It was freezing. Bright light stabbed at my eyes, and some giant was holding me upside down by my ankles.
I tried to complain. "Hey, put me down!" But the only sound that came out of my mouth was a loud, pathetic wail.
A deep voice echoed above me. It definitely wasn't English. I had no idea what they were saying.
"Gora-tah, vrenn," the giant said. The vibrations rattled my tiny chest.
"Sola... sola, min," a softer voice replied.
Everything was blurry. Someone wrapped me in a scratchy cloth and handed me over to someone else. I blinked a few times to clear my vision. The blurry shape in front of me finally turned into a face.
It was a woman. She looked completely exhausted. Sweat plastered her brown hair to her forehead, but she was smiling. She looked down at me.
"Lena." She pointed to herself. "Lena."
Okay. Context clues. That was her name, or mama in this language. She was Lena.
A man leaned in next. He had a scruffy beard and smelled like dirt. He looked like a guy who worked a hard manual labor job, but he had gentle eyes. He asked Lena a question.
"Kala ven dor?"
Lena looked at me. She brushed her thumb over my cheek and whispered a single word.
"Rowan."
The man repeated it. "Rowan."
Rowan. I stopped crying. The language was complete gibberish, but I understood that much. Rowan. It wasn't a bad name. It sounded normal enough. It definitely beat getting stuck with some edgy fantasy name like Darkbringer.
Then the shock wore off, and I got a good look at my surroundings. I stared up at the wooden beams on the ceiling. Candles flickered in iron holders on the walls. The window didn't even have glass, just wooden shutters.
My tiny heart started to hammer in my chest.
Wooden beams? Candles? No electricity? I looked at their clothes. They wore rough tunics. There wasn't a zipper anywhere.
Oh, crap, I thought. Don't tell me I got reincarnated into Odengarde. I hadn't even read the patch notes for the new game yet.
I started to panic. Odengarde wasn't some fun, lighthearted RPG. The setting was completely terrifying. It was a dark fantasy world. Sure, there were noble heroes out there somewhere, but literally everything else existed just to kill you. Plagues, wars, angry dragons, and ancient curses were a daily occurrence.
I can't deal with this crap! I screamed internally. I'm a chemistry major! I don't know how to use a sword! I just wanted to play the sequel, not actually live in it!
"Shh, shh, Rowan. Sola, sola."
She wanted me to calm down. Was she serious? How could I relax when a pack of monsters might kick down our door at any second?
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The first few weeks were a blur of gray light and muffled noises. I knew I used to be Julian. I knew I used to be a chemistry student who memorized reaction mechanisms. But my new brain couldn't process any of it.
I just lay there for hours and stared at a flickering orange glow. A candle, I eventually realized. I listened to the sounds of people moving around me. They said things like "Le-na" and "Rey-nan." I had no idea what they meant. I just learned that one sound meant food and another meant someone was going to pick me up.
It took a whole month for my past memories to fully surface.
I died, I realized one afternoon as I stared at the wooden ceiling. I actually died.
Panic hit me right then. I didn't scream, mostly because my tiny lungs couldn't handle it. I just felt trapped. I was small, and in a fantasy world, that made me completely vulnerable.
Think. You got hit by a truck and died. There has to be some kind of cheat skill. Where is it?
I closed my eyes. I ignored the scratchy wool blanket and the smell of woodsmoke. Status, I thought as hard as I could.
Nothing happened.
Character Sheet? Attributes? Level?
I waited for a familiar ping. I expected a blue window to pop up in my vision with a list of stats. I got a headache from squinting instead.
Maybe it was a voice command. I opened my mouth and tried to say "Menu."
"Mmm... guuh," I croaked.
Lena looked over from the fireplace. She said something in that language I still didn't understand. She clearly thought I was just being cute.
Are you kidding me? There really is nothing? Give me a freakin' break!
The reality of my situation finally set in. There was no screen. There was no AI voice in my head. I didn't even get a beginner's item box. I was a chemistry major who couldn't remember basic formulas without a textbook. Now I was stuck in a pre-industrial world in a body that couldn't even roll over.
