chapter 1: Reincarnated

I quickly realized I was in a baby's body.

My vision was blurry, as newborns' eyes can only make out shapes and shadows. But over the next two weeks, my sight and hearing improved. My brain, already developed from my previous life, adapted quickly.

I was in a small country house lit by candles. There was no sign of electricity. The furniture was simple: a wooden table, a few chairs, and a hearth that crackled with fire. The air smelled of burning wood.

Two voices filled the room—a man and a woman.

The man was tall and muscular, with the bearing of a warrior. His sharp eyes were a light brown, and his short brown hair framed a face that looked like it had seen its own share of battles. He wore a half-open white shirt and slim black trousers, his physique resembling that of a top-tier athlete.

The woman was stunning. Her long red hair cascaded down her back, contrasting with her pale skin and piercing blue eyes. She wore a simple grey dress that hugged her slim yet curvy figure. But what struck me most was the way she looked at me with tenderness that reminded me of something I thought I had forgotten about ,the love of my mother. My real mother.

They spoke in a language I recognized. It sounded the same as the strange, angular script from the black book.

I've been reincarnated, I realized. This is the World of Ega. according to the book.

The man—my supposed father—spent his mornings with me. He'd make funny faces, tickle my feet, and talk to me in that unfamiliar language but he gets bored After a couple of hours, sometimes he'd leave, not returning for days. I guessed he was a soldier or a mercenary; because he always leaves wearing light armor, a sword at his side, and a shield strapped to his back.

My mother, on the other hand, never left my side. She fed me, played with me, and even slept beside me. But sometimes, when my father was away, I'd catch her crying softly. That always breaks my heart that I know she is always stressed and sad about something.

One day, as she sat by the window, tears streaming down her face, I decided to cheer her up. I babbled in my baby voice, making silly sounds until she turned to me. Her tears stopped, and she smiled—a real, genuine smile.

"M-mommy," I said, my voice shaky but clear.

Her eyes widened. "Did you just—?"

"Mommy," I repeated, this time with more confidence.

She lifted me up, laughing and crying at the same time. "Gerro! Come here! You have to hear this!"

My father stumbled into the room, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "What is it, Metha?"

"Alex just said 'mommy'!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement.

He looked at me, skepticism written all over his face. "Say it again, little one."

"D-daddy," I said, drawing out the word for effect i mean might as well make them all happy.

His jaw dropped. Then, without warning, he lifted me into the air and spun me around. "Did you hear that? He said 'daddy'!"

I felt dizzy and slightly nauseous, but their joy was infectious. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like I belonged and was being appreciated … again.

Over the next few months, I began to understand their language. My mother, Metha, talked to me constantly—about the food she cooked, the prices at the market, and the stories of her childhood while My father, Gerro, annoyed me with tales of his battles.

"I once fought five men at once," he boasted one evening, puffing out his chest. "They thought they had me cornered, but I took them down one by one."

I nodded along, pretending to believe him. But what really caught my attention was his story about magician.

"I've faced a magician on the battlefield," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They're terrifying. One wrong move, and you are history. But I've managed to escape him the only reason i can think of it lady luck was with me that day."

His tone made it clear that surviving an encounter with a magician was a feat in itself.

I always showed interest in reading and asked my mom to read every book in the house "two small children books"

But one day, Metha brought home a book. It was large, bound in animal skin, and its pages were yellowed with age.

"This cost a fortune," she said, running her fingers over the cover. "But I thought you might like it."

She began reading to me, her voice soft and melodic. The story was about a great magician who had lived a thousand years ago. He had united the humans, defeated the other races, and established the first human empire.

"He used his power to teach humans how to defend themselves," Metha explained. "Without him, we'd still be hiding somewhere or slaves to a different race."

I was fascinated. The more I listened, the more I wanted to learn.

By the time I was six months old, I could finally walk. I'd been practicing in secret, sneaking out of my bed at night to explore the house. One morning, I decided to show off my new skill.

I wobbled over to Metha, my tiny legs shaking with each step.

