Chapter 1: Death, God, and Rebirth as a Baby
Ray had always expected death to come in a blaze of glory. Something heroic. A final stand against overwhelming odds. The stuff of legends. Instead, it was a knife in the back, a betrayal by those he'd once called comrades. The war had gone on for too long, the monsters too numerous, and the people who fought alongside him—those same, backstabbing cowards—too willing to sacrifice him to save their own skins.
It was a silent end, cold and quick. He never saw it coming. Just like he never saw the betrayal coming. His last thought as he bled out, vision going dark, was a simple, bitter: Should've killed them first.
When he woke up, it wasn't in a field of blood or on the edge of a battlefield. No. The moment his eyes fluttered open, a blinding white light filled his vision, a presence so overwhelming it stole his breath away. A low voice rumbled from everywhere at once.
"So, you're awake."
Ray's instincts screamed at him to fight, to find a weapon, to lash out. But there was nothing to fight. Nothing to grab. His body felt strange, unrecognizable. Small. Soft. He could barely move.
His mind, sharp as ever, began to piece together the impossible. He wasn't dead. Not fully. But he wasn't alive in the sense he was used to, either.
"You're not dead," the voice continued, like it could read his mind. "You're being reborn."
Ray tried to speak, but no words came out—just incoherent babbling. His tiny hands clenched and unclenched in confusion.
The voice laughed. It was a sound of divine amusement, echoing through his very being. "Ah, you can't speak yet, can you? It'll come. It always does."
Ray's baby brain struggled to make sense of what was happening, but his memories were fading. Flickering like a dying lightbulb. Who was this? Where was he?
The voice didn't wait for him to ask. "I am the God of Humanity. I have watched your world, and I have seen what you've lost. Betrayed by those you trusted, left to die for nothing. But I offer you a second chance. Reincarnation, in a world full of promise, danger, and... opportunities. You will be my chosen. You will protect Aetherra."
Ray's pulse quickened at the mention of Aetherra, an unfamiliar word that still felt... important. The god's voice droned on.
"Aetherra is on the brink of destruction. It is a world of monsters, magic, and kingdoms on the edge of war. The realms are about to collide, and I need someone with your... talents. Someone who will rise above the chaos."
The God paused for a moment, giving Ray's tiny body a once-over. "You'll need to be more than you were. Stronger. Smarter. But with that comes responsibility. Power comes with its own price. Are you ready to accept it?"
Ray wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but he knew one thing: If the God wanted him to take up arms again, to fight—he'd do it. He had nothing to lose.
"Good," the God said with a tone of satisfaction. "Then you'll have what you need. A new life, a new chance. You'll be born again. But this time, you'll do it my way."
And just like that, a sharp pain pierced Ray's skull, followed by the strange sensation of his body reforming, stretching, reshaping itself. His vision blurred again, and then everything went dark.
---
When Ray opened his eyes again, the world around him was completely different. He wasn't on the battlefield anymore. He wasn't even in the familiar streets of his old home. He was in a crib—a baby's crib—surrounded by soft blankets and the faint smell of wood and food.
His eyes darted around, taking in his new surroundings. He was in a modest, sparsely furnished room. A wooden cradle rocked gently in the corner. A woman's voice echoed through the door—familiar, motherly.
"Look, look, honey—he's awake! Our little Ray is finally awake!"
Ray's eyes widened. He had a mother now. A family. A chance.
"His first cry is always the hardest," a man's voice added—strong but distant. "But you've got the look of a fighter, son. You'll be strong, won't you?"
The warmth in the room, the tone of the voices, slowly brought some clarity to Ray's confused mind. He was alive. He was here. In a new life.
And with a small, barely audible whisper in the back of his mind, he heard it—the first murmur of his new "companion." A voice that didn't belong to any human being.
"Congratulations, meatbag. Welcome to Version 0.00000001 Beta. You will die."
Ray blinked, stunned. The voice was... strange. Chaotic. But in that moment, it was all too clear that whatever this new life brought, whatever the hell this System was, it wasn't going to be easy.
And yet, deep in his bones, Ray knew one thing for sure: he wasn't going to die without a fight.
"Let's see where this goes," he murmured under his breath, his tiny form twitching with the first stirrings of his old, sarcastic self.
In this new world, Ray wasn't just going to survive. He was going to win.
And maybe, just maybe, he'd make sure that the ones who betrayed him would never get the chance to betray anyone again.