I'm just a baby, I realized in horror. I'm a normal, level-zero baby.
I let out a long breath. I didn't have a cheat skill, and I didn't have a game system to help me. I had a long, miserable road ahead of me before I could even hold a spoon, let alone a sword.
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Months passed. I quickly realized two things.
First, babies were completely useless. I had the mind of a twenty-year-old, but my bladder control was nonexistent. It was humiliating.
Second, my life wasn't in immediate danger. There were no monsters or dragons outside. Just a whole lot of turnips.
By the time I hit six months, the fog in my head cleared up enough for me to understand the language. It wasn't English, but my infant brain adapted fast. I also learned our house was loud.
I had siblings.
Ralph was the oldest. He was about five. He ran around the house constantly and tried to carry water buckets that were way too heavy for him. He looked at me like I was some weird bug that might bite.
My sister Lianne was two. She was a total menace. She just walked around, fell over, and laughed. Her favorite hobby was poking my face while I tried to sleep.
"Rowan eat?" Lianne asked one afternoon. She tried to shove a dirty carrot into my mouth.
"No, Lianne," Mom said, grabbing the vegetable. "Rowan drinks milk. Dirt is for later."
My world was small. It mostly consisted of the farmhouse and the yard, but I watched everything. I needed to figure out what kind of family I was born into. Were we secret royalty? Retired adventurers?
Nope. We were farmers. Definitely farmers.
But there was a catch.
One afternoon, Dad was working in the garden patch outside my window. The crops looked a little wilted. He knelt down, wiped his hands on his pants, and closed his eyes.
I watched him from my crib. He muttered something. A faint green light glowed around his hands. It flickered for a second and sank into the dirt. The wilted leaves perked up a tiny bit.
Magic.
My jaw dropped. My dad was a mage!
Well, sort of.
He stood up and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked completely exhausted. That one little spell really took it out of him. Clearly, he wasn't some overpowered archmage. He was more like a level-one druid with a terrible mana pool. He wouldn't be growing any forests anytime soon.
Still, I grabbed the wooden bars of my crib.
Magic is real. That means I can learn it.
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Seven months in, I found myself subjected to the absolute misery of village socializing.
"Oh, look at him! He's gotten so big!"
That was Mrs. Fletcher. She lived two farms over and had barged in for tea. She brought her daughter, Aliyah, who was currently drooling all over my shoulder.
The two of us sat on a thick rug in the middle of the living room. Our moms sat at the table, drinking tea and gossiping.
"He really has Reynan's eyes," Mrs. Fletcher cooed. She looked at Aliyah, then back at me. A nasty little grin spread across her face. "You know, Aliyah is just two weeks younger. They're practically the same age."
Mom laughed and poured more tea. "Oh, don't start, Martha."
"I'm just saying!" Mrs. Fletcher winked. "The farms are close. They look good together, don't they? A little future match made in heaven?"
"Look, they're holding hands!" Mom pointed at us, sounding way too happy about it.
We are absolutely not holding hands. This baby was gripping my thumb with absurd strength, and I was just too weak to pull my hand away.
"The wedding will be lovely," Mrs. Fletcher joked. "We can combine the wheat harvest."
I stared blankly at Aliyah. She blew a spit bubble, and it popped right on my cheek. Gross.
Lady, I am mentally twenty years old. I tried to wipe the spit away, but my baby motor skills failed me. This is straight-up weird. Besides, I'm pretty sure arranged marriages are for nobles, not dirt-poor turnip farmers.
I needed to focus on more pressing matters. Like how to get this slobber off my face.
I took a breath and let out a loud, strategic wail.
"Oh, Rowan's grumpy," Mom said. She hurried over and picked me up. "Maybe he's hungry."
Thank you, Mom. Save me from this nightmare.
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Eight months in, I got the first major shock of my new life.
I was sitting on the floor, playing with a wooden block Ralph had carved for me. It was supposed to be a horse, but it looked more like a potato with legs. Someone knocked on the door.
