Chapter 7: Foundation of a New Fate
Arthur lay still, swaddled in soft linens laced with faint blue patterns that shifted under the light. Outside the curved wall, which doubled as a partially transparent viewport, he could make out a faint shimmer—likely an atmospheric shield or a window filtering the brilliant sky of this alien world.
The door had closed again.
His mother—Lyra—was gone.
The guards stood outside, unmoving.
He was alone… finally.
And that meant it was time to think.
The World Behind the Veil
Arthur stared up at the ceiling. Smooth panels pulsed with faint blue light, their surfaces laced with subtle circuit-like patterns. Thin energy conduits ran seamlessly across the walls, glowing intermittently like a heartbeat. Every corner of the room whispered precision—motionless drones embedded in alcoves, a biometric scanner built into the cradle's side. This wasn't just a normal room—it was fully automated, beyond anything he had ever seen on Earth.
He exhaled through his tiny lungs, forcing himself to stay calm.
Okay, he thought. Let's summarize what I know.
First: he was no longer on Earth. This was a real world—Nabeula Universe, Aetherion Galaxy, Valkar Empire.
Second: he had been reincarnated into an infant's body. A new Arthur. Somehow still himself—but not.
Third: his name was Arthur here, too. A name never used for any NPC in the game, yet now spoken like destiny.
Fourth: his mother—Lady Lyra—was of noble standing. House Ragnar. One of the most militarized, resource-rich houses that ruled over the Valkar Empire. The sigils were proof.
Fifth: two guards had referred to him as "young master."
This last part disturbed him the most. If he truly was a noble… that came with consequences.
Nobility in Astral Genesis wasn't about comfort and privilege—it was about position, power, alliances, and expectation. Noble heirs were political pieces on a galactic chessboard. And if you were weak, expendable, or failed to "awaken" properly… you vanished.
No mercy.
Arthur had seen it all in the lore and the side quests. Entire noble branches eradicated after internal disputes over succession. Cousins poisoned before their first awakening. Alliances forged with weddings—and broken with assassinations.
He wasn't a player anymore.
This wasn't a game.
He was inside it.
And it could kill him.
The System's Limitations
Arthur raised his tiny hand again, willing the hovering status window to refresh.
It complied.
[SYSTEM SYNC RATE: 3%]
[ACCESS: BASIC STATUS ONLY]
[EXPANDED FUNCTIONS: LOCKED]
Damn.
Just as he suspected.
Until his system fully synchronized with his body, he couldn't access anything beyond basic stats.
No maps. No skill trees. No cultivation techniques.
No advantages.
The one edge he might have had was sealed behind a digital wall.
Arthur smirked bitterly.
Of course it is. Nothing comes easy.
But that was fine.
He was used to operating without a full deck.
His time in the military had taught him how to work with scraps, with nothing but instinct and grit. When tech failed, when communication cut out, when backup died—you still had to move forward. You adapted. You survived.
He would do the same here.
Even if he had to start from zero.
Shedding the Old Arthur
Arthur looked toward the viewport again.
The sky was dark blue. Twin moons hovered above the horizon, one partially eclipsed. The buildings beyond looked like crystalline towers, hovering slightly above the ground on anti-gravity stabilizers.
This was real.
His fingers twitched.
I can't be the same person, he thought.
Not anymore.
The Arthur who once cried after his mother died, who smiled because a girl gave him shelter, who loved streaming more than strategy—that Arthur couldn't survive here.
He needed to be… colder.
Sharper.
More calculating.
More like the man he became during his final black ops mission—the one who wiped out an entire insurgent cell in silence, who wore no insignia, who left no survivors.
Zenith.
That was who he needed to become now—not the face on a stream, but the unseen force that dictated outcomes without mercy.
He didn't need to stand out.
He needed to watch. Learn. Grow. In the shadows, if he had to.
And one day…
One day, when the time was right, he'd stand tall again—on his own terms.
The First Decision
But before anything else…
He needed information.
He needed to understand this world as it truly functioned—not just what the game told him.
Because the game… may have been a shallow reflection.
This place had culture. Politics. Real stakes.
He needed to know how children were raised in House Ragnar. What their education looked like. Whether he was firstborn, second, or something else entirely.
He needed to know if there were enemies in this house. Rivals. Power players.
Because if history—and RPG structure—had taught him anything, noble families were always dens of ambition and threat.
He smirked, almost amused.
A baby with military strategy running through his head. What a ridiculous start.
But he couldn't laugh too loudly.
Because outside this nursery, danger was already moving.
Final Reflections
Arthur closed his eyes for a moment.
His mind drifted—not to war, not to the battlefield, but to the silence after everything was lost. To the smoke. To the fire. To a world where he'd died with nothing left but memories.
In my last life... I lost everything.
Everything he had fought for, everything he had cared about—gone.
He let the thought settle, cold and final.
But now—this life, this strange rebirth—was a second chance. A new game with new rules. And this time, he wasn't going to live it half-heartedly.
He would not cling to the past.
He would not waste this gift.
This time… I'll live fully.
No regrets. No hesitation.
I will live this life to its very limit.
He opened his eyes, the soft glow of the status window reflected in their calm, icy depths.
Let the universe come.
He was ready.