Morning came softly to the palace, its silverwood halls shimmering with dawn-light as if spun from moonbeams. But inside the nursery tower, peace was fragile—thin as mist and easily broken.
Liam woke slowly, eyelids fluttering as the strange dream faded. For a moment he forgot he was eight months old. He forgot the helpless weight of his tiny limbs. He forgot the war gnawing at the borders of the **Elvish Empire**, threatening to swallow everything before he even learned to walk.
But memory returned. All of it. His past life. His rebirth. His mother's vow. The tremor of magic he'd accidentally released.
Today felt different.
He sensed something wrong the moment he opened his eyes.
The quiet was… *too* quiet.
The maids hadn't arrived. The guards weren't whispering. No footsteps moved through the upper halls. It was as if the palace itself held its breath.
A faint cold pricked the air.
Something dark had slipped inside.
He felt it before he heard it: a low, rumbling vibration like a growl swallowed by shadows. The cradle trembled. The lanterns flickered.
Then—
*footsteps.*
Not elvish. Not light, graceful, or rhythmic.
Heavy.
Predatory.
Wrong.
Liam's tiny heart hammered, a primal fear exploding through him. His body stiffened. His breath stopped.
A pitch-black mist seeped from the cracks beneath the door, writhing like smoke alive with hunger. The wooden floor beneath the mist darkened as if rotting instantly.
The door creaked open.
And a figure stepped inside.
A demon—not one of the lesser fiends described by palace guards, but a towering, horned being cloaked in shadows, eyes burning like embers in a dead hearth.
A **demon lord assassin**.
Sent for *him*.
The creature smiled, jagged teeth gleaming.
"So this is the elvish miracle child…"
His voice slithered across the air—low, mocking, ancient.
Liam couldn't move. Fear crushed him so completely he felt his bones might crack. His mind screamed but his tiny throat could only form a trembling whimper.
The demon stepped closer.
"Such a tiny thing," he murmured, kneeling beside the cradle. "Born of moonlight. Blessed by prophecy. Hunted by all."
A clawed finger reached out.
Liam felt his world tilt into terror.
*He was going to die.*
He hadn't grown.
He hadn't fought.
He hadn't explored this world.
He hadn't understood why he was reborn.
He hadn't even said a single word.
*This can't be it.*
*Not yet. Not like this.*
The demon's claw descended—
And then—
A voice echoed inside his mind.
Clear. Cold. Mechanical.
**"SYSTEM NOTICE:
The host is unable to defend himself.
Override of foundational rules activated.
Emergency protection: ENGAGED.
Transferring host to SYSTEM SPACE."**
For a heartbeat, everything froze.
The demon's expression twisted in confusion.
"What—?"
A pulse.
A flicker.
Then—
**A wave of mana erupted.**
Not elvish mana.
Not demonic mana.
Something far more ancient, pure, and absolute.
The explosion was silent but catastrophic—like creation rewriting itself. Light swept through the room in a blinding arc, crashing into the demon with unstoppable force.
He didn't scream.
He didn't resist.
He **disintegrated**, body obliterating into dust the moment the wave touched him. His shadowy cloak evaporated. His burning eyes extinguished.
He ceased to exist before his mouth could even open.
The wave passed through the rest of the room without harming a single object—every carving, every lantern, every silverwood fiber untouched.
Only the demon was erased.
The cradle glowed.
Liam felt weightless.
And then—
**The world vanished.**
---
### **THE SYSTEM SPACE**
Silence.
Warmth.
Light.
The shift was so gentle, so impossibly calm that Liam's fear washed away instantly. His eyes fluttered open to a world unlike anything he'd ever imagined.
He lay on a bed of soft, silver-blue grass that glowed faintly beneath him. Endless **blue water** stretched in every direction—an ocean without waves. Perfectly still. Perfectly reflective. The horizon vanished into haze.
Above him, the **sky was blue**, unmarred by clouds. A single radiant sun floated overhead, warm but not harsh.
The air smelled of nothing—clean, empty, peaceful.
He had never felt so light.
So safe.
A soft breeze brushed against him, warm and gentle, as if welcoming him. His tiny fingers curled, sinking slightly into the glowing grass.
