Void
Hellfire
To Exist
W-what the hell is this terrifying sensation...?
When I opened my eyes, all I could see was a pure white world. Then, little by little, my vision began to clear.
Where... am I? I tried to turn my head. I tried to move my hands. But my body wouldn't obey me.
"¡-----! ¡------, ------ - --- --------!"
As my vision returned, I saw a crowd of people rushing back and forth in a panic. A white-haired man was looking worriedly at a woman in front of him. That woman was...
In labor... is she?
I tried to speak. I tried to ask what was happening. But nothing responded. All I could produce were meaningless babbles. There was no doubt about it. I had lost control of my body.
Anyway, the moment the woman drank something, everything calmed down. Was that... alcohol? I wasn't sure, but her recovery was far too fast. Unnaturally fast.
The woman looked in my direction.
"¿-- ----?"
Wait... something's wrong. This isn't a hospital. It's quite a luxurious room. A massive sofa, curtains larger than the walls of my old house, and most notably, what appeared to be maids rushing in and out.
Why would someone who was in an accident be in a place like this? And more importantly... what language is this?
The woman stood up and lifted me as if it were nothing. I'm over 185 centimeters tall—this should be impossible.
That was the first time I could see my entire body, and I finally realized I had been reborn.
Tiny hands. Legs that wouldn't obey. And a body barely 50 centimeters long.
The birth had been difficult. The woman had lost a massive amount of blood and was extremely weakened.
How could she recover so quickly just by drinking that? Why do I still have my memories? If I were to be reborn, I should be a normal baby.
When I tried to think any further, I realized this small body couldn't endure prolonged analysis of language and circumstances, and I fell completely asleep.
No matter how much intelligence I have, this body has its limits. For now, I can only sleep. Observe and learn...
When I woke up, I was on an even larger bed, surrounded by the woman from before and someone who was probably my father.
The woman noticed I had woken up and slowly sat up.
"¿------, ------?"
From the woman's gesture of lifting her clothes and her tone, I gathered she was probably trying to breastfeed me.
I tried to resist, but this was quite awkward. However, as a baby, I needed to eat. And honestly, I didn't even know how to cry. I'd never even seen a baby in my entire life.
I should probably feel something (embarrassment, discomfort, anything).
But I feel nothing.
I can't even cry properly.
---
Six months had passed.
I had already learned quite a bit of this country's language. In my previous life, I was a polyglot, and this new brain—just a baby's brain—seemed to function remarkably well. I didn't know if it was because of my age or some other reason, and I didn't intend to think too deeply about it.
What was obvious was... I had been born into a wealthy family. Extremely wealthy. My room alone was larger than my entire house in my previous life. Still, what I couldn't understand was why, even now that I could crawl, I wasn't allowed to leave my room. And incidentally, the simple fact that I could move my own body brought me such... joy? Excitement? It was a completely new experience.
What I absolutely couldn't understand was that despite living in a mansion—no, it would be more accurate to call it a palace—there was no trace of electricity. The chandelier in my room was enormous, a polished metal monstrosity with countless candles burning. And somehow, every night, they would light themselves.
I didn't know if this was some new technology I was unaware of, but those flames were... far too real to be a trick.
Exploring the room was a somewhat detached, almost surreal experience. There were stuffed animals of all kinds perfectly arranged... which I was mindlessly throwing onto the floor.
Mom's stuffed animals...
I picked one up with both hands. It was beautiful, undoubtedly expensive. Probably worth more than the bed in my previous life's apartment.
Still, I couldn't understand why life had given me this opportunity. Wasn't my cycle already over? What about my "end"? Well... in programming, "end" doesn't necessarily mean "the end."
The room door burst open, and there stood my mother—Elara, as I'd inferred from the daily conversations I'd been hearing.
"Come on, my baby. Want to meet your uncles?"
I didn't resist being picked up. I just let it happen. I wanted to get out. No matter how spacious it was, being locked in a room without even a single book for so long was starting to suffocate me.
The journey to the courtyard was far too long. We passed through more than three corridors before arriving.
And when we got there, the garden stretched out for dozens of meters. In the center stood a monumental fountain crowned by a stone mermaid spouting water. The entire garden was enclosed by the building's structure.
"So this is little Darian..."
Ah... that's me. How I wish I could speak right now.
"Is the little heir of our house in a good mood?"
Heir? What are they talking about?
A woman approached and touched my face as if appraising me.
"He has the same red eyes as Grandfather... and a solid bone structure."
She paused.
"Yes... he'll be useful."
Useful? Useful for what?
Those aren't words you use for a grandchild. They're words you use for a tool.
"Elara, my daughter, has he shown signs yet?"
"He's... very observant, mother-in-law. And calm, very calm."
"At his age, he should be more..."
She gestures vaguely.
"...energetic."
"He's an old soul. I already explained that."
"Ah yes, since the Goddess Aetel has permitted it."
Goddess Aetel? Old souls? Do these people actually believe in that?
I stopped believing in God the day He abandoned me... but the living proof that old souls exist is me. Though, it could just be a coincidence.
After that visit—from who I now know is my grandmother—I was taken back to my room. This time, mother lay down on the bed with me, opened a book, and read aloud while pointing at the letters with her finger.
Why is mother so desperate to have her son learn so early? I'm only six months old.
In my previous life, I would have judged this behavior as excessive parental ambition and ignored it.
But I wasn't going to waste this opportunity.
The story itself wasn't particularly complex. It was about how "the Blessed Ones" defeated a tyrannical king who ruled with an iron fist and brought fear to the kingdom. Heroes versus villains. Good triumphs over evil.
But as mother turned the pages, pointing to each word with infinite patience, something strange happened. Whether it was the warmth of her arm wrapped around this small body, the gentle tone of her voice, or simply the fact that someone was taking the time to teach me something.
After that, I surrendered to the baby's body and fell asleep. I'm probably not that excited, but at least I can still follow mother's words... no, father's too.
The Stonehold family... the Kingdom of Aethel. Names I'd heard in conversations among the servants taking care of me. They don't mean anything to me right now... not yet.