---
End of Chapter 1.Chapter 2: The First Whisper of System 15
Ray's new world was far more peaceful than the one he had left behind. The gentle hum of daily life surrounded him—soft chatter, the faint rustle of clothing, the rhythm of mundane activities. His new family was kind, despite the strange sense of displacement that lingered over him.
At least, that was what he pretended to feel as his infant brain struggled to adjust to its new reality. His body might have been small, but his mind was already sharp. Ray's eyes flickered around, observing everything. His mother, a stern yet caring woman, would smile as she cradled him in her arms. His father, the source of the low, distant voice he had heard earlier, was a man of few words. He would stare at Ray with a calculating gaze, as if measuring his worth from the very first moment.
But while the family seemed happy, there was an undercurrent of... tension. Something unspoken. He could feel it, even as a baby.
The first few days were an odd, surreal experience of being treated like an infant but thinking like a man. Ray cried when they wanted him to, giggled when they cooed at him, and mostly slept to keep up appearances.
That was until the whispers started.
It was subtle at first. A flicker in the back of his mind, like static before a storm.
"Congratulations, meatbag. Version 0.00000001 Beta. Do not expect smooth sailing."
Ray stiffened, his tiny fists clenching involuntarily. It was that voice again—chaotic, snarky, and undeniably annoying. He was half tempted to smack his own head just to stop it from speaking.
"Shut up," Ray muttered, not that anyone could understand him.
System 15—Ray had already decided that was its name—responded with a sarcastic tone, like it knew exactly how to annoy him the most.
"Did you just try to talk back? Adorable. You can't even form words yet. Should I teach you? Or would you prefer I let you wallow in this pathetic baby form a little longer?"
Ray didn't even have the energy to be mad. He was far too exhausted from processing the fact that he was stuck in the body of a baby again. Why couldn't I just be reborn as an adult, like those characters in the stories? He silently cursed his fate.
"Oh, it's not that simple, meatbag. Your rebirth isn't just about power. There are... restrictions. I'm not sure how I got stuck with you, but I'll make the best of it. For now."
Ray narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on something, anything, other than the disorienting swirl of his new reality. But his body—his new baby body—betrayed him. His movements were slow, awkward, and for a moment, he felt completely helpless.
"Are you going to keep calling me 'meatbag'?" Ray asked with as much disdain as he could muster, though it came out as a weak babble.
The system didn't answer immediately. It was probably waiting for him to do something entertaining, but Ray wasn't in the mood. He sighed, shifting a little in his mother's arms.
But the voice didn't let up.
"Of course, I'm calling you that. It's what you are. A fragile, squishy sack of meat. What were you expecting? Something more dignified?"
"You're getting ahead of yourself. First, we'll handle the basics. The gifts you've been given... I'll help you unlock them, but there's a lot of work ahead. You'll need training."
Ray felt a jolt in his chest at the word "training." It reminded him of the wars he'd fought in his past life—fighting for survival, pushing his body to its limits. But now, he was in the body of a baby again, and not even a particularly strong one.
"Training?" Ray asked, his mind already calculating. The thought of being weak was repulsive, but he couldn't even crawl, let alone lift a sword. The system seemed to notice his frustration.
"*Calm down, meatbag. You're not getting a weapon right now. What you need is to master the basics first. Get familiar with your own dysfunctional abilities, which... trust me, are going to be *interesting.**"
Ray grumbled to himself, but he couldn't help but feel a bit of curiosity rise within him. What the hell could I possibly do with a broken system like this?
Before he could dive deeper into his thoughts, his mother gently placed him down into his crib and began cooing softly.
"Rest, Ray. You're still so young. You'll grow strong in time."
It felt almost normal. But then the voice piped up again, louder now, as if sensing Ray's attempt to shut it out.
"Strong? Your family is broken, meatbag. You'll have to rebuild it. But first, you have to survive this life. You can't afford to be a helpless, babbling infant forever. Not with the threats that are coming."
Ray's eyes snapped open at the mention of threats. He didn't have much of a clue about what the voice meant, but his gut told him that he had a limited amount of time before the world would show him just how real the dangers of Aetherra were.
"I'll make it. I'll survive," Ray whispered to himself, the resolve hardening in his chest. His tiny fists clenched once more. "I don't need your help."
System 15 responded with another laugh.
"We'll see about that."
