Hey guys.
Name's Ikarus. Yeah, that Ikarus—aka the "Forsaken One."
Crazy title for a two-year-old, right?
If this were my first life, it would be ridiculous. But this is my second round, and I've already been betrayed once, thrown away once, and almost dumped for the dogs before I could even walk. So calling myself "forsaken" feels… accurate.
Still, let's not start with depression.
Because honestly?
The last few years have been… surprisingly amazing.
After Marta saved me from the Dawson estate and we crossed the river, we ended up on a small continent off the main routes. Don't be fooled by "small." For someone who remembers being stabbed to death in a supermarket and then almost dropped on stone as a baby, this place is basically heaven.
This world has sorcerers who light the streets with a snap of their fingers, knights whose armor hums with faint runes, dragons that sometimes leave distant shadows against the evening sky, vampires who lurk in rumors and alley corners, and descendants of gods walking around as if they own everything. The continent we're on is surprisingly developed—paved main streets, guilds, temples, adventurers, trade routes, and more magic than my old world could have imagined.
And me?
I'm growing up in an orphanage.
Yeah. Life has a sense of humor.
Marta took a job here as a sister. She wears a simple uniform, helps with deliveries, assists the local healer, and pretends I arrived like any other abandoned child. No one here knows anything about Dawsons, bloodlines, or "no talent." They just call me Ikarus and complain when I chew on the blankets.
The people in the orphanage are… kind.
That still feels strange to say.
Sister Miya, who runs the place, always smells faintly of herbs and soap. She has a soft voice that turns sharp only when kids steal extra bread. The older boys sneak me pieces of fruit when they think no one is watching. The younger ones poke my cheeks and argue about whether my hair will turn dark like Marta's or stay the soft black fluff it is now.
This place is small. The roof leaks when it rains too hard, and sometimes dinner is just thin soup and stale bread. But when the lamps are lit and all the kids pile together on old mattresses, when Marta hums quietly and Miya tucks blankets around us…
It feels more like a home than anything I ever had in either life.
Maybe that's why I started to relax.
Maybe that's why I didn't notice what was happening to my soul at first.
The first time I felt it clearly, I was lying in my cradle, staring at the cracked ceiling.
It was night. The orphanage was quiet except for soft breathing and the occasional snore. Moonlight slipped through the window, painting a pale line across the floor.
Then—pulse.
Not from my heart. Deeper. A slow, heavy throbbing in a place no infant should be aware of.
I sucked in a breath, tiny fingers curling into the blanket.
"What… is that?" I thought.
The sensation grew stronger. It felt like strings were being attached to me from somewhere above and somewhere below—two different directions, two different forces, tugging at the same core.
Two layers.
Two bindings.
One felt… familiar. Vast. Silent. Endless. Like standing at the edge of an infinite sky and knowing you could fall forever. Cold, but not hostile.
Infinity.
The other felt hot. Thick. Heavy. It crawled along my skin like oil, whispering of desire, hunger, bodies, and cravings. Dangerous, intoxicating… and disgusting.
Lust.
Yeah. You heard that right.
Even as a baby, with a two-year-old body and a twice-lived soul, I knew exactly what that second one was reaching for—and I wanted no part of it.
"Seriously?" I thought, incredulous. "Leveling through lust? That's the system this world tries to shove into me?"
I had died once already because people couldn't control their greed, their envy, their hunger. Now the world wanted to wire that into my power?
No.
Absolutely not.
The bindings tightened.
For a moment, it felt like my soul was being branded from both sides. One cold, infinite imprint. One blazing, sticky brand. The pressure made it hard to breathe, hard to think.
I clenched my jaw—tiny teeth not even fully grown—and pushed back.
"I am Ikarus," I thought. "Not a puppet."
Pain answered.
The lust system pushed harder, forcing its way in, trying to sink hooks into my instincts. It felt like a swarm of invisible hands clawing at my mind, promising strength, pleasure, rapid growth—if I just surrendered.
I didn't.
In my previous life, I'd bent, compromised, tried to be good for everyone else.
That got me a knife in the back.
This time, even as an infant, I dug my will in and resisted.
The world blurred. My vision shook. My skull felt like it would split. That hot power gathered in one place, condensing brutally—
My left eye.
It burned.
Not like a little irritation. Not like dust or an itch. It felt like molten metal was being poured into my socket, searing nerves that weren't ready. I couldn't even form proper thoughts. All that came out of my brain was:
Too much. Too much. Too much!
I tried to scream, but my throat locked. Tears exploded from my eyes on reflex. My tiny body thrashed against the cradle, blanket twisting around my limbs.
The power surged, then collapsed inward, sucked into my left eye as if someone had yanked an invisible plug. The burning became a stabbing pain so intense it blotted out thought.
I cried. Loud. Desperate. Hysterical.
Footsteps rushed toward me.
The door flew open, and warm arms scooped me up.
"Ikarus!" Sister Miya's voice cut through the haze, firm but worried. "Hey, hey, what's wrong? Breathe, little one. It's all right. I've got you."
I buried my face in her chest and screamed into her clothes while the last traces of that overwhelming energy sank into my eye.
The room spun. The voices of other children stirred, then hushed as Marta murmured something to calm them. Miya rocked me gently, hand patting my back in slow circles.
