Time passed strangely for Viren in his new life.
He was too young to walk or talk, yet his thoughts were far too sharp for a child. His body obeyed the rules of infancy—weak limbs, slow reactions—but his mind had not been reset. Memory, intellect, and instinct from his previous life remained intact, buried beneath newborn flesh.
And with each passing day, he adapted.
He listened to everything: the conversations between his parents, the quiet hum of mana in the walls, the patterns in the melodies sung by the caretakers. At first, it was simply observation. Then it became understanding.
He began to map this new world from the safety of his crib.
The Virelin estate was massive—a tower of light and stone that reached into clouds, surrounded by lands that shimmered with protective enchantments. In his earliest moments, Viren could sense those layers of magic: barriers tuned to bloodlines, detection webs, illusion veils, and something older that felt…watchful.
This wasn't just a wealthy home. It was a fortress.
He didn't know why that would be necessary—at least, not yet.
---
When he was awake, Viren listened and watched.
When he dreamed, however, things were different.
In his sleep, the world tilted. He wandered through a realm of fading echoes, memories and futures bleeding into each other like watercolors in the rain. The dreams were always vivid—too vivid.
Sometimes he saw fire. Sometimes he saw cities in the clouds, or great beasts made of starlight.
But one dream recurred more than the others.
A shadowed figure stood at the edge of a broken world, its face obscured by smoke and ash. Around it, silver threads dangled in the air—like the ones Viren had seen in the void before his rebirth. The figure would reach toward them, slowly… but before it could touch one, the dream would always end.
Each time, Viren would wake with a racing heart.
He knew what the dream meant. A reminder.
His choice had consequences.
---
His parents visited often, especially his mother, Lysara.
She would cradle him in her arms, her voice low and soft, singing songs woven with runes only the gifted could hear. Each note shimmered with power, threading small enchantments into the air.
But Viren noticed something strange.
The songs were more than lullabies.
They were tests.
Designed to measure his magical sensitivity. To see if he would react. If he would flare with instinct or resist the enchantments subconsciously.
They didn't expect him to notice. He did.
And more importantly—he pretended not to.
He didn't cry during the stimulus spells. He didn't reach for floating glyphs like an ordinary baby might. He only stared, curious, calm. Quietly cataloging everything.
---
The first time he felt something stir within him, he had just crossed into his third month of life.
Lysara had left behind a glowing glyph in the corner of the room—an idle light construct. It pulsed in a calming pattern, meant to soothe infants.
But Viren sensed something else.
An echo beneath the light. A second rhythm.
He reached for it—not with his hand, but with intent. Not even sure what he was doing. Just reaching.
And something inside him responded.
A silent click, like a key turning in a long-forgotten lock.
> [Devourflux: Dormant Potential Detected]
Status: Catalyzing]
His body tensed. Not with pain—but anticipation.
The glyph flickered. Then it changed. Its color split, refracted. Its pulse deepened into something almost musical.
Lysara entered the room seconds later and stopped in her tracks.
She stared at the construct.
Then at him.
"He altered the matrix," she whispered.
---
They didn't speak of it in front of him after that. But Viren could feel the difference.
Aurex visited more frequently. Quietly. Thoughtfully. He didn't coo or sing. He studied.
At one point, Viren watched him place a shielded relic near the crib—a stone fragment wrapped in nullsteel and encoded wards.
It was faint. Broken. But it carried traces of something ancient.
Most infants wouldn't react.
Viren did.
Not outwardly. But within, something opened.
> [Devourflux: Activated]
Target: Fractured Flame Core Residue
Effect: Absorption successful – Minor fire attunement and construct memory stored
Skill Fragment Acquired: Embershard Recall (Dormant)
There was no burst of light. No visible sign. Just the feeling of something new layering itself beneath his skin, like heat settling into his bones.
The hunger had a name now.
Devourflux.
It wasn't just absorption. It was deeper—an instinct to unmake and understand, to consume and remember.
The knowledge thrilled him.
But it also came with caution.
---
A week later, his father placed a glass filament near him—a delicate structure imbued with aetheric resonance. It was beautiful, fragile. Viren didn't touch it.
But he understood it.
And something within him wanted to do more than observe.
It wanted to create.
That night, in his dreams, he saw blueprints that didn't exist—circuits made of flame, spells wrapped around logic gates. He saw how things could fit, how different systems could be drawn together.
And when he woke, a second name pulsed in his thoughts.
> [Arcanoforge: Latent Trait Detected]
Status: Inert. Synchronization pending.
Requirements: Dual-source synthesis event
The hunger to absorb was only half of him.
The other half wanted to forge.
To rebuild.
To shape what was taken.
---
It happened for real during his fifth month.
A malfunctioning defense glyph—left behind by accident—began to flicker erratically in the nursery. It pulsed with stray mana and unbalanced force.
Too much longer, and it would overload.
The caretakers hadn't noticed.
But Viren had.
He focused—not on devouring it, but reshaping it. His will reached out, touching both the glyph and a nearby resonance orb.
For a moment, his vision blurred.
> [Arcanoforge: Initiated]
Source A: Overloaded Mana Glyph
Source B: Resonance Orb Shell
Output: Stabilized Feedback Core (Minor Grade)
A soft hum echoed through the room.
The two unstable parts melded—quietly, neatly. The unstable glyph fused into the orb's outer layer, and the dangerous pulse became a soft rhythm, like a heartbeat.
When Lysara returned and saw the orb glowing steadily beside her son, her face turned pale.
Aurex said nothing for a long while. Then:
"Has this ever happened before?"
"No," she replied. "Not at this age. Not with both abilities."
---
They didn't lock him away.
They didn't treat him like a threat.
But something changed.
Guards began to rotate through the hallway more often.
Protective wards were reinforced.
And his parents whispered more when they thought he couldn't understand.
---
One night, a stranger entered the estate.
Viren didn't see her—he felt her. Her presence was cold, careful. She wore the aura of someone who masked her intent behind pleasantries.
Aunt Virelle.
She called herself family.
But her smile never touched her eyes.
"Sometimes," she said to Aurex, "a child's future must be guided before it becomes dangerous."
"She is testing him," Lysara said quietly that evening.
"She's not the only one," Aurex replied.
---
That night, Viren dreamed again.
But this time, it was different.
He saw himself standing on a tower, older, taller—his eyes burning like eclipses, his hands wreathed in flame and circuitry.
He looked down at a world that trembled.
Not in fear.
In anticipation.
And from the sky above, a voice he remembered whispered again:
> "You chose the thread. Now weave your fate."
Viren didn't wake afraid.
He woke hungry.
Not for food.
For meaning.
For purpose.
For power.
And in the silence of the nursery, his bones hummed with Devourflux.
His thoughts shimmered with Arcanoforge.
And the world outside slowly began to take notice.