Warmth.
Soft cloth against my skin.
The low creak of wood.
The distant call of morning birds.
These become the background soundtrack of my early months of life.
Time flows oddly in this fragile newborn body—days feel long, nights feel longer, and sleep comes in short, messy bursts. But little by little, the fog of rebirth lifts. Colors sharpen. Shapes make sense. Sounds become clearer.
I begin to understand this world, not through knowledge from my past life—but through quiet observation and the gentle rhythm of my parents' voices.
My mother's hands are always warm.
My father's footsteps always steady.
Their world—my world—is simple but strong.
Weeks pass. I grow.
Slowly.
But the System… helps.
Not in any overwhelming, broken, OP way. Not with massive stat gains or early abilities.
Just… subtle reinforcement.
Like a gentle hand guiding me.
I notice it first when I strengthen enough to hold my head up a little.
My father is carving wood near the doorway when he looks up and freezes.
"Love," he whispers, "come look at this…"
My mother, who is cooking herbs over the fire, wipes her hands and rushes over. Her eyes widen with awe.
"He's already lifting his head?"
Already.
Humans in this world are strong—stronger than humans from my old life.
But I'm not just human.
Still, I keep my expression (what little I can control of it) as neutral as possible. I tilt my head, wobbling a bit before gravity wins and my tiny neck gives out.
My mother's gasp is sharp.
"Oh! Careful, sweetheart—don't strain yourself."
As she scoops me up, I mentally whisper:
Status.
————————————
STATUS
————————————
Name: Lucifer
Energy: 3
— Measures vitality and stamina
Strength: 2
— Measures physical power
Speed: 2
— Measures movement and reaction speed
Will: 1
— Measures determination and mental fortitude
Mind: 2
— 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: ?????
————————————
A subtle rise.
A natural rise.
Energy from daily quests.
Strength from physical development.
Mind from growing awareness.
Nothing broken.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing suspicious.
Just growth.
I feel strangely proud.
My mother presses a kiss to my cheek. "He's so clever… he watches everything."
She isn't wrong.
I lie in her arms listening to every conversation, every detail they mention about the world.
"…Guild said the forest trembled again."
"…wolves were seen closer to the river…"
"…the adventurers from Blumund said they saw something odd in the canopy—like something watching them…"
"…it's not safe for children when the forest gets restless…"
I absorb it all.
They live in a small human village bordering the vast Monster Forest—known later as the Jura Forest. A place that will one day become Rimuru's territory. But now, it's wild and unpredictable, full of creatures that could crush a human village without much effort.
My father is cautious.
My mother is hopeful.
And I am…
Curious.
Very curious.
----- Two Months Later -----
I have grown accustomed to the rhythm of life here.
Mother sings while she cleans and cooks.
Father works with wood and tools, fixing broken fences and mending tools for villagers.
He often brings me along in a small cloth sling on his chest while he works outside.
The cold winter air brushes my cheeks, fresh and sharp. Father always tucks me in close to keep me warm.
"There you go, little one," he murmurs as I peer around with wide eyes. "Gotta see the world. Safely, though."
He points at the forest's distant edge.
"That's the Monster Forest. Dangerous place. But beautiful."
It is beautiful.
Dark emerald leaves swaying gently.
Birds circling overhead.
Mystery humming beneath the trees.
One day, the village elder came to speak with my father. I watch from inside my sling, pretending to be half-asleep.
"Monsters are moving again," the elder says, leaning heavily on his cane. "The forest doesn't churn like this unless something powerful stirs."
My father frowns. "We'll increase patrols."
The elder's eyes drift to me. "Your boy will grow in a turbulent era."
My father's hand instinctively covers me, protectively.
"He'll be safe."
The elder nods. "I hope so."
Later that night my mother returned with a basket of herbs she traded for in the village square. She sets it down, sighs, and then comes straight to me.
"How's my little angel?"
My father smiles softly. "He's curious as ever."
She scoops me up, pressing me firmly against her chest.
"Lucifer," she whispers, "you'll be walking before we know it."
I inspect her face—eyes glowing with affection, cheeks flushed from the cold.
My mother.
The word comes easier now.
Natural.
Right.
I snuggle into her. She melts instantly.
"There it is," she breathes. "That little cuddle… he really loves me."
Father laughs. "Of course he does."
He steps closer, tapping my tiny hand.
"Hey little guy, give us a smile."
I stare at him.
Then—almost unintentionally—my mouth curls slightly.
Barely a smile.
Barely anything.
My mother gasps. "He smiled! He smiled at you!"
My father's eyes go wide with delight. "He likes me!"
My heart clenches.
This… this is what a family is supposed to feel like.
