SUPREME MONARCH SYSTEM BIND SUCCESSFULLY!
Dorian stared wide-eyed at the continuous notifications flashing before him.
"What's happening? Supreme Monarch System?"
For some reason, that sounded way better than the former —Compensation System.
Seriously, who came up with that pathetic naming sense? What kind of grand cosmic power calls itself something that sounds like a refund policy?
And another thing—what in the bullocks was a system?
In his forty-plus years of miserable past life, Dorian had never heard of anything like this. Call him old-fashioned, but the only "systems" he'd ever known ran on mobiles or PCs. So what the hell was this? And why was one devouring another right inside his head?
A dozen questions ran through his mind, one after another.
Was he finally going crazy?
Just as he was about to spiral further down that confusion path, the screen in his view shifted again.
WELCOME HOST TO THE SUPREME MONARCH SYSTEM!
CLICK THE SUBSEQUENT TABS FOR MORE INFORMATION:
STATUS
TALENTS
BLOODLINE
SKILLS
ARTIFACTS
INVENTORY
QUESTS : 5
MAILS : 1
Dorian blinked, trying to make sense of the glowing words.
"What kind of sick joke is this?" he muttered internally. "Host? I'm a baby, for crying out loud. I can't even hold up my head!"
He wanted to laugh—or maybe cry—but his tiny lungs betrayed him with nothing more than a squeaky coo.
....
....
Niamh stirred the concoction in the pot for a few more minutes before nodding in satisfaction. She had never cooked anything for a baby before, but at least she'd managed to whip something together that might quiet its hunger for now. The rest could be worried about later.
She poured the mixture into a clean bowl from the cabinet to her right, took a spoon, and whispered a short prayer that the child would eat it. After bowing her head for a few seconds, she turned toward the tiny figure lying silently on the only bed in the room.
The baby was staring blankly into space, eyes unfocused and unblinking. For a creature that should be screaming from hunger, the stillness was eerie. The silence pressed between them, broken only by the faint sound of the baby's soft breathing.
I hope he's okay, she sighed silently.
"Here, little fella, I hope it's to your liking," she cooed, gently lifting the child who stared at her as though he could see right through her.
Dorian jerked back to awareness, suddenly being lifted from where he lay. Still dazed, he blinked up at the woman muttering softly to him. Niamh brought a spoon close to his mouth, and instinct took over, his lips opened, and the warm mixture slid down his throat.
It was sweet, but otherwise bland.
Then his tiny stomach growled like thunder.
Niamh burst out laughing. "So you were hungry after all!" she said, relief washing over her face.
Dorian didn't care what she thought—he was starving. He looked up, silently pleading for her to hurry up and feed him faster. But all that came out were adorable babbles.
Her eyes softened. That little sound tugged right at her heart. "There now," she murmured, spooning more of the warm mixture between his lips. Bit by bit, she fed him until his tiny belly rounded with fullness.
When he finally burped—loud and unapologetic—Niamh laughed again, the sound echoing in the small metal room.
"There you go, little fella," she chuckled, brushing a stray lock of silver hair from his forehead.
She untied his swaddle to make him more comfortable, but froze mid-motion.
A faint mark rested on the side of the baby's neck.
Her heart skipped. She knew that mark. Everyone did. It was the mark of an Omega.
The silence thickened. Her mind raced, and her heart burned with sudden fury and pity.
So that's why he was abandoned, she thought bitterly. Those bastards tossed him away just because of this?
Her arms tightened instinctively around the child. "You poor thing," she whispered, voice trembling. "Who could ever leave you out there to die?"
The baby stirred in her hold, pressing his face against her chest. Something inside Niamh cracked open. All her years of loneliness, all her quiet resentment toward the world—somehow it all poured out in that moment.
"I'll do better, little one," she whispered fiercely. "I'll keep you safe. I'll love you like my own."
The child squirmed softly, as if hearing her, and Niamh's resolve hardened into steel.
She loosened the rest of the swaddle and gasped. More markings traced his tiny back. Delicate, glowing faintly under the dim light. They shimmered like frost over moonlit glass.
Her eyes widened. Those weren't ordinary birthmarks. They were bloodline seals, symbols of power and nobility long forgotten in these parts.
And then, without knowing why, a single word slipped from her lips like an old memory resurfacing.
"Jade," she whispered.
It felt right. Precious, rare, resilient.
"I'll call you Jade," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. "My Jade."
Dorian—or rather, Jade—froze. The warmth in her voice reached into something he didn't even know was still alive inside him. That gaze of hers—pitying, protective, gentle—made his chest ache in a strange, itchy way.
He didn't know what that feeling was, but he didn't hate it.
If anything, he liked it.
His vision blurred as his eyes grew wet. Never in either of his lives had anyone looked at him like that. At that moment, he decided that he would love this woman and protect her, no matter what.
....
A little later, Niamh cleaned his soiled swaddle—apparently, he'd peed without even realizing.
Jade wanted to die from embarrassment. He, a grown man, had actually wet himself. How mortifying.
But there was nothing he could do, so he just lay there in the fresh, warm swaddle Niamh made from one of her clean sheets. At least now, alone for a while, he could finally think about that strange panel from earlier.
Supreme Monarch System, he called in his mind.
DING!
The previously shrunken blue light flared back into view.
Status, he thought.
DING!
Name: Jade
Level: 1
Experience: 12 / 50
Strength: 2
Agility: 4
Intelligence: 80
Stamina: 4
HP: 100
SP: —
MP: 100
Skill Points: —
---
Jade blinked at the panel. He could guess what most of it meant: Strength for physical power, Agility for speed, Stamina for endurance. HP probably stood for health points, or maybe vitality.
But MP? SP?, what were they? And why the hell was his Intelligence so high? Maybe it had something to do with his reincarnation, but who knew.
For now, he'd leave that mystery alone.
What caught his attention more were the other tabs. Talents, Bloodlines, Skills, Inventory, Quests. The names themselves oozed with mystery and power. He could feel his curiosity sparking, but he wasn't stupid. Better to wait until Niamh wasn't around before trying anything weird. He didn't want to scare away the only person who'd ever cared for him.
Once his tiny heartbeat steadied, he finally focused and thought the word:
Bloodline.
And what he saw… blew his tiny mind away.
.....