---
End of Chapter 2.Chapter 3: Awakening the First Signs
Ray's world shifted again, this time with the weight of inevitability pressing against him. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months, but his mind stayed sharp. As his small hands grasped at toys in his crib, or he clutched his mother's finger with little more than instinctive grasp, he found himself thinking about his past life. Every night before sleep, as the world fell quiet, Ray would hold onto the memories of battles, betrayals, and broken trust. A lifetime of war and survival felt like a dream now, like it belonged to someone else entirely.
But he was still Ray. Even if his body was soft, small, and useless.
The first whispers of System 15 started to feel like the familiar voice of an old companion. It wasn't friendly, and it certainly wasn't comforting, but it was there. The snark, the biting sarcasm, and the strange satisfaction it seemed to derive from his discomfort.
"Well, meatbag, still alive and kicking. At least for now. Congratulations on existing another day."
Ray groaned inwardly. The voice was grating. Was there no other way to deal with this thing? Still, there was something about it—something oddly familiar, like an uninvited guest that wouldn't leave but also wouldn't kill you.
As Ray slowly reached the age of three, his memories of his past life began to resurface in fragments. Bits and pieces of the man he once was, flashes of a battlefield drenched in blood, and the faces of his fallen comrades—many of whom betrayed him. He still remembered their cold eyes as they turned on him in his final moments.
But, at the same time, he found the need to survive more pressing now. This new life—this baby life—was more than just a rebirth. It was a test. A cruel one, perhaps, but one he was determined to face.
As his fingers twitched for the first time, Ray realized that his surroundings had changed. The small crib in his family's cottage now seemed larger, as if stretching out before him, a stage on which he would be expected to perform.
That was when System 15 decided to chime in once again.
"I see you're growing impatient. You want to do something, don't you? You want to feel something besides helplessness. Well, you'll get your chance. You've got a bit of potential. A few tools in your possession—if you can figure out how to use them."
Ray frowned, his little brow furrowing as his tiny hands reached out instinctively. His mother's familiar scent filled the air as she entered the room, a reassuring presence. She wasn't just his mother—she was his trainer, too. Ray knew from the start that if he was going to make it in this new life, his mother's guidance would be pivotal. But he had to be careful. Too much attention, and they'd realize he wasn't as helpless as he let on.
She leaned over, her dark eyes soft and calculating, as she gently adjusted his position in the crib.
"Ray," she murmured, as though reading his thoughts. "You'll grow stronger with time. I know you're already aware of it. But strength doesn't come from just training. It comes from understanding who you are, where you're from."
He gazed up at her, watching her with wide eyes as she continued to talk, oblivious to the storm that raged within his young mind.
"I don't have much to give you, but I'll teach you the little things. The basics," she added softly. "Patience is key, my son. Don't rush. You're not in a hurry."
Ray's hand twitched again.
"Patience? Ha, the only patience I have is for this slow burn of power. A pity you don't know what you've got your hands on yet. You'll be stronger than your mother, stronger than anyone, if you can just unlock the damn system properly. But you're going to need more than just mama's love for that."
Ray closed his eyes briefly, trying to block out the voice, the constant reminder that this was not normal—this was not what a baby should be experiencing. But deep down, he knew something else was at play here.
His thoughts were cut short as his mother placed a delicate hand on his forehead, leaning in to kiss him gently. It was a soft, simple gesture, but it sparked something within him—a connection he hadn't expected. He wasn't alone, not yet. Not in this body.
A sudden surge of power rippled through him, a whisper of energy so faint that only he could feel it. His body tingled. Something awakened deep within his chest. It was like a forgotten memory returning, the warm hum of magic, of something greater than the life of a helpless infant.
And then, almost too fast to comprehend, a familiar voice broke through the haze.
"Finally. You've unlocked it. Welcome to the Necromancer Class, meatbag. I'll help you learn to use it… or rather, I'll force you to use it. But don't expect an easy ride. No more coddling. You'll need to learn fast, kid."
Ray's heart skipped a beat. His eyes fluttered open, and he turned to see his mother smiling down at him. But the words echoing in his mind weren't hers—they were System 15's.
"Let's see what you can do with that spark, huh?"
A flicker of hope rose within him, tempered by caution. There was no going back now.
---
End of Chapter 3.Chapter 4: Unseen Forces, First Death
Ray awoke to a strange, muffled sensation, as though the world around him had thickened, closing in from all sides. His small body, tucked beneath his mother's protective arm, felt oddly detached from his surroundings. Her heartbeat, steady and comforting, was the only sound that grounded him, and yet something else was stirring inside him—a quiet, dangerous energy that felt entirely out of place in a baby's fragile body.
