[TWO YEARS LATER]
Another morning dawned in this world I was slowly learning to call home. To anyone else, I must have seemed like any ordinary toddler. Crawling at nine months, speaking at eleven—it was all within my expectations. Physically, I was no different from the others my age. But inside? Inside, I was something altogether unnatural. My mind belonged not to this body but to the man I had been before: a warrior, a murderer, a man betrayed. While the other children of this world were learning to stack blocks or stumble through their first words, I was already planning my first reconnaissance mission.
Today's target: the storage room.
I'd been observing my mother's routine closely. Every day, like clockwork, she moved through the house with quiet efficiency. Kitchen first, where she prepared meals for the day. Laundry next, then tending to her beloved garden with the kind of peaceful devotion only a woman content with her life could manage. I had calculated this morning's window carefully. Three hours. That was how long I had before she would come looking for me.
Yesterday, my father—perhaps a little too casually—mentioned that there were books in the storage room. Books on history. Books on this world. My curiosity burned hotter than ever. I needed knowledge. I needed to understand this land I'd been thrown into. Not for the sake of childish wonder, but because if I was ever to reclaim my strength, if I was ever to surpass the man I had been, I needed to understand the rules of this world.
The door creaked open beneath my small hands, revealing shelves that climbed high up the walls, bathed in a haze of dust. My toddler frame was, unsurprisingly, far too short to reach them. I scanned the room, eyes narrowing with the practiced gaze of someone who had once surveyed battlefields for tactical advantage. I found what I needed: a wooden box shoved into a corner, heavy but not immovable. I dragged it across the floor with painstaking determination, sweat beading on my small brow from the effort.
But when I finally pried open the box, what I found inside made my breath hitch. Twelve books. Not random scraps or children's stories, but carefully preserved tomes. One bore a single word on its cover that made my heart beat faster: "Gemesia." This continent.
I flipped it open with reverence, my tiny hands trembling slightly with the weight of what I might discover. The pages unveiled a world far beyond my imaginings. Gemesia wasn't just home to humans—it was a continent shared by elves, dwarves, and beast-folk, each race with their own cultures, their own lands, their own powers. I read hungrily, absorbing every scrap of knowledge like a starving man devouring his first meal in days.
But it was the hastily scrawled note in the margins of one page that made my blood run cold. A warning, scribbled in hurried ink: "To the east lies land where lives. Dragons. Phoenix. Basilisks. Titans. Chimera. Griffin. Wyvern. Hydra." For a moment, I just sat there, staring. Even with the experiences of my past life, with all the battles I had fought and survived, I could not fathom standing against such beings. This world was no mere playground of swords and politics. This was a realm where legends still walked, where nightmares breathed fire, and gods might yet bleed.
I read on, forcing my heart to steady itself. Humans in this world wielded elemental magic—fire, earth, wind, water. Rarer individuals could command advanced elements like lightning or gravity. Only a tenth of the population could truly control mana, but all could manipulate aura, a force that strengthened weapons and bodies alike, capable of clashing even with magic itself. Elves were born masters of all basic elements. Dwarves, as I suspected, specialized in crafting and creation, their magic tied to fire and earth. The beast-folk fascinated me most: humanoid yet marked by beastly traits, capable of blending magic and aura with an instinctive grace.
At the back, a map painted it all clearly. The eastern wastelands—untouched, unclaimed, feared. The human kingdom of Emea ruled the north. The beast-folk nation of Kitias held the heart of the continent. The elven realm of Eurisa stretched across the southern forests. And to the west, the dwarven kingdom of Kanash carved its dominion into the mountains and desert
A world divided. A world ripe for conflict. "What do we have here?"
I nearly jumped out of my skin as a warm hand scooped me up from behind. I'd been so engrossed, I hadn't even heard my mother's approach. My heart hammered, not from fear, but from the sudden reminder that no matter how sharp my mind, I was still trapped in a child's body. She plucked a storybook from the shelf, handing it to me with a gentle, amused smile. "If you want to play with books, this one's more your speed, little one."
With a soft laugh, she carried me off to lunch. My mind, however, was still lost in visions of dragons, magic, and kingdoms waiting to clash.
Later, as the midday sun slanted through the windows, my father pointed out something covered in white cloth in the corner of their room. Before he could explain, my mother cut in with her usual bright enthusiasm. "Oh, my little Ray hasn't seen himself yet!" Together, they pulled away the cloth to reveal a mirror.
I blinked at my reflection. Black hair, blue eyes—the mark of my new bloodline. My father's voice was tinged with pride. "He's going to be quite handsome, isn't he?"
"Indeed," my mother agreed, her smile soft.
I smirked inwardly. 'Watch out, ladies. In a few years, you'll be lining up with your hearts in your hands. Better start preparing those rejection speeches now.'
That night, my father gave me a conspiratorial wink and led me outside under the fading sun. "Let's head to the field. I've got something to show you, but it's our secret, alright?" Even now, my blood quickened at the unspoken promise behind those words. This was no ordinary man. Robert Krater—former Class A adventurer, one of the rare magic swordsmen—carried legends in his shadow. My mother, Yuna Krater, a water mage of no small talent, had stood by his side through many battles. To the world, they were now retired. To me… they were the key to understanding the strength of this world.
As we stepped into the golden light of the open field, the air thick with the scent of earth and promise, I couldn't help the quiet thrum of anticipation that settled deep in my chest. 'What is he about to show me?'