Being a baby is rough.
You can't move properly.
Your bones feel like twigs.
You try to roll over and get winded like you ran a marathon.
And let's not even talk about diapers.
Honestly, I thought being reborn would come with perks. Super strength, magic pouring from my fingertips, maybe even a cool title like "He Who Conquered Death."
Instead, I got the world's most broken system and a body that can't even sit up straight.
Magic? Forget about it. Even with a skill called "Mana Usage," casting a spell takes more energy than it should. The one actual spell I have, Ember, is so weak it wouldn't scare a moth. I think I had more magical talent in my previous life—and back then, I barely had any time to train.
Still, I've been thinking a lot.
What does happen after you die?
I used to think death was the end. No afterlife. No souls. Just lights out—eternal nothing.
But I was wrong.
Something did happen. I was chosen by… something. A being. And I got a second chance.
If that being hadn't picked me, would I have just ceased to exist? Or is there more to this whole reincarnation thing?
Back then, people around me believed in gods—some in one, others in many. I never really had the luxury of thinking about that kind of stuff. I was too busy trying to save my mother and sister. Too busy training with Teacher whenever I had time.
If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing.
I died protecting them. That's a choice I'll never regret.
And now, here I am—reborn as a half-elf in a world I barely understand, with a busted magical system and a baby body that betrays me daily.
That divine guy—who was he, anyway?
If he could reincarnate people, alter their bodies, and grant broken systems, then what does that make him? A god? Or something worse?
And about this so-called "System"... it feels like he just shoved it onto me to get rid of it. Like a failed experiment he didn't want to deal with anymore. "Here kid, you take it. Good luck not dying."
Well guess what? I'm still alive.
So screw you.
Yeah, you heard me, System. I don't know if you're sentient, but I know you've got something in that glitchy core. When your menus open, I hear that eerie, mechanical voice in my head. You've got thoughts—or maybe you did before you got corrupted.
Fixing you might make things worse, though.
When I activated you the first time, you said you were repairing errors. And somehow, that made you glitch more. Over a thousand errors? That's not just broken. That's catastrophic.
I don't even know if I can survive messing with you. You feel tied to my soul, not just my body. Like you're part of me.
Which is… terrifying.
I'm already a month old now. Thirty days since I was born.
I've been counting the days mentally—what else am I gonna do while stuck in a crib?
My parents speak the same language as my old world's common tongue. That part's convenient. But everything else they say? Totally nuts.
The other day, I overheard Mom and Dad chatting while they thought I was asleep.
Apparently, they were adventurers about ten years ago. You know—monster slaying, dungeon crawling, that kind of thing. They even mentioned defeating the Demon Lord.
Yeah. Demon Lord.
What is this, a fantasy novel?
Then I heard Dad call Mom the "Holy Saint Priestess of Elves," and Mom teasing him back as "The Hero of Blazing Fire."
WHAT!?
Either they're really into roleplay or… they were actually legends?
I feel like if I'd read one of those isekai stories that divine guy mentioned, maybe I'd understand what's happening. Right now? I'm flying blind.
Are these titles normal here? Is this whole "Demon Lord" thing real?
How do farmers go from slaying ancient evils to growing potatoes?
I don't get it.
For now, I'm just focusing on surviving and learning.
Trying to talk is hard—my mouth and throat aren't developed enough to pronounce much more than babbling syllables. But I'm practicing.
One thing's for sure: I'm never telling anyone I was reincarnated. Ever. That's the kind of info that gets you labeled as cursed, possessed, or worse.
Let them treat me like their son. That's fine with me.
Despite everything, I'll admit… my life here isn't so bad.
Mom carries me around in her arms and hums soft songs in Elvish. Her voice is beautiful—it lulls me to sleep almost instantly. Dad visits a few times a day after finishing his work. He plays with me, kisses my forehead, brushes my hair gently…
They're kind. Loving.
And I'm starting to enjoy being spoiled.
It's healing something inside me.
Still, I'm not slacking off. Not completely.
I can't do much, but I'm experimenting with what I can do.
I've noticed my HP doesn't go down, no matter how tired I get. But I definitely feel exhaustion. So even if the system's not tracking everything right, my body still has limits.
My "Magic Usage" skill lets me sense and gather mana. It's not much, but it's something.
And "Ember"… that pitiful little flame. It's smaller than a candle's flicker.
But then I had an idea.
What if I used Ember over and over again?
What if I layered them? Built something bigger?
I waited until Mom was busy cooking this morning and began practicing.
First one Ember.
Then another.
Then another.
And another.
Carefully, I focused and started merging the tiny flames.
Slowly, something formed—like a miniature fireball hovering over my hand.
Not huge. Not powerful. But definitely more than one Ember.
I was getting excited.
That's when I heard it:
"HMM?! LEON?!"
Oops.
Busted.
I turned my head slowly.
Mom was standing in the doorway, wide-eyed, staring at the floating fireball in her baby son's hand.
Right. Maybe should've waited until after breakfast.
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