"No, you're not imagining it, meatbag. That's death whispering to you."
Ray clenched his fists in response to System 15's voice. It was the kind of commentary that made him wonder if he'd ever experience peace again. Not that he was particularly fond of peace. But for now, this was different. It was almost like the quiet hum of a forbidden knowledge, one that was eager to emerge, to consume.
Ray had been training himself—if such a term could be used to describe what a three-year-old could accomplish—with his own senses. The spark, the flicker of potential that the system had unceremoniously dragged him into, had been growing steadily stronger. Not enough to tear the world apart, but enough for Ray to know that he was changing.
What truly unsettled him, however, was the fact that his mother had begun to notice things. The small flickers of his eyes when he stared too long at her, the faint shifts in his hands as if they were testing the air, like the precursors to some unseen storm. She noticed, but she didn't ask. She simply continued on with her quiet, careful training.
"Strength is in the silence," she had told him once. "A true warrior does not let the world see his power before the moment comes. You must become the power before anyone ever feels it."
Ray wasn't sure if that advice applied to a baby with an otherworldly necromancer class, but for now, it was all he had.
The real moment of awakening came when Ray found himself staring at the corner of his room one morning. His mother had gone outside to tend to the garden, and the twins were off playing. The room was bathed in sunlight, but in that light, something felt wrong. A shift in the air. A coldness creeping in.
And then, it happened.
A small insect, a moth, flew into the room, fluttering softly in the stillness. Ray's eyes locked on it.
"You're going to do it now, aren't you? Don't disappoint me, meatbag." System 15's voice was practically buzzing with excitement.
He didn't hesitate. There was no time for hesitation. Without thinking, he focused on the tiny creature. He could feel the energy in the air—the same dark, unfamiliar energy that coursed through his very veins now. It was instinctive, raw, dangerous.
Ray's focus tightened. The moth's delicate wings fluttered slower and slower, until its movements froze altogether. Time seemed to stretch, pulling the world into a single point of concentration. And then, with a thought, he released the energy he'd been holding back.
The moth's fragile form jerked upright, its wings twitching erratically. And then, as if to mock Ray's control, it exploded into a cloud of dust.
Ray blinked, momentarily confused by what he had just witnessed. The force of it—was this what necromancy truly felt like? He had no time to question it. The aftermath of his "success" had already started.
The sound of footsteps grew louder, and Ray's mother entered the room. Her eyes immediately flicked to the remains of the moth, its tiny body reduced to a pile of dust. But she didn't ask questions. Instead, her gaze sharpened, as though she already knew something was off.
She took a deep breath. "I see it's begun."
Ray was about to respond, but his mother caught his gaze, and for the first time, she looked at him as though she had seen through his disguise. The smile that followed was soft—too soft—and laced with something Ray couldn't quite place.
"I'll be watching, Ray. You'll need more than just your power to survive this world. But we'll figure it out together."
Ray's thoughts flickered toward the familiar voice in his head, but he kept quiet. For now, his mother's words held a certain weight. She didn't know about the necromancy, but she was aware that something in him had shifted. That was enough for now.
As the day went on, Ray found himself alone once again, the silence of the room almost suffocating. His mind wandered to the memory of his past life, to the betrayal he had faced. The faces of his so-called comrades, the knives in his back. The cold, calculating darkness of the world he had once lived in was never far from his thoughts.
And yet, as much as that past haunted him, there was something else now. Something that made him want to claw his way forward, to escape the looming shadow of his previous life and embrace whatever this new one could offer.
"You really are getting good at this, meatbag. Too bad that moth didn't last longer, though. You've got potential, but potential doesn't mean anything until you can control it."
Ray sighed, rubbing his eyes. Control. The one thing he didn't have. But maybe, just maybe, it was within his reach. He wasn't sure how he knew it, but it felt like a truth.
And that's when it happened.
The next ripple of power, the next sign of what Ray was becoming, surged through him. This time, it wasn't a tiny insect that felt his touch. No, this time, it was a living being, a creature still bound by the laws of life and death, that found itself caught in Ray's web.
It was an old, sickly bird that had flown too close to his Domain, unaware of the creeping energy that surrounded it. And when Ray focused—truly focused—he felt the power surge within him, out of control, reckless.
But it worked. The bird, like the moth, froze.
Ray's tiny lips curled into a smile. Not a proud smile, but something darker. A taste of what was to come.