For the first time since his reincarnation…
He felt no fear.
No pressure.
No war.
No danger.
Just serenity.
His mind—still that of an adult trapped in a baby's body—relaxed fully for the first time. He could think clearly here. No crying muscles. No blurred vision.
He sat up—
He actually **sat up**.
His body responded perfectly—no weakness, no instability. He stared at his hands—still small, still the hands of an infant, but moving exactly as he intended.
The system space freed him from physical limitations.
A ripple passed across the water in front of him.
Words formed in the air, each letter glowing softly.
**WELCOME, HOST.
YOU ARE SAFE.**
Liam exhaled slowly, almost shakily.
Safe.
For now.
---
### **OUTSIDE THE SYSTEM — CHAOS**
Queen Seraphielle felt it before anyone else.
The mana wave erupted through the palace like a silent scream—pure, ancient, and overwhelmingly powerful. So strong every elvish mage in the city dropped to their knees.
Seraphielle was in the war room when it hit.
Her wings burst open instinctively.
"That magic—"
"Your Majesty, wait!"
"Was it an attack?!"
"The prince—!"
She didn't wait for explanations.
She **flew**.
Bursting through corridors, smashing doors open with force magic, ignoring the cries of guards who struggled to follow. Her heart pounded louder than war drums.
Her child.
Her only child.
*Please, please, please—*
She reached the nursery tower in seconds.
The door was shattered. Mana crackled violently across the walls. The air smelled of ash and void.
Her heart trembled.
She pushed inside—
And froze.
The demon's obliterated remains dusted the floor, nothing left but a shadow burned into the wooden boards.
But the cradle—
The cradle was empty.
Her son…
Her son was **gone**.
Her scream shook the palace.
---
### **FIVE DAYS WITHOUT LIGHT**
Seraphielle did not sleep.
Did not rest.
Did not breathe unless forced to.
She threw herself into battle—leading armies, stabilizing barriers, slaying demons, and driving back human battalions. Her magic was relentless, wild, terrifying.
For five days straight she fought.
Her hair dimmed from exhaustion.
Her wings cracked.
Her voice grew hoarse.
But she fought.
Not for victory.
Not for pride.
For grief.
For a child she feared dead.
For a husband missing beyond the abyss.
Hope felt like a cruel joke.
Her generals whispered among themselves.
"She's going to break."
"The queen hasn't eaten."
"Her mana veins can't handle this pace."
But she kept going.
Because stopping meant thinking.
And thinking meant breaking.
On the sixth day, she stood before the central barrier, barely upright. Blood stained her gown. Her wings drooped. Her breath came in shallow gasps.
A messenger sprinted toward her.
"Your Majesty!" he shouted, voice cracking with urgency.
She lifted her head slowly.
"Please," she whispered, "not more bad news."
The messenger dropped to one knee.
"It's— it's the emperor!"
Seraphielle's heart stopped.
"He's alive!" the messenger cried. "He survived the Abyssal Divide! He led a counter-assault!"
Her legs buckled. A nearby officer rushed to steady her.
"He—he lives?" she whispered, barely audible.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Emperor Thalorien has secured the eastern front. Victory is spreading across the region. He sends word that he will return as soon as possible."
For the first time in days—
for the first time since Liam vanished—
light flickered in her eyes.
But the joy was incomplete.
Her son was still missing.
Her family still broken.
Yet…
Hope—small and fragile—fluttered alive inside her heart.
Wherever her child was…
Whatever force had taken him…
She prayed it had taken him to safety.
---
### **BACK IN THE SYSTEM SPACE**
Liam rested quietly, gazing across the endless, peaceful horizon.
He didn't know how long he'd been here.
He didn't know how time flowed outside.
But he knew one thing:
He wasn't alone anymore.
A soft chime echoed.
Blue ripples pulsed across the sky.
**"HOST, PREPARE.
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION: BEGINNING SOON."**
Liam inhaled deeply.
This world—the system space—was not a refuge.
It was the beginning.
Of power.
Of survival.
Of destiny.
And he needed all three.
Because outside this peaceful ocean…
The world was burning.
And he had a mother searching for him through fire and blood.