Chapter 8: Control, Chaos, and Karma Points
Yesterday… yeah, that was a ride.
I died. Reincarnated. As a baby.
Even the goddess who tossed us here acted like she was rushing a deadline. No monologues, no emotional send-off. Just shoved us through the celestial backdoor like we were overdue library books. And then—bam!—we were in baby bodies with diapers, drool, and a system that could probably conquer planets if we gave it half a chance.
From what I remember in all those novels—reincarnation usually involves a scene. Maybe a mysterious old man? A tearful goodbye? Some tragic build-up? Not here. We barely got a line. An angel showed up, said, "Here's your powers," and moved on like she had another dozen timelines to babysit.
Also, can we talk about how ridiculous it is that these so-called "powerful cultivators" can't suppress their own energy? One day in, and I already figured out how to keep the leak inside my core. Tiny control, sure—but control. And these adults? They're leaking like broken faucets in a mana factory. How is that even possible?
Anyway, I spent the last twenty hours being fed, wiped, and sung lullabies by well-meaning maids while I tried to not go insane. Mostly, I cultivated. Partly, I thought.
With no window in this oversized crib cell, I guessed it was morning. Or close. My body system clock said approximately 20 hours since I last opened my eyes, so I decided to say good morning.
Arthur von Solmere: Good morning, everyone.
As if waiting for someone to break the silence, our private group chat exploded into a full-on baby message war. From sleepy emojis to aggressive "feed me" memes, it was chaos.
Vireya (of course) stepped in with the real questions. Ones we all had but were too lazy or distracted to ask.
Vireya: Why did the goddess shove us like that? Also, why are adults so bad at energy control?
The System answered, in its usual emotionless wall-of-text way. But to summarize:
Our souls were yanked from the River of Samsara, which basically meant we were about to dissolve. The goddess gave us a way out—after getting our consent.
Adults lack control because they never had real cultivation techniques. 10,000 years ago, cultivators kept secrets to themselves. Then came the Zanfacs—creatures that devoured energy indiscriminately. When they arrived, nearly everything was lost: techniques, manuals, legacies—all stored in space tools that the Zanfacs devoured like magical candy.
The survivors were left with brute-force methods: shove monster cores into spirits, craft formations with external energy, or inject power into weapons. It worked, sort of, but it was clumsy and dangerous. Only forging and alchemy survived thanks to material-based legacy preservation.
So, in short, these "powerful adults" are wielding power like toddlers with loaded crossbows.
Then Lysandra—brilliantly devious as always—dropped her bomb:
Lysandra: Why don't we "buy" a technique from the system, say we made it, and sell it? Double profit—money and karma.
Honestly? Genius. But the System quickly rained on our parade.
System: You may sell purchased techniques. However, karma generated will be tied to me. You may receive 1% or less. Creation is recommended for full karma yield.
Of course. Figures. Divine capitalism at its finest.
Ryoto asked the next logical question: Why can't the people of this world just make their own techniques, then?
The answer?
Because they can't see what we can.
Normal people feel their cores like we feel our heartbeat. Vague. Dull. Hidden deep. They don't even know what energy paths (veins) look like, let alone how to manipulate them. All they can do is summon their spirit and brute-force power through it.
They require guidance to feel their cores and veins—something cultivation techniques provide, just like it did for us.
We can route energy through our veins and spirit. Two channels. Double the potential. And with the System, we can craft techniques that might make even the old cultivators from 10,000 years ago raise an eyebrow.
Kael, bless his soul, then asked the most important question of the morning:
Kael: Can we get an anime subscription?
The System, cold as always, responded:
System: No. There is no anime in the database. Further questions unrelated to function will require karma points. 100 karma for each question. Answers will charge additional karma based on the worth of knowledge.
There was a moment of stunned silence in the chat.
And then chaos.
Everyone immediately turned on Kael's poor little digital icon, unleashing a brutal wave of scolding and sarcasm. Even Vireya called him "Dragon Brain." Kyoto sent baby emojis with flames and swords. Brannor just roared in all caps.
I sighed. No one asked another question after that—too busy saving karma for what mattered. Like awakening our dormant spirits.
---
And so… time passed.
Two and a half years, to be precise.
Not that it was particularly exciting. Most of it was filled with cultivation, baby books, and existential boredom.
Kael's parents visited two months after we arrived. They played with him for a day, ruffled his hair, and left. Garron, his father, muttered something about everyone bullying him and how "They all came together to take my cloak, and now I only get to see my child once a month."
After that, all of us were visited by our parents at one point or another. Usually, they stayed for a day, us wrapped in that cloak—played with us, held us, and left again, swept away by duties, politics, or something else.
At age one, parents finally lifted our confinement. We were allowed out of our cribs and into designated playrooms or gardens. Not that there was much "playing" going on. Most of us requested books and tutors—disguised as baby-friendly maids, of course.
We learned fast. Too fast for normal toddlers, but our families chalked it up to "genius bloodlines" or "blessings of fate."
We devoured information.
The world we lived in was massive. Over 50 billion humans spread across the continent. And that's just humans. Other races included elves, dwarves, beastmen, genasi, angels, and demons—each with their own domains, continents, powers, and secrets.
We also learned the Zanfac War had ended just two years before we reincarnated which spanned over 10 years and they faced multiple wars before that but it was all boring history.
Zanfacs came through Gates—portals from who-knows-where, or spawned inside the world through dungeons. When a major Gate opened, entire armies marched in to stop them. If the Gate shattered, Zanfacs would pour into the world like a flood of spiritual locusts—devouring beasts, monsters, even people. Worse, when scattered, they evolved and multiplied like insects. If not eradicated completely, they became exponentially harder to kill.
That was the state of the world.
And here we were—babies with mythical spirits and a system capable of reshaping destiny.