In that moment, Ray realized something—he was no longer just a helpless child. He wasn't the helpless baby of a powerless family. He was becoming something else.
The question was: Could he control it before it controlled him?
---
End of Chapter 4.Chapter 5: The Awakening of Power
The morning sun poured through the narrow window of Ray's room, casting long shadows across the floor. His mother's soft voice called from outside, her tone sharp yet affectionate as she summoned him for his daily training. The same training that had become a part of Ray's routine, one he'd grown to loathe and secretly embrace. His mother was strict, almost painfully so, but in her eyes was a burning determination that Ray couldn't ignore.
Today, however, felt different. There was a weight to the air, an unseen presence that lingered in the corners of the room like an old friend who had overstayed its welcome. It was the same feeling he had when he had revived the moth and the bird—an unspoken understanding that his powers were growing.
As Ray crawled toward the door, his hands trembling slightly with a mixture of excitement and fear, he felt the familiar pull of System 15's presence.
"Well, well, meatbag. Feeling the power rush? It's only going to get worse from here. But don't worry. You'll get used to it. Or die trying."
Ray sighed, resisting the urge to voice his frustration. Talking to the system was like having a conversation with a particularly annoying older sibling who never knew when to shut up. Still, the words—albeit sarcastic—had a grain of truth in them. Power was coming. And he was dangerously close to losing control.
He pushed the door open and emerged into the bright light of the courtyard. His mother was waiting for him, her sharp gaze tracking every move. Beside her, his twin siblings were already in the midst of a mock sparring match, shouting at each other as they traded light blows. Ray's older sister was in her usual aggressive state, the one she'd inherited from their mother. His brother, on the other hand, was gentle—more thoughtful and often the target of his sister's playful rage.
"Ray, come here," his mother called, her voice firm but soft. "I've been waiting for you."
Ray nodded, walking toward her with deliberate slowness. As he approached, he noticed the small pouch on her belt—the one she always carried when she went into the village. Inside, he knew there were herbs, potions, and possibly something more.
Her eyes softened just a touch as she looked at him. "You've been quieter lately. I'm starting to wonder if you're becoming the 'strong' man I've been hoping for. Or just a quiet little demon."
Ray felt a flicker of unease at the mention of demons. It reminded him of the dark power he was still trying to come to terms with. The necromancer class, with its unpredictable and dangerous potential, felt like an anchor weighing him down with each passing day.
"You're one step closer to unleashing your true potential. Or falling apart. It's fun either way." System 15 added helpfully.
Ray's lips twitched, but he said nothing. Instead, he dropped into a crouch in front of his mother, mimicking the movements she'd taught him for years. Basic stances. Guard position. It was all so mundane, yet for some reason, it grounded him.
"You need to work on your focus," his mother said, voice cutting through the quiet. "Your balance is fine, but your mind is elsewhere."
Ray didn't respond, letting the quiet spread between them. He concentrated on his breath, feeling the air move in and out of his lungs, allowing himself to forget about the strange feelings surging inside him. The shifting energies that crawled just beneath his skin. The whispers of death, of a power far greater than anything his family could hope to understand.
"Focus on what you can control," she said, almost like she was speaking to herself. "The rest will come."
Ray nodded, pretending to be immersed in his training. But even as he stood and shifted through his basic stances, his mind wandered. To the power that lurked beneath the surface, to the domain that was slowly revealing itself to him.
The No-Bark Tree had become more than just an oddity. It was the one stable thing in his world, a symbol of everything Ray had yet to comprehend. And yet, it was in that desolate space that Ray felt the most himself. Away from the watchful eyes of his family, away from the expectations and limitations, he could be free.
"Oh, come on. You really think a pathetic little tree is going to be your salvation? It's an artifact of your class, you idiot. The sooner you use it, the sooner you start making real progress. But fine, keep staring at it. See if I care."
Ray ignored System 15's mockery. What the system didn't understand was that there was a connection he felt in the No-Bark Tree. Maybe it wasn't the salvation System 15 seemed to think it was, but it was something he needed. The more he returned to that space, the more familiar it became. The more it felt like home.
---
Later that day, after training, Ray found himself alone again, the rest of his family busy with their own duties. His mother, his sister, and brother were all away at the village, leaving Ray to his thoughts.
He slipped away unnoticed, his movements quick and silent. He was careful not to draw attention to himself. It wasn't that he couldn't handle the training or the attention—it was that he didn't want it. Not yet. Not when his mind was still reeling from everything.