"Alex!" she gasped, her hands covering her mouth. "You're walking!"

She scooped me up, spinning me around in delight. Gerro, hearing the commotion, rushed into the room.

He said with anticipation "What is it this time!"

Metha said excitedly "my little Alex is walking"

Motivated, he said "Let's see it again," setting me down a few feet away.

I took a few unsteady steps before pretending to stumble. Gerro caught me just in time, laughing as he lifted me into the air.

But not everything was as joyful as it seemed. 

One night, as I lay in my small bed, I heard my parents speaking in hushed tones in the next room. I crept closer, my tiny heart pounding as I listened.

"We can't let anyone know how special Alex is," Metha whispered, her voice trembling. "If the nobles find out, they'll either take him as a slave or worst case throw him into the gladiator arena. They'll strip him of everything"

Gerro's voice was heavy with worry. "And if Lady Varosa finds out he's the count's illegitimate son..." He trailed off, as if saying the words aloud would make them real.

Metha's breath hitched, and I heard the soft sound of her wiping away tears. "She'll kill him, Gerro. She won't hesitate. She'll see him as a threat to her son's inheritance, and she'll destroy everything we have built."

There was a long silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire in the hearth. When Gerro finally spoke, his voice was raw with emotion. "I promised to protect you both. The day I found you, after Count Zodek cast you out, I swore I'd keep you safe. But this... these eyes are becoming more obvious by the day."

Metha's voice was barely a whisper now. "I was just a maid, Gerro. A nobody. When the count... when he forced himself on me, I thought my life was over. And then, when I found out I was pregnant, I thought it was a curse. But Alex... he's not a curse. He's a miracle. He's our miracle."

"He is," Gerro agreed, his voice thick with emotion. "But the world doesn't see him that way. To them, he's a bastard, a mistake. And if they find out, they will do everything possible to eliminate him."

Metha let out a choked sob. "I can't lose him, Gerro. Not after everything we've been through. Not after losing my family, my home, my dignity. He's all I have left."

"He's all we have left," Gerro corrected gently. "And I'll die before I let anyone hurt him. But we have to be careful. We have to hide his gifts, his intelligence. We can't let anyone suspect him, especially with his eyes."

Metha's voice broke. "It's not fair. He's just a baby. He shouldn't have to live in fear, to hide who he is. He deserves to be appreciated, not hunted."

"I know," Gerro said softly. "But the world isn't fair, Metha. It's cruel and unforgiving, especially to people like us."

There was another long silence, and I could picture Metha burying her face in Gerro's chest, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible. "What if we run? What if we leave this place, start over somewhere far away where no one knows us?"

Gerro sighed, his voice heavy with regret. "We can't. The count's influence stretches across the kingdom. If we run, they'll find us. And if they find us, they'll kill us. Our only chance is to stay here, to blend in, to make sure no one suspects a thing."

Metha's voice was desperate now. "But what if we fail? What if they find out? What if they take him from us?"

Gerro's voice was firm, but there was a tremor of fear beneath his words. "They won't. I won't let them. I'll die before I let anyone take our son."

Metha let out a shuddering breath. "I can't lose him, Gerro. I can't. He's my heart, my soul. If anything happens to him, I... I don't think I will have the will to live anymore."

Gerro's voice was soft now, almost a whisper. "We'll protect him, Metha. Together. No matter what it takes."

As I listened, a lump formed in my throat. I had known my situation was dangerous, but hearing the fear and desperation in my parents' voices made it real in a way it hadn't been before. They were risking everything for me—their safety, their happiness, their very lives. And for what? Because some nobleman couldn't keep his hands to himself? Because his wife saw me as a threat to her precious heir?

I felt a surge of anger, not just at the count and his wife, but at the world that had forced my parents into this impossible situation. They didn't deserve this..

But as I lay there, listening to the crackling of the fire and the soft sound of my mother's tears, I made a silent promise. I would protect them, just as they were protecting me

Because they were my only family. And I wasn't going to lose them... Again.

Two months later, I went outside for the first time.