I stared at my own hand in shock.
That wasn't luck.
That wasn't random motion.
That was an instinctive strike — something no normal baby should be capable of.
The trainee coughed, eyes wide with humiliation.
"You— You hit me?"
I didn't move.
Didn't cry.
Didn't look away.
I simply stared at him with the calmness only
reincarnation could provide.
He backed away like he'd seen a ghost.
By the time Talia returned, he was gone.
She looked at me, eyebrow raised, noticing the disturbed air and my rigid stance.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
I couldn't explain.
So I just lifted my tiny hand — the one that struck him — and clenched it.
Her eyes widened a fraction.
Then she smiled.
A proud, dangerous smile.
You will be extraordinary.
While normal babies played with toys, I played with shadows.
While normal babies babbled nonsense, I listened to Talia recite ancient techniques.
While normal babies learned to walk at their own pace, I marched with purpose.
Every step I took made whispers spread through the League:
"That child is destined."
"He is not normal."
"He might surpass us all."
"Or kill us all."
I didn't want either.
I just wanted strength.
Enough to protect myself.
Enough to protect the people I cared about — the few I trusted.
And as I fell asleep that night, exhausted from training my barely-formed muscles, I knew one thing for certain:
This was only the beginning.