Once inside his room, he moved swiftly to the small corner where he'd stored his things—the simple scraps of items that had come with him from the village. Nothing significant. But Ray didn't need much. His focus shifted back to the single item that had become his lifeline in the chaos of his new life: the No-Bark Tree.
His Domain, though still locked, hummed with energy. The tree had grown in small ways since the first time he'd seen it. The twisted branches had become a little more defined, though they still lacked any semblance of leaves or life. But there was something in its presence that felt almost alive.
Ray reached out, carefully touching the space around the tree. His fingers tingled with unfamiliar energy, and for a moment, he thought he might be able to pull something out of it. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was something hidden inside the tree that might give him the answers he needed.
"You'll have to unlock more of your potential to get anything useful out of that thing, meatbag. It's just a placeholder until you level up more." System 15's voice was dismissive, but Ray didn't let it distract him.
Ray concentrated, pulling at the threads of his power, testing the boundaries of his necromancy, but for the first time, something else happened.
The tree reacted.
A low hum filled the room, vibrating the very air around him. The branches shifted, twisting like they were reaching toward him. It wasn't much, but it was enough to send a shiver down his spine.
His heart pounded as he watched, utterly captivated. The energy was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. The tree had responded to his command, to his touch.
"You've just unlocked something, huh? Look at you, getting all cozy with your power. Pathetic."
Ray didn't care. The No-Bark Tree wasn't just a symbol now—it was a part of him.
And that part would change everything.
---
End of Chapter 5.---
Chapter 6: The Forge, the Fool, and the Family Business
Ray sat on a stone bench in the courtyard, legs dangling like a toddler he was, soul weary like a war veteran he had been. He watched his father hammering away in the family forge, shirt off, sweat gleaming on muscle, face twisted in stoic focus like he was solving quantum physics with every swing.
Ray blinked.
Then frowned.
Then slowly turned to the sarcastic voice inside his head.
"He's shirtless again."
System 15: Are you jealous? Because honestly, if I had to be reincarnated, I'd at least pick someone with abs by age five.
Ray squinted. I was two years old three weeks ago.
System 15: And yet you still have no six-pack. Disgraceful.
The forge roared, sending sparks flying as his father—Auron—grunted and smacked a red-hot blade into shape with more passion than Ray had ever seen him show toward anything else. Especially parenting.
Ray admired him, of course. His father was a Rank 5 warrior, an exiled noble, a feared blacksmith once whispered about in the capital… and also the man who once tried to name Ray "Anvil" at birth because it "sounded strong."
The door behind him creaked, followed by a thud and the unmistakable sound of someone cursing softly in a very old, very familiar voice.
"Damn knees," said the grandfather, stomping into the courtyard with all the grace of a drunken bear. "Where's that good-for-nothing son of mine? I asked for a spearhead yesterday and got a damn horseshoe!"
"I told you it was a design test," Auron grunted without looking up. "And you said your knees were hurting. I thought you'd appreciate some hoof support."
The old man growled, rubbing his leg. "Support this, boy."
Ray watched the exchange like it was theater. His grandfather—a Rank 7 warrior who once cut down a Beast King—was now arguing over blacksmithing logistics like a grumpy village uncle.
Then came the grandmother.
"Enough," she said, her voice calm, dangerous, and sugar-sweet in a way that promised punishment. "If you two keep squabbling, I'm going to smack both your heads together and tell the children you died nobly."
Both men went silent.
Ray didn't move. He was enjoying this too much.
"Ray, darling," Grandmother said, softening as she turned to him. She knelt, brushed his hair from his eyes, and held out a small silver ring with the family crest—a phoenix circling a broken sword.
"You'll need this when the world tries to take what's yours. And believe me… it will try."
Ray stared at the ring, his baby fingers curling slowly around it.
His tiny brain went: Cool.
His soul, however, whispered: That's a war promise.
System 15 chimed in: And also possibly cursed. Five coins say it burns if you put it on your left hand.
"Do you… want him to wear that now?" Auron asked, eyeing the ring. "He's five."
"I was wielding a sword at five," Grandfather grunted.
"You also married a witch at fifteen and got cursed with bad knees," Auron said.
"WORTH IT!" the old man snapped.
Ray's uncle entered just in time to catch that last bit. He was clean, sharp-eyed, still wearing his academy robes from the Military World. Unlike the rest of them, he looked like he bathed daily and paid taxes.