-----
Some nights, neither of them sleeps well.
The forest trembles more often.
The wolves howl closer to the village.
And once—just once—I hear something massive moving beyond the trees. A deep tremor that makes the bowls on the shelf rattle gently.
My mother wakes instantly.
"…did you feel that?"
My father sits up, rubbing his temples. "Just the forest shifting. It happens."
"But this often?"
He hesitates before answering.
"No… but it will pass."
She pulls me closer to her chest, hugging me tightly.
"I won't let anything hurt him."
My father wraps his arm around her. "Neither will I."
I watch them through half-lidded eyes, comforted and warm in my blanket.
I trust them.
I trust the System.
I trust this new life.
----------
The next morning, while lying in my cradle, I whisper the command:
Status.
————————————
STATUS
————————————
Name: Lucifer
Energy: 5
— Measures vitality and stamina
Strength: 3
— Measures physical power
Speed: 3
— Measures movement and reaction speed
Will: 2
— Measures determination and mental fortitude
Mind: 3
— 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: ?????
————————————
The numbers rise steadily—not fast enough to be suspicious, not slow enough to frustrate. Perfect human growth. The System isn't manipulating anything. It's supporting, not replacing my physical development.
I smile internally.
This is exactly what a trustworthy system should be.
Everything in front of me feels real and earned.
No deus ex machina.
No broken power leaps.
No cheating.
Just growth.
Just… life.
-----Another Month Passes-----
My neck holds steady now. My vision is clearer. I can focus on objects and faces.
And I love watching my parents.
My mother laughs often. She hums as she cooks, sings while sweeping, and holds me close while she rests. Her warmth feels like a shield against the world.
My father works tirelessly—splitting logs, fixing tools, and helping neighbors. When he comes home, he always lifts me gently, brushing sawdust from his gloves before he touches me.
"There's my boy," he whispers every time.
And I look up at him with bright, golden eyes that soak in every detail.
These two…
they're everything to me now.
Everything I lost with Ani's death—everything broken in my last life—feels… lighter here.
Not gone.
But lighter.
-----Later that evening-----
One chilly evening, I sit in my mother's lap as she rocks gently in a wooden chair. The fire crackles softly.
My father sits at the table sharpening a small hunting knife.
They speak in low voices.
"You think it's the forest lord?" my mother murmurs.
Father shakes his head. "If something that strong stirred, the Guild would be in a panic."
"Then why is everything restless?"
He sighs. "It's been growing worse yearly. The forest is angry."
Her hand tightens around me instinctively.
"That doesn't bode well for children."
Father's voice softens. "He'll be trained. He'll grow strong. This is a world where strength keeps you alive. He'll learn."
My mother sighs but rests her cheek against my head.
"He's just a baby…"
I curl closer to her.
Warm. Protected. Loved.
My father smiles gently at the sight.
"That's why we'll raise him right."
Their voices fade into soft hums.
The fire glows.
And I drift in and out of sleep again.
This world is dangerous.
But for now…
I am safe.
Because all I need to do is wait.
Grow.
Listen.
And learn.
Days fold into one another like warm blankets stacked on a winter bed.
I don't know how much time has passed in numbers that matter to adults. Weeks? A few months? My sense of time is more rhythm than counting—daylight, voices, meals, warmth, sleep. Over and over. Never quite the same but always familiar.
My body changes slowly.
At first, all I can really do is stare and listen. Then, little by little, my fingers start responding when I want them to. My neck holds my head for longer each time before gravity wins. My eyes track movement more precisely. My hearing sharpens.
The world becomes bigger and sharper every day.
The System quietly tracks that growth.
One morning, I wake to the sound of rain tapping lightly against the roof. The air in the house feels a little cooler, the fire burning brighter in response. My mother stands near the window, watching the grey sky with a distant look in her eyes.
My father is gone—out early, as usual. Likely to speak with the Guild or help with the village fences.
She turns as I stir, her expression brightening instantly.
"There he is," she whispers. "Good morning, Lucifer."
Her voice alone would be enough to make this world feel worth staying in.
She crosses the room and leans over my cradle, tucking a stray corner of the blanket around me.
"Ready for another big day of doing absolutely nothing?"
If only she knew.
She slides her hands beneath me and lifts me gently, resting me against her shoulder. Her warmth seeps into me again, chasing away the chill of the rainy morning.
As she holds me, a faint chime hums at the edge of my mind.
Daily Quest Added: Move Your Body
Reward: +1 Strength
I blink.
Simple enough.
My mother rocks me slowly, humming a tune I've begun to recognize. It's not anything from Earth—no lullaby I ever heard before. It's a soft, meandering melody that sounds like it was born from this village, from this house, from her heart.
