It's been four years since I was reborn into this world… and honestly, I love it here.
Here's a bit of the progress I've made over the years:
At six months old, I started walking. Wobbly and unsteady, sure—but it worked. I only fell every few steps, and by nine months, I could move around without issue.
Speech, though? That was a pain. At six months, I could only manage simple words like "no" and "mama." Obviously, since I'm such an adorable baby, my first word was "Mama." You should've seen her face—she was almost crying. At least, I think she was. It's hard to tell with her, considering her expression rarely changes.
Still, I know she was happy.
By the time I turned one, I was speaking fluently. I had to hold back a bit, of course—no need to alarm anyone—but it felt good to string sentences together again.
Not long after my first birthday, things shifted. My mother—Evelyn Darkheart—had to return to her role as head of Darkheart International. From what I've gathered, it's a multinational tech and energy empire, and she's both CEO and majority shareholder.
Not bad for someone who was born Quirkless.
Since then, a butler has handled most of my daily care. His name is Sebastian Cromwell, and apparently, his family has served the Darkhearts for generations. He's strict but kind, always punctual, always professional—the kind of man who makes you feel like you're in a movie.
Just because Mother returned to work doesn't mean I never see her. It just means she's away sometimes—usually for a week or two—overseeing business abroad. But when she returns, she always makes time for me. And even if her face stays unreadable… I know.
She loves me.
And in this life, that's more than enough.
As I walked down the hallway from my room toward my mother's study—dressed in a white shirt, black pants, and polished black shoes—my thoughts drifted to what was about to happen.
Today was the day.
My mother had already told me our private doctor would arrive shortly to test whether or not I had a Quirk. And honestly? I wasn't sure what he'd find. After all… I'm not exactly human. I'm Kryptonian—thanks to the wish I made before reincarnating.
Still, there was no point worrying now.
I glanced over my shoulder. Just a few steps behind me, as always, was Sebastian—the ever-dutiful butler. Noticing my look, he asked in his usual composed tone,
"Is something the matter, young master?"
"No, everything's alright," I replied, offering a faint smile.
But before I turned forward again, my gaze flicked to the translucent blue screen floating beside him—visible only to me:
Name: Sebastian Alexander Cromwell
Age: 35
Quirk: Iron Vigor – Grants Sebastian superhuman strength, stamina, and reflexes without altering his appearance. His muscles don't grow disproportionately, and he can maintain a perfect butler's grace while delivering bone-crushing blows.
Power Level: 9-A
That was my system—one of the cheats I brought into this world.
It might not seem like much at first glance, but being able to see someone's Quirk and their power level gives me a huge advantage—especially in a world where strength often decides everything.
We soon reached my mother's study. I stopped in front of the tall, elegant door and knocked three times, announcing our presence.
"Come in," came her calm, composed voice from within.
I opened the door, and we stepped inside.
Without hesitation, I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around my mother in a tight hug.
"I missed you, Mom," I said, pressing my face into her side.
"I missed you too, dear," she replied, her voice gentler than usual—accompanied by one of her rare, fleeting smiles.
She turned her crimson eyes toward Sebastian. "I hope he didn't cause too much trouble."
Sebastian gave a slight bow, his expression unreadable. "No, my Lady. The young master has behaved excellently in your absence."
I gasped, placing a hand dramatically over my chest. "How could you say that, Mom? I always behave!"
Both of them looked at me.
My mother's eyebrow lifted—just a fraction, but from her, that was practically a full-blown reaction.
Sebastian didn't even try to hide it. The corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk.
Feeling my cheeks heat up, I glanced down at the floor and mumbled, "...Alright, this time I behaved."
Mother shook her head and sighed—half exasperation, half affection. "Alright, come on, dear. The doctor's already waiting."
With that, we left the study and made our way toward the examination room.
A few minutes later, we arrived. The doctor was already waiting in front of the door.
"Lady Darkheart, young master—please, come in so we can begin," he said politely.
"Lead the way," my mother replied coolly.
The three of us stepped inside, while Sebastian remained in the hallway, waiting silently as always.
Inside, the room was brightly lit and sterile. That faint antiseptic scent—so familiar in hospitals—clung to the air. The doctor gestured for me to sit on the examination table. I did so without a word.
"Alright," he began, addressing me directly, "since your Quirk hasn't manifested yet, we'll perform a small blood test. This will examine your genetic markers and cross-reference them with our database. From that, we'll learn two things: first, whether you have a Quirk at all, and second, whether it's similar to any known ones."
He turned and picked up a sleek, silver syringe from the nearby tray.
"This might hurt a bit," he added gently, "but it'll be over before you know it."
I gave a small nod, keeping my expression calm. The needle pricked my arm—sharp, but nothing I couldn't handle. A few seconds later, the vial was full. The doctor detached the syringe and inserted it into a compact machine nearby.
The machine hummed quietly. Moments later, data filled the screen.
Then the doctor's eyes widened. "This... this is incredible," he murmured.
My mother raised an eyebrow. Her voice was calm but cool. "How about you explain what's so incredible, Doctor?"
I felt a tiny flutter of nerves in my stomach. What did they find?
The doctor adjusted his glasses, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Lady Darkheart... your son's cells are saturated with energy. Specifically, they're filled with solar radiation. They act like... like living batteries."
Mother's eyes narrowed slightly. "So you're saying my son's cells store solar radiation? And what exactly does that mean?"
"I apologize if I wasn't clear," he said quickly. "It means your son absorbs sunlight—and in doing so, he becomes stronger. His potential appears directly proportional to the solar energy his cells can store and convert. In theory... there may not be an upper limit."
Silence fell over the room.
Then my mother spoke again, voice sharper now. "This conversation does not leave this room. Do you understand me?"
The doctor swallowed and nodded several times. "O-of course, Lady Darkheart. I won't tell a soul."
Satisfied, she gave a small nod, took my hand, and led me out. Sebastian fell into step behind us.
"Everything alright, Mom?" I asked quietly.
She stopped. Then, without a word, she knelt so we were eye level. Her expression was serious—serious enough to make even my four-year-old heart feel the weight of what she was about to say.
"Listen, Elijah," she said. "What the doctor just told us means you have a very powerful Quirk. If all you need to grow stronger is sunlight... then no one can predict how strong you might become."
Her crimson eyes met mine.
"But right now, you're still small. Still vulnerable. Our security is good—but not perfect. Until you're strong enough to protect yourself, don't tell anyone what your Quirk is. If someone asks, just say you're Quirkless. Understand?"
I hesitated for only a second. Her words weren't just a warning—they were a shield.
"I understand," I said. "I won't tell anyone."
She stood and gave my hand a gentle squeeze before returning to her study.
Sebastian and I continued on, heading toward the garden pagoda—my favorite place in the estate. Nestled beneath flowering trees, it was peaceful, quiet.
There, I sat down, opened my book, and let the sunlight wash over me.
And deep within my cells, I could feel it—subtle, but real.
A slow, steady hum of power...
Growing.