Sliding onto my soft bottom, I wiggled fingers at the neon threads. A tiny micro-dimension formed around me — a room within the room, the cushions became mountains, the toy tiger a sentinel guarding the glowing sphere at the center.
I tilted my head. Adjusted a thread. Twisted another.
"Neon threads… obey. Miniature worlds… obey. Baby Lex… obey?" I squeaked, puffing cheeks, tiny brow furrowed.
The threads hummed. They bent around me, forming glowing walls of light. The blade's pulse echoed faintly in the background. The detector's hum tickled my ears like distant warnings.
Nice.
Even babies know when the universe is taking notes.
I flopped onto the floor dramatically, letting a clone tumble into a pile of cushions.
"Micro-dimensions are fun," I muttered. "Also terrifying. Also… sad. Also… hilarious. Also… why am I a baby again?"
A tiny tear threatened, but I puffed cheeks instead. Humor is armor. Wobbling limbs and bright neon threads were my shield.
I poked at the mini-dimension with the tip of my toy sword. A thread of light snapped like a tiny lightning bolt.
"Oops. Or not. I'll call it… strategy."
The clones settled. The micro-dimension stabilized.
I tucked the toy sword under my arm, resting back on the cushions.
"Tomorrow… bigger drills. Stronger threads. More chaos."
The faint pulse from the ceremonial blade and the soft hum of the Aura detector reminded me: someone, somewhere, was watching.
And they were waiting.
But for now… the tiny, neon-lit, wobbly, meta-aware toddler was undefeated.
The micro-dimension hummed softly, afterimages fading like tired stars.
I yawned. Big, dramatic, world-weary yawn — the kind only a toddler who has simulated entire battlefields could pull off.
My tiny arms flopped to my sides. My stubby legs tangled in the cushions.
(Breathe… & Exhaust.)
I blinked once, then twice.
"Damn it," I muttered through gritted baby teeth, cheeks puffed. "I have to erase any evidence…"
The mini-dimension, the flailing clones, the toy sword — none of it could be left behind. Even as a baby, subtlety mattered. Secrets were survival.
My fingers curled around the toy sword, attempting a proper grip. My tiny arms were weak, my coordination worse, but the intent was there. That was enough.
The door creaked open. Soft, deliberate. The world shifted.
Sayonara Lockhart stepped in, white hair catching the sunlight like strands of silver fire. Her starry blue eyes softened as they found me sprawled across the cushions, toy sword beside me.
"Lex," she whispered, kneeling beside me. Her hands were warm, magical, tender. She lifted me effortlessly, as though gravity itself obeyed her will.
I squirmed slightly, half to protest, half out of tired defiance.
Her eyes fell on the tiny toy sword. A gentle smile curved her lips.
"Already want to follow your cousin's footsteps, huh?"
I puffed my cheeks at her teasing, but said nothing. Tiny hands gripped the sword lazily, still echoing the morning's mischief.
She carried me to my bed — a crib that shimmered faintly with protective Aether threads, woven into blankets soft enough to cradle even the heaviest thoughts of a reincarnator.
The sunlight caught the strands of my neon threads one last time before fading into the soft pastel shadows of the room.
Even as I sank into the soft mattress, I could feel the faint pulse of my inner dimension lingering, tiny threads waiting to obey at the slightest thought.
Sayonara tucked me in, brushing a soft strand of hair from my forehead. "Sleep well, little one. You've got big days ahead."
I hummed softly, eyes half-closed, mind still spinning strategies, simulations, and micro-dimensions.
As sleep claimed me, a tiny smirk tugged at my round cheeks.
Tomorrow, I would rise again — slightly stronger, slightly cleverer, slightly more neon-lit than today.
Even as a baby, I was already plotting, already calculating, already awake inside.
(Breathe… & Rest.)
The toy sword lay beside me, innocuous yet brimming with promise.
The faint hum of the Aura detector echoed softly through the nursery, as if whispering:
The world hasn't seen anything yet.
And Lex Lockhart, regressor, Apex Swordmaster in spirit, drifted into slumber.