I wiggle slightly in her arms, testing how much I can move now without immediately tiring out.
Tiny arms. Tiny hands.
But they're mine.
And they're getting stronger.
She chuckles. "There you go. That's it. Stretch."
I move more intentionally—trying to lift my head off her shoulder, trying to push slightly against her chest, trying to move my legs. It's clumsy, more like twitching than anything else, but the effort is there.
Daily Quest Completed
Strength +1
Reward: Tiny Muscle Development Increase
A pleasant, subtle warmth spreads through my limbs.
My mother feels the change in tension and smiles, rubbing slow circles on my back.
"You're going to be a handful when you start crawling, aren't you?"
She carries me toward the table where a small bowl sits—half-filled with chopped vegetables she was preparing while I slept. She sets me down in her lap, securing me with one hand while she begins slicing again with the other.
I watch her work.
Her fingers are deft. The knife is worn, but she handles it with efficiency and care. Steam from the stew pot rises behind her, filling the room with the fragrance of onions and herbs.
"Your father will be hungry when he comes back," she murmurs absentmindedly. "He always forgets to eat enough when he's busy."
Busy doing what?
Checking the forest? Helping the Guild? Making sure monsters don't wander too close?
I don't know yet.
I only know that every time he leaves, he comes back smelling like cold air, wood, and the faint metallic tang of wet steel.
He always smiles when he walks through the door… but there's a tension in his shoulders that never quite disappears.
My mother shifts me a little higher.
"You're watching again," she says softly. "You like watching people work, hm?"
I do.
Watching means learning.
And learning is survival.
I try to lift my hand toward the table—toward the glinting knife, toward the vegetables, toward anything I can actually interact with.
My fingers brush the edge of the table and slide away.
Not yet.
My mother gasps anyway. "Did you see that? You're reaching now!"
She laughs, delighted, and kisses my forehead. "Such a clever boy."
A second notification appears softly in my mind.
Daily Quest Added: Reach For an Object
Reward: +1 Mind
Well.
If the System insists.
I focus.
I try again.
This time, I slowly wiggle until my arm drags across her sleeve and toward the table edge. It's clumsy, awkward, uneven. But my fingertips just barely hook over the rough wood grain.
Daily Quest Completed
Mind +1
Reward: Small Coordination Increase
My hand doesn't slide off this time. It stays.
Shaky, but steady.
My mother's breath hitches. "Look at you…"
She calls softly toward the door, even though no one is there yet.
"He's getting stronger every day…"
Her words are for my father, but they sink into me too.
Stronger every day.
Slowly. Naturally.
With a gentle push from the System, but never in a way that feels wrong.
I don't question it.
I don't doubt it.
I trust it.
The door opens a while later with a creak and a gust of cool, damp air.
"I'm home," my father calls.
He steps inside, shaking raindrops from his hair and cloak. His boots thud softly against the wood as he pulls them off, setting them neatly by the door.
My mother brightens. "Welcome back."
He smiles tiredly and moves toward us. When he sees my hand still resting on the table edge, he stops mid-step.
"Did he…?"
"He reached for it," my mother announces proudly. "All on his own."
His eyes light up. He circles the table and leans in close, planting a kiss on my forehead.
"Well now," he says, "aren't you something?"
Something.
This way they speak about my small progress—like it's incredible—makes every effort feel worthwhile.
My father sits at the table, and my mother stands to ladle stew into a bowl for him. She keeps me in her arms with practiced ease, balancing me against her hip.
"How is the forest?" she asks quietly.
He exhales, running a hand through his damp hair.
"Restless," he admits. "Tracks everywhere. Wolves. Boars. Even a few things I didn't recognize."
She stiffens. "…dangerous?"
He pauses, choosing his words.
"Not yet. Not here," he says. "But I don't like it. The Guild says another group of adventurers is coming to survey the area soon."
Adventurers.
The word sends a small shiver of interest through me.
My mother's brow furrows. "Will you go with them?"
He shakes his head. "They're higher-ranked than me. They'll handle the deeper parts. I'll do what I always do—keep an eye on things from the outskirts. Make sure trouble doesn't get too close."
She relaxes slightly at that.
"Good," she says, placing the bowl in front of him. "I don't want you taking unnecessary risks."
"Risks are how we get paid," he jokes weakly, then sobers when she doesn't laugh. "I'll be careful. I promise."
He digs into his meal, and between bites, he glances at me again.
"When he's older," he says, "I'll teach him how to track."
My mother sighs. "I'd rather he didn't need to."
"In this world, everyone needs to," he replies gently. "Better to learn early."
Her gaze drifts down to me. Her fingers stroke my cheek.