"It hurts…" I thought blindly. "Make it stop… please…"
No one could hear those words.
But something else did.
A cold, clear chime rang in my mind.
[System Awakening…]
The pain dulled to a harsh throbbing. Miya's warmth anchored me, the steady rhythm of her heart dragging me out of the panic.
[Host recognized: Ikarus]
[Age: 2 years (soul irregularity detected)]
[Primary binding: Infinity System]
[Secondary intrusion: Divine Lust System – SUPPRESSED]
Text—not on a screen, but etched directly into my awareness.
[Status:
Level – 1
Magic – 2
Stamina – 3
Strength – 5
Will – 50
Other skills – Locked
Notes:
– Host has forcibly resisted Divine Lust System.
– Excess power has been redirected.
– Divine Eye – Locked.]
My left eye pulsed once, like a heartbeat made of liquid fire, then settled into a dull ache.
Divine Eye.
Locked.
Of course.
"I don't want the lust system," I thought, still clinging to Miya's clothes. "Get that thing out of me."
There was a pause. Then:
[Divine Lust System: sealed under host's will and Infinity binding.]
[Warning: divine construct remains. Might resurface if restraints weaken.]
"In other words, I didn't destroy it," I muttered inwardly. "I just stuffed it in a corner."
[Crude but accurate,] the system replied.
The voice wasn't robotic. It wasn't overly emotional either. Calm. Dry. With the faintest hint of amusement, like a teacher watching a stubborn kid do something impressive and dangerous.
"When do I unlock this 'Divine Eye' then?" I asked. "And don't say 'never.' I literally burned half my soul to save my pride."
A beat of silence.
[Advice: first grow up, dude.]
I blinked.
"…Did my system just call me 'dude'?"
[Host is two years old.]
[Recommendation: focus on physical development, basic magic sensing, and survival. Divine functions are unnecessary at this stage.]
"So rude," I thought. "But fine. You've got a point."
Miya's hand kept moving on my back, slow and steady. My crying had faded into weak, shuddering hiccups. She didn't know an invisible battle had just taken place in my soul. She only knew a toddler had woken screaming and she'd come running.
"It's all right, Ikarus," she whispered near my ear. "Bad dream? It's over now. I'm here."
Her voice was soft. Warm.
In my first life, no one had rushed to comfort me when I broke.
In my second, an overworked orphanage sister did—without hesitation.
Marta appeared at her side, eyes shadowed with sleep but sharp with concern.
"Another nightmare?" she asked quietly.
"Feels like it," Miya replied. "His left eye's a little red. Maybe he scratched it."
Marta looked at me for a long moment. I met her gaze through blurry lashes.
We both knew this was more than a bad dream.
"Ikarus," she said softly. "Don't scare us like that, boy."
You almost lost me once already, I thought. I'm not planning to make it easy for anyone ever again.
The system's panel lingered at the edge of my awareness.
Level 1.
Magic 2.
Stamina 3.
Strength 5.
Will 50.
That last number made me snort internally.
"Fifty will at age two, huh? Infinity system, lust system, previous life trauma… guess I earned it."
[Will stat reflects spiritual resilience and resistance,] the system confirmed. [Host's repeated betrayals and current defiance have contributed significantly.]
"Great," I replied. "Trauma as a buff. Love that."
But I did love this, just a little:
I wasn't completely powerless anymore.
I had a system.
I had a hidden Divine Eye.
I had Infinity bound to my soul, and a dangerous lust system locked under my will.
And I had people who held me when I screamed.
For a guy called the Forsaken One, that was already more than I'd expected.
Miya gently laid me back in the cradle, tucking the blanket around me. Marta brushed a thumb over my forehead, rough and careful.
"Sleep," she murmured. "You've got a long life ahead of you, Ikarus. Don't burn it all at two."
If only she knew how ironic that was.
As the lights dimmed and the orphanage sank back into quiet breathing and soft snores, I stared at the cracked ceiling and let everything sink in.
Two lives.
Two births.
Two systems.
Infinity.
Divine Lust (suppressed).
Divine Eye (locked).
"I need to get stronger," I thought. "But I'm only two. One step at a time."
[Correct,] the system replied. [Training plan can begin when host's body is less… squishy.]
"Squishy?!"
[Rest, dude.]
If anyone had told me in my old life that my second chance would start with being roasted by my own system, I'd have laughed.
Now, I just smiled faintly in the dark.
"Fine," I thought. "I'll grow. I'll train. I'll unlock everything—Infinity, Divine Eye, whatever else you're hiding."
"And when I'm ready… if I ever see Noah, Elara, or Caelan again…"
The vow from the ship, from the night Marta named me, rose up inside me, sharper and clearer.
"If they try to hurt me, or Marta, or Miya, or anyone I choose in this life…"
I didn't finish the sentence.
I didn't have to.
My will answered for me, a silent blade unsheathed.
No mercy.
No begging.
No second chances.
For now, though, I was just a two-year-old in a leaky orphanage, wrapped in cheap blankets, held together by stubbornness, Infinity, and a locked divine eye.
I closed my eyes, let the system's faint presence fade to a background hum, and finally drifted off.
Forsaken in two lives.
But this time, not alone.
And this time, with power quietly waiting to wake up with me.