"Ralph, get the door," Mom called from the kitchen.
Ralph struggled with the heavy iron latch before pulling the timber door open.
A tall figure stood there in the morning sun. He wore a moss-green tunic and worn leather boots. He had long silver hair tied back in a ponytail. But his ears were what made me drop my toy.
They were long and pointed. An elf.
My internal alarm bells went off. In the first Odengarde game, elves were arrogant isolationists. They lived in floating citadels and looked down on humans. They were basically high-society jerks. Seeing one in a human farming village usually meant someone was about to get evicted or burned alive for looking at them funny.
"Good morning, Ralph," the elf said. His voice was deep and shockingly polite.
"Master Gaelen!" Ralph beamed. He stepped aside to let the elf in.
Master?
Gaelen stepped inside and ducked under the doorframe. I stared at his face. Dad had mentioned a guy named Gaelen before. He said he was ninety-two years old. I figured he meant some village elder, but this elf didn't look old at all. Dad looked like a guy who worked in the dirt for thirty years. Gaelen looked ageless. He had clear skin and stood totally straight. In human years, he looked maybe thirty-five. It was completely unfair.
"Is your father in?" Gaelen asked. He took off his gloves. "The millers are arguing about the property line again. They asked for a mediator."
Dad walked in from the back room. He wiped the dirt off his hands. "Gaelen. Don't tell me Old Miller is trying to claim the creek is his again."
"He is," Gaelen said with a slight smile. "Since I am the only one old enough to remember where the original stones were placed, they sent for me."
"Sit, sit," Mom said. She hurried in with a tray. "Tea?"
"Please, Lena. That would be lovely," Gaelen replied. He sat in the chair Mom offered him. He moved with this crazy grace that made the rest of us look clumsy.
I stared at him without blinking.
Wait a minute, I thought. He's actually nice.
Gaelen noticed me staring. He leaned down and rested his elbows on his knees. His violet eyes met mine. He didn't sneer. He didn't look down on me. He just looked like a normal neighbor checking out a kid.
"He has an intelligent look about him, Reynan," Gaelen said. "Very focused."
"He's just wondering if your ears are real," Dad joked. He took a cup of tea.
"They are perfectly functional," Gaelen chuckled. "Unlike Miller's memory. I have lived here for three human generations, Reynan. I was here when that creek was a ditch. I planted the oak tree they use as a marker when I was just a young man of twenty."
I chewed on my lip and tried to sort through the game lore in my head.
Elves live way longer than humans. So he's basically in his prime.
But this didn't fit the setting I knew. Elves didn't mediate land disputes for farmers. They didn't drink tea with humans, and they definitely didn't smile at human babies.
Unless...
I remembered the game description I read right before I died. Chronicles of Odengarde II was a sequel. It took place a hundred years after the first game.
A lot could change in a century. Did the Great War end? Did the Floating Cities fall? Maybe the elves just realized being racist jerks wasn't a good long-term plan.
Whatever the reason, Gaelen was a regular around here. He was a neighbor. He was actually pretty cool.
"I'll walk down there with you," Dad said. He finished his tea. "Miller listens to you, but he needs a witness."
"He listens to me because I threatened to turn his hair blue the last time he lied about the fence," Gaelen said dryly.
Dad snorted into his cup.
I held back a laugh. Okay, he was definitely cool.
I suddenly felt a burst of determination. I wanted to see where they were going. I wanted to see if Gaelen would actually use magic on this Miller guy. I planted my hands on the floor and pushed my butt into the air. I wobbled around.
"Look!" Lianne yelled from the corner. She pointed a chubby finger at me. "Rowan up!"
Mom spun around right as I locked my knees. I swayed back and forth. I took one step. Then another.
"He's walking!" Ralph cheered.
I managed three whole steps toward the elf before gravity took over. I flopped right onto my butt.
Everyone cheered. Even Gaelen clapped politely.
"A strong first effort," the elf said. "You have the spirit of a Mudborn field-runner."
I completely froze. Mudborn? I didn't know that term. Was that some kind of new slur?