Warmth wraps around me like a cocoon—thick, enveloping, and impossibly soft. It feels nothing like the harsh, sterile chill of a hospital bed or the cold leather of my BMW's seat. This is different. Natural. Warm like a hearth fire after a long winter day.
A steady heartbeat pulses beneath my cheek.
Not my own.
My thoughts drift sluggishly in circles, unable to connect fully, like my mind is trying to use a program meant for a completely different operating system. There's no sense of my limbs beyond vague pressure and tingling. My fingers feel like ideas instead of physical things.
Then memory crashes in.
Ani's peaceful face in the passenger seat.
Her messy blonde hair covering one eye.
The interview.
The green light.
The truck ignoring its red.
My scream: "ANI!"
The world twisting.
Glass exploding.
The System glitching—
Emergency override engaged
67% of core modules unresponsive
goodbye
Then… nothing.
My breath stutters as the memory hits.
But then, through the overwhelming fog, a voice breaks—the softest thing I've ever heard.
"…love… look. He opened his eyes."
It isn't Ani.
It isn't anyone I know.
It's warm. Soft. Trembling.
My eyelids flutter open, vision swimming in and out of focus like ripples on disturbed water. At first, everything is color and light without meaning. Then shapes begin to settle. The ceiling overhead is made of wooden beams—darkened by smoke, uneven, hand-cut.
Everything looks huge.
Because I'm tiny.
A shadow leans over me. As my vision clears, a woman's face slowly comes into focus. She has long auburn hair tied loosely behind her shoulders, stray curls falling down the sides of her face. Her skin glows in the firelight—warm, soft, dotted with light freckles.
Her eyes—deep brown and shimmering with tears—study me with so much love I nearly forget how to breathe.
"Oh… hello there," she whispers. "He's so awake."
Another figure leans into view—a man with broad shoulders, sun-browned skin, and hands roughened from labor. His hair is messy, probably from stress and excitement. But his eyes—soft and warm—are on me alone.
He touches my cheek with a callused thumb so gently it almost startles me.
"Golden eyes," he murmurs. "Just like the old legends…"
Golden.
Right.
Of course.
My eyes were golden in my last life.
Ani always teased me about them.
I want to speak. I want to ask, Where am I? What happened? Where is Ani?
But the only sound I make is a soft, pitiful coo.
My new mother stifles a joyous laugh.
"He's already trying to talk."
My father chuckles. "Strong set of lungs on him."
Before I can react further, a gentle chime hums inside my mind—like a whisper carried on a breeze.
Daily Quest Added: Drink Milk
Reward: +1 Energy
My eyes widen—well, widen as much as a newborn's can.
The System… it's here.
Not broken. Not screaming errors. Not spitting corrupted lines.
Just… normal.
I barely have time to process it before my mother shifts me, guiding me carefully toward her chest. Instinct hits before thought. I begin nursing.
Daily Quest Completed
Energy +1
Reward: Tiny Stamina Increase
Warmth spreads through me again—gentler than the last, settling in my limbs and easing a tension I didn't even realize I had.
My mother exhales, wiping sweat from her brow.
"There you go. Hungry little one."
My father leans close, eyes shining with pride.
"Healthy hunger. Good sign."
As they talk, a quiet curiosity builds inside me. A tug from the System—the familiar urge to look, to examine, to understand.
I focus mentally.
Status.
The world dims, a pale-blue interface blooming softly across my vision—clear and crisp, not corrupted in the slightest.
————————————
STATUS
————————————
Name: Lucifer
Energy: 1
— Measures vitality and stamina
Strength: 1
— Measures physical power
Speed: 1
— Measures movement and reaction speed
Will: 1
— Measures determination and mental fortitude
Mind: 1
— Measures cognition, perception, and magical capacity
Dominion: 0%
— Permanently increases all stats by this number as a percent
Resonance: 0%
— Description Blocked
[Blank Cards: 2]
Skills: None
Locked Skill: ?????
————————————
I drink in every line.
Energy: 1
Makes sense. I'm tiny. Weak. A newborn.
Strength: 1
I can't even lift my head. Reasonable.
Speed: 1
My limbs are basically overcooked noodles.
Will: 1
Feels like an insult, but newborn brain equals newborn stats.
Mind: 1
Somewhere deep inside, my adult thoughts are screaming, but the brain controlling them is as squishy as wet bread.
Dominion: 0%
The description is clear:
"Permanently increases all stats by this number as a percent."
Simple. Logical. Late-game scaling mechanic.
Resonance: 0%
Description Blocked.
I don't feel uneasy about it.
Systems hide late-game info all the time.
I scroll mentally.
[Blank Cards: 2]
Two blank cards.
My pulse quickens—a strange sensation in a newborn body. These are powerful. Rare. A mechanic that could define entire worlds.
But I have no context yet. And the System hasn't explained their use.
So I store my excitement away for later.