"Well," Uncle Thane said dryly. "I see retirement is treating you all with immense maturity."
Grandfather raised a fist. "Say that again, boy."
Thane pointed at Ray. "I was talking to him."
Ray lifted a brow, baby face blank. Thane smirked and dropped beside him, pulling out a scroll. "Thought you might like to see what's happening in the outside world. Did you know the western gates are weakening?"
Ray tensed slightly. He did know. He'd seen glimpses in System 15's broken "Future Events" feed.
System 15: Spoiler alert: We're all gonna die. But hey, look at the bright side. Free skeletons.
Thane nudged Ray. "One day, you'll come with me. You'll be strong enough. Maybe even stronger than your dad."
"Unlikely," Auron muttered, but he was smiling now, just a little. "Boy still cries when the goat sneezes."
"It was loud," Ray finally muttered aloud, drawing surprised looks from the others.
It was one of the first times he'd spoken all day.
Grandfather beamed. "See? The boy's got spirit."
Grandmother smiled fondly. "He's always had more than you."
Ray just sat there, family bickering all around him, and for the first time since awakening in this new life—he laughed. Just a small laugh. Dry. Quiet. But real.
Because even if the world was falling apart, even if he had death magic and a glitchy system whispering sarcastic nonsense in his skull… he had this.
Family. Chaos. Madness. Love, hidden in swords and sarcasm.
And that?
That was enough to start.
---Chapter 6: Glitches and Ghost Whispers
Ray turned three.
The day passed with no grand celebration, just a quiet meal and a wooden sword from his father that weighed more than his toddler arms could lift.
"You'll grow into it," his father said, like that solved everything.
Ray nodded with the serious expression of a child who secretly wanted to use it to decapitate cabbages.
They were in the courtyard. His twin brother was chasing a chicken while screaming about justice. His sister had already trapped a frog in her pocket. Their mother, thankfully, was off training with the village guards.
Ray was sitting cross-legged under a tree, chewing bread and pretending he hadn't just tried to sense mana again for the 30th time this week.
It was then—amid the chirping birds, clucking chickens, and faint hammering from the forge—that a voice echoed inside his head.
No warning. No prompt. No mercy.
[Welcome, Meatbag.]
[System 15 Initializing. Brace for nonsense.]
Ray blinked.
Then blinked again.
[ERROR: Baby detected. Intellect scan in progress… huh. You shouldn't be this smart. Suspicious little bastard, aren't you?]
The bread fell out of his mouth.
No. No no no. Not now. Not here.
But the voice—loud, glitchy, and dripping sarcasm—kept going.
[Congratulations! You've unlocked the Legendary Broken Beta of System 15. Version 0.00000001. Expect bugs. And maybe explosions.]
Ray coughed and fake-laughed. "Heh. Funny."
His brother looked over and squinted. "You talkin' to ghosts again?"
Ray gave him a thumbs up. "Yeah. Friendly ones."
System 15: Define 'friendly.' I might kill you later if you annoy me. For now, enjoy the tutorial. Or not. Who cares?
Ray stood up shakily. His heart was pounding. His thoughts raced.
A System. Early. At age three.
He remembered what the God said—powers, domain, gifts. But I thought those would come later…
[Hidden Class Detected: Necromancer]
[Domain: Locked. God Shop: Locked. Your sanity: Also locked.]
Ray took a shaky breath and walked toward the garden wall. A dead beetle lay there, stiff and forgotten.
He knelt.
Stared.
Then whispered, "...Rise."
The beetle twitched.
Shivered.
And stood on its little legs. Backwards.
"Holy sh—"
BOOM.
The beetle exploded. Bits of shell hit him in the face. Ray fell back, screamed, and wailed with all the drama a toddler could summon.
His father poked his head out of the forge. "Ray?"
Ray cried harder.
His sister came running. "Did he eat a bug again?"
Ray sniffled. "Bug... f-f-fought back..."
His father muttered something about strong immune systems and went back to work.
Ray rolled onto his back, eyes wide.
System 15: Congratulations. You just necro-popped your first minion. A glorious beginning for the future Lord of Exploding Insects.
He groaned.
What the hell did I sign up for.
But even through the ashes of beetle gore and baby tears… Ray was grinning.
Something had changed.
Something had begun.
And this time, he wasn't alone.
---
En---
Chapter 7: Death Energy, Wooden Swords, and Daddy Issues
It had been three weeks since the Great Beetle Explosion of Shame.