"He'll learn," she murmurs. "But I'd like him to know joy before worry."
Joy before worry.
For a moment, I stop trying to understand anything and just… exist.
My father eats.
My mother hums.
The stew bubbles softly in the pot.
Rain patters on the roof.
Small. Simple. Perfect.
That night, my parents both fall asleep near the fire.
My mother lies on a pallet with me curled against her chest. My father is on his side on a mat nearby, one hand outstretched toward us as if even in his sleep he's trying to stay between us and the door.
I wake in the middle of the night, staring at the flickering embers.
The silence feels thicker now. The rain has stopped. The wind is still.
Far away—from beyond the trees—I hear something howl. Long. Low. Powerful.
A shiver goes through my tiny body, but my mother's arms tighten around me even in sleep, and the fear dissolves.
Protected.
Safe.
For now.
I whisper mentally.
Status.
————————————
STATUS
————————————
Name: Lucifer
Energy: 6
— Measures vitality and stamina
Strength: 4
— Measures physical power
Speed: 3
— Measures movement and reaction speed
Will: 2
— Measures determination and mental fortitude
Mind: 4
— 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: ?????
————————————
Slight improvements.
Natural. Earned.
Each number is another step away from helplessness. Another inch of distance between this life and the vulnerability of my last.
I let the window fade, content.
The howl echoes again, slightly closer.
My father's hand twitches toward the knife near his bedroll. He doesn't wake fully, but his body remembers the possibility of danger in every sound.
My mother's breathing stays steady. Her heartbeat remains strong against my chest.
I close my eyes and match my breathing to theirs.
The next day, my mother places me on a thick blanket on the floor for the first time instead of holding me.
"All right, little one," she says, smiling. "Let's see what you do when we give you space."
The wooden floor feels cooler through the blanket. The room suddenly looks enormous from this angle—ceiling high above, table legs towering, fire crackling at eye level.
She sits beside me, hands splayed out, ready to catch me if anything goes wrong.
Her face fills my field of vision—soft brown eyes, a small smile.
"You can try," she encourages. "Just a little."
As if responding, another notification appears faintly.
Daily Quest Added: Roll Over
Reward: +1 Speed
Of course.
I steel myself internally, then try to move.
It's… embarrassingly hard.
My arm flails. My leg jerks. My head lolls to one side. For a full thirty seconds, I look like a fish stranded on shore.
My mother laughs—not cruelly, but fondly.
"You're trying so hard…"
So I keep trying.
I rock my body sideways, using the tiny momentum I can muster. The blanket bunches up under my shoulder. Gravity does the rest.
I flop clumsily onto my side.
Daily Quest Completed
Speed +1
Reward: Slight Balance Increase
For a moment, I lie there, stunned by my own success.
Then my mother scoops me up, showering my face with kisses.
"You did it! You rolled!" she beams. "You clever, clever boy!"
The praise sends a strange warmth through me that has nothing to do with System rewards.
Being praised just for trying…
it's new.
Comforting.
Addictive, in a way that doesn't feel toxic.
I want to do more.
But my body reminds me of its limits. My muscles tremble. My breathing grows shallow. My eyelids droop.
My mother chuckles softly. "There, there. That's enough work for one day."
She lifts me against her chest.
"You can conquer the world later," she whispers. "For now, you just need to grow."
Her heartbeat thumps steady under my ear. My fingers curl into the fabric of her dress.
Grow.
She keeps saying that word. So does my father. So does the System, in its own mechanical way.
For the first time, growing doesn't feel like a desperate scramble to escape rock bottom. It doesn't feel like a race against tragedy.
It feels… natural.
Supported.
Like this is what I was meant to do all along.
As the day ends, the sky outside the window shifts from soft blue to vibrant orange to deep, velvety indigo.
My father returns again, a bit dirtier than the day before. Mud stains his boots. His shirt is torn slightly at one sleeve.
My mother sees it immediately.
"What happened?" she demands.
He waves a hand. "Just a stubhorn boar. Nothing serious. The patrol took care of it."
She narrows her eyes. "You're not allowed to be 'nothing serious' anymore. Not when he needs you."
He glances at me, then lowers his head slightly.
"You're right," he concedes, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll be more careful."
He looks at me again, and something quietly resolute settles behind his eyes.
"I want to see you grow up, little one."
I meet his gaze, golden eyes staring into brown.
I can't speak.
I can't promise anything.
But I can try.
And the System—the thing I once saw glitching at the edge of death—now stands by my side like a silent, steadfast companion.
Trustworthy.
Supportive.
Clear.
No secrets I need to understand yet. No reasons to doubt.
Just a simple directive.
Wait.
Grow.
Live.
So I do.