At the bottom—
Locked Skill: ?????
Typical System stuff.
Probably a future awakening.
The interface fades with a blink.
My mother shifts, exhaustion pulling at her features. She's beautiful, in the softest way—gentle eyes, warm skin, the faint flush of exertion still lingering. She cradles me with loving familiarity.
My father sits by her side, brushing her hair back.
"You did wonderfully," he whispers. "He's perfect."
Her eyes soften. She leans her cheek against his shoulder.
"He'll grow strong. I can feel it."
Grow strong.
I feel a twisting ache deep inside—a fragile tether of hope woven through grief I'm too small to express.
My mother gently lifts me into a wooden cradle. It's hand-carved, smooth, polished with care. Soft cloth lines the inside.
The house around me is small but cozy.
Three rooms at most.
The main area glows with firelight.
Warm fragrances of herbs and simmering broth linger in the air.
My father moves quietly, picking up towels and bowls, cleaning the remnants of childbirth with practiced care.
He glances toward the shuttered window.
"I'll check the forest tomorrow," he says softly. "The Guild said monsters are creeping closer."
My mother stiffens. "Closer than usual?"
"Close enough to worry."
Her hand reaches into the cradle, brushing my cheek softly. "We have to be careful. Especially now."
Guild.
Monsters.
Forest.
Pieces align.
This is the world of Reincarnated as a Slime.
Before Rimuru.
Before everything stabilizes.
Before Tempest.
Before Demon Lords unite.
Before peace.
And I'm born into a human village at the forest's edge, surrounded by threats humans can't see coming.
My mother rests her palm lightly on my chest.
"He'll be safe," she whispers. "We'll protect him."
Something stings behind my eyes.
Protection.
Love.
Warmth.
Ani and I never had this.
Not truly.
My father enters the room again, humming softly as he pours warm water into a wooden bowl. He washes his hands, then looks at me with a quiet smile.
"He's watching everything."
My mother laughs tiredly. "He's curious."
He kneels beside the cradle and strokes my tiny hand with his thumb.
"Well… this world is worth seeing."
My mother nods, eyes soft.
"We'll show it to him. The good parts."
My eyes drift, heavy with exhaustion. My body fights the weight, wanting to listen, to observe, to absorb everything.
But I'm only a newborn.
Tiny.
Weak.
Sleepy.
My eyelids close—
—just as a final notification appears, gentle and small.
Main Quest Chain Started
Part 1: Wait
Reward Upon Chain Completion: +1 Blank Card
Wait.
Just wait.
That feels… nice.
Comfortable.
Safe.
I drift into sleep as warmth blankets me again.
Warm darkness settles over me like a soft blanket, but it doesn't last long. My sleep is shallow—more like drifting on warm water than sinking into real rest. My ears twitch at the faint crackling of the fire nearby, my tiny body subtly registering the shift from arms to cradle.
I drift awake again minutes—or hours—later. Time feels slippery and unreliable in this new form. My vision is fuzzy at first, the world nothing but smudges of amber and brown. But as my newborn eyes adjust, the shapes become clearer.
I see the glow of the fire dancing across the wooden ceiling.
I hear soft voices murmuring nearby.
I smell something cooking—savory, rich, and warm.
My parents are talking.
"…we'll manage," my mother whispers. "We always have."
Her voice is quieter now, softened by exhaustion but still warm. She sits beside my cradle, leaning against the wooden frame. A blanket rests across her shoulders. Despite her fatigue, her eyes keep drifting back toward me—as if checking to make sure I'm still real. Still alive.
My father stands near the firepit, stirring a clay pot hung above a bed of crackling embers. The stew inside sends up soft curls of fragrant steam. He looks tired too—dark circles forming under his eyes—but his movements carry the quiet steadiness of someone used to hard work.
He glances toward her. "I'll patrol tomorrow. Ask the Guild for updates. If monsters are really shifting near the forest again…"
My mother's expression tightens. "How close?"
He hesitates.
"Close enough that the Guild wants scouts. Not enough to panic the villagers."
Her shoulders sag in relief, but worry still flutters in her eyes.
"The forest has always been restless," she murmurs. "But this year especially."
He nods slowly. "A few families said they felt tremors beneath their feet. Only faint ones, but…"
His gaze shifts to me. "We just need to be careful. For him."
The thought that these two strangers—these two kind, exhausted, hard-working people—already love me enough to change their routines for my safety strikes something deep in my chest.
Something fragile.
Something I didn't know was starving until now.
My mother reaches down and lightly strokes my cheek with her thumb. Her skin is warm, her touch light as a butterfly landing on a leaf.
"Lucifer… my little boy… you're awake again?"
My eyes blink up at her, and she laughs softly, leaning closer until her auburn hair frames her face like a warm curtain around us.
"So curious already," she whispers.
Father turns too, smiling as he wipes his hands on a cloth.
"He opened those eyes again, didn't he? Like he's studying the world."
"He is," she insists, her tone somewhere between amused and proud. "He's watching everything."
Of course I am.
I'm in a world filled with monsters, magic, and future crises I don't yet understand.
I am a newborn with a System that—somehow—feels perfectly trustworthy and clear.
But they don't know that.
They just see a baby staring too intently.
My father steps closer to the cradle, leaning over it with a thoughtful hum.
"You know," he says lightly, "the wise women say golden eyes are a sign."
"A sign?" my mother echoes.
"That the child will walk a path of greatness or danger."
She scoffs-playfully. "All children walk paths of danger in this world."
He laughs at that, low and warm.
"Well, let's hope our boy leans toward greatness then."
My tiny fingers curl instinctively.
A reflex I didn't know I had.
My mother sees it and gasps softly. "He grabbed his blanket!"
"A strong grip," my father comments, grinning. "A promising start."
They both laugh, and the sound fills the small house with a warmth that makes my chest tighten again.
In my past life, Ani and I never had this kind of atmosphere.
We had a tired older brother trying too hard and a younger sister doing her best to stay strong.
We had survival, not comfort.
Responsibility, not ease.
Here…
I am simply loved.
My eyes drift, taking in more of the home I've been reborn into.
The house is humble—a three-room space built from thick, carefully fitted logs. A small window lets in a thread of cold morning air. The fire pit is built into a stone-lined corner, its heat spreading gently through the room. A wooden table, clearly handmade, stands against the wall with two chairs pulled close.
Simple.
Rustic.
Alive.
This is very clearly the early era of this world—the age before Rimuru, before the establishment of alliances and peace. A time when humans still fear the forest's depths and monsters roam freely near settlements.
My father places a lid on the clay pot and wipes his brow.
"We'll save some for you when you're older, little one," he jokes to me.
My mother laughs. "He can't even hold his head up—don't make promises you can't keep."
He grins. "He'll grow fast. I can feel it."
Grow.
The word resonates with something deep inside me.
Because this time…
I'm going to grow properly.
I'm going to develop in a world where the System actively supports me—not burdens me.
And because I know nothing of the deeper dangers, I have no fear, only curiosity.
Complete trust in the System.
A sense of safety I've never known.
My mother brushes her hand gently over my chest, and I lean into the contact instinctively.
She smiles. "See? He knows I'm his mother."
My father sits beside her, leaning in close. "He does. Of course he does."
Silence settles, warm and peaceful. A small bubble of quiet life in a world that is anything but peaceful outside these walls.
After a few minutes, my father's expression shifts slightly—thoughtful.
"You know," he says quietly, "I want to teach him everything. How to chop wood. How to fish in the stream. How to recognize monster tracks."
My mother nudges him. "He's a newborn."
"I know," he laughs softly, "but someday."
"Someday," she agrees.
Their eyes meet, sharing a future neither of them can imagine yet. One filled with growing a boy who will one day wield unimaginable power.
But right now, all they know is that he's tiny. Fragile. Precious.
Me.
My father suddenly leans back, stretching with a groan.
"I should check the yard," he murmurs. "Clear some snow before it hardens."
My mother nods. "Be careful. The ground is slick."
He stands and walks toward the door, pulling on worn boots. Before stepping out, he pauses at my cradle.
He touches my cheek again, his hand warm.
"Sleep well, Lucifer. Grow strong for your mother."
He moves to kiss her forehead, then slips outside into the cold morning.
A gust of winter air follows him briefly before the wooden door closes behind.
My mother shifts, rubbing her temples. Her eyes droop with exhaustion. She tries to stay awake—watching me, humming softly—but the gentle exhaustion of childbirth pulls at her too strongly.
After a few quiet minutes, her head falls against the cradle's edge and she drifts into a light doze, her fingers curled protectively toward my hand.
The room becomes still.
Fire crackles.
Wind whistles softly through the small gaps in the window frame.
The distant sound of my father shoveling snow-muted but steady—echoes faintly.
I lay quietly in my cradle, eyes half-lidded, letting the simple moment envelop me.
For the first time in two lives…
I feel safe.
A soft chime suddenly hums at the edge of my mind—not sharp, not alarming. Just informative.
Main Quest Chain Started
Part 1: Wait
Reward Upon Chain Completion: +1 Blank Card
Wait.
Just wait.
I don't know what the System's long-term goals are yet.
But right now, it feels perfectly reasonable.
Perfectly safe.
Perfectly trustworthy.
A child must crawl before he can walk.
I can do that.
My breathing evens.
My tiny hand relaxes.
My eyelids drift lower.
My mother's steady breathing joins mine—a gentle lullaby of sorts.
The world is vast, dangerous, magical.
But right now…
All I need to do is wait.
Grow.
Learn.
And for the first time in my existence…
I let myself sleep without fear.