Ray hadn't resurrected another bug since. Not out of fear—no, never fear—but because he was testing variables. Like any reasonable three-year-old necromancer would.
System 15 didn't shut up once.
[Stat Update: Baby Rank - 3 years of failure. Death Energy - 0.0001%. Intelligence - wasted.]
Ray ignored the messages. Mostly. Okay, not really. He scribbled them into dirt with a stick when no one was looking.
His twin brother saw it once and asked if it was a secret code.
Ray said, "Yes. It says you smell."
System 15 approved.
---
His father began training him with a wooden sword that felt like carrying a log with a handle.
They stood in the backyard, surrounded by dummies made of hay and bad decisions.
"You swing like you're apologizing to the enemy," his father grunted.
Ray blinked innocently. "Sorry."
Thwack—the sword missed and hit dirt.
"You're three. You can't even hold it properly, but your stance is too balanced. That's not normal."
Ray coughed. "I eat a lot of soup?"
His father squinted. "Don't joke. Your mother might think it's cute, but I was exiled for less than a lie."
Ray paused.
That tone. Not angry—but heavy. His father rarely talked about the exile. Even less about the noble house.
Ray tried to look clumsy on the next swing, tripping and falling into a dramatic heap.
His father sighed and picked him up by the back of his tunic. "You're weird. But you're my weird."
Ray smiled. For all his stoic energy and blacksmith callouses, his father was good to him. Awkward, distant—but solid.
System 15, of course, ruined the moment.
[Aw. Fatherly love detected. Barf counter: +1.]
---
Later that evening, Ray snuck behind the house while the twins were wrestling over soup spoons and his mother was yelling at a duck. (Long story.)
In the shade, near the root of a dying tree, he sat.
Closed his eyes.
Focused.
Mana was slippery. Like catching mist with bare hands. But death energy… it pulsed differently. Cold. Sharp. Hungry.
Ray breathed out, slow.
A leaf next to him blackened. Just slightly. Barely noticeable.
System 15 purred.
[Achievement Unlocked: Grim Toddler – First Taste of Death Energy]
[Reward: Absolutely Nothing. Get better.]
Ray grinned.
Then froze.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Familiar.
His grandfather.
The one who ruled the main noble estate like a cold god with a cane and a sword.
"You were… meditating?" the old man asked, voice like steel.
Ray looked up, blinking wide eyes. "I was playing dead."
A long silence.
Then—surprisingly—a laugh.
"Hah! Better that than wasting breath. Good reflex."
He turned to leave, but paused. "Your father's afraid of your future. I'm not. Don't disappoint me, boy."
Ray's grin faded.
He sat back in the dirt, fidgeting with the wooden sword.
What the hell do you expect me to become, old man?
---
End of Chapter 7---
Chapter 8: Whispers in the Dirt, Domain at Dawn
The rat was already dead when Ray found it. Or, well, half a rat.
Its body had been squashed under the wheel of a farmer's cart. Most of the guts were gone, and it smelled like depression and poor hygiene.
Perfect.
Ray dragged the corpse behind a tree with the ceremonial grace of a toddler smuggling contraband candy.
System 15 cooed in his mind like a corrupted lullaby.
[Initiating: Undead Creation – Level 0.1]
[Warning: This is a rat. Are you proud?]
Ray ignored the sarcasm, hands trembling slightly as he drew death energy from his core. It wasn't smooth—it was jagged, like broken glass sliding across his veins.
The rat twitched.
Twitched again.
Then stood.
Not gracefully. Not even correctly. It sort of… wobbled.
Ray clapped once, delighted.
"Success!" he whispered, grinning like a maniacal goblin child.
The rat promptly tried to run up his leg.
"Nope!" He kicked it off with just enough force to send it tumbling onto its back, where it lay flailing like a discount zombie.
System 15 gave a slow golf clap.
[Congratulations. You've raised 'General Whiskers,' the ugliest military commander in history.]
[Undead Created: 1/10]
[Domain Sync: 20%... 35%... 51%...]
Wait—what?
Ray froze as the world… rippled.
The trees around him blurred for a moment, as if someone wiped a greasy hand across reality.
Then he wasn't in the forest anymore.
He stood in a gray, endless field. Fog clung to the air. The wind smelled like bones and forgotten names.
A single black tree loomed ahead. Twisted. Leafless. Silent.
System 15 said, with unusual seriousness:
[Welcome to your Domain.]
---
Ray didn't move.
Not out of fear—but reverence.
This