

No family legacy.

Just the son of two supposed peasants who, quite frankly, were terrible at pretending to be peasants.

At least, that's what his father claimed—that they were simple farmers, living humbly without any notable family history.

But even as an infant, Raul could see through his father's bullshit.

His mother, Davina, was far too refined for a peasant woman.

The way she spoke, the way she moved—everything about her screamed nobility.

Unlike the other village women, who carried themselves with the weight of hard labor, Davina moved with an effortless grace.

Her words were articulate, her gestures precise.

She had the air of someone who had been trained from birth to exist in a world of etiquette and sophistication.

Then there was his father, the so-called farmer.

The man was built like a war-hardened soldier.

His body, covered in old scars, told a story that had nothing to do with tilling fields.

Some of those wounds were far too deep, too clean to have come from farming accidents.

Raul wasn't an expert in medieval combat, but even he could recognize stab wounds when he saw them.

So, putting two and two together, Raul had already come up with his own little headcanon—his parents were probably a runaway noble and a knight, living in anonymity.

A classic "princess and her sworn protector" love story, hiding from whatever noble house or kingdom they had escaped from.

It wasn't exactly a scientific conclusion, but it was a hell of a lot more believable than the nonsense they were trying to sell him.

----

Raul wasn't a fussy child.

In his infant years, he barely cried at night, making sure his parents got the rest they needed.

He kept quiet, observed more than he interacted, and overall, the experience of being reborn was far weirder than he ever expected.

Because while he had accepted Davina as his mother in name… deep down, she never truly felt like his mother.

It wasn't her fault.

She was kind, loving, and everything a mother should be.

But no matter how much he tried, no matter how many times he told himself that this was his new life, that this was his second chance, he could never truly call her his mother from the heart.

There was a lingering guilt in his chest, a fear that if he did, he would somehow be betraying the mother he had lost in his past life.

It was a dilemma he wasn't even remotely qualified to deal with, but life had thrown him into it anyway.

For the love of spices, what the fuck?! he mentally groaned, staring up at the wooden beams of his new home.

God, or whatever entity put me here, you could've at least made me an orphan so I wouldn't have to deal with this emotional nightmare!

But no.

Instead, he was stuck in the body of a baby, overanalyzing his parents, questioning his own emotions, and wondering just how the hell he was supposed to move forward from here.

---

A few years later..

Sitting cross-legged in his treehouse, Raul wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead, his fingers smudged with soot and traces of metal dust.

The dim light of his handmade lantern flickered slightly as he adjusted the position of the battery in front of him.

This was the culmination of three years of careful metalwork, trial and error, and quite a bit of sneaking around.

One of the perks of having a knight for a father was that Raul had inherited a naturally strong physique, even without extensive training.

He wasn't a prodigy or anything, but compared to the other kids his age, he was stronger, faster, and had far better endurance.

It allowed him to build this hideaway—a simple but sturdy treehouse hidden away from the village.

Of course, his father had helped with the more technical aspects, making sure the support beams wouldn't collapse under the weight, but most of the grunt work had been his own.

It was his sanctuary.

A place where he could work on his projects without curious eyes constantly peering over his shoulder.

Right now, his focus was entirely on the strange battery in front of him.

It was supposed to be a lead-acid battery, one of the first things he had tried to replicate since realizing this world had access to various metals.

But something was off about the lead he had found.

It behaved similarly to what he remembered—heavy, malleable, resistant to corrosion—but the composition was slightly different.

And the reason for that, as he had recently discovered, was magicules.

Yes. Magic particles..

It had been a mind-breaking realization. At first, he had assumed this world was just a standard medieval setting, but after encountering strange anomalies in the metals he worked with, he had dug deeper.

And while his parents didn't know anything about magic—at least, not in the way he had hoped—there was no denying its existence.

Magic is real.

The thought alone was enough to send a thrill through him.

He had been adamant about learning it, pestering his parents for any scraps of information.

Unfortunately, they had been frustratingly unhelpful, dismissing his obsession as childish curiosity.

But Raul wasn't going to let it go.

He just had to bide his time. Sooner or later, they'd crack.

And when they did, he'd finally get to dive into the mysteries of magic—on his own terms.

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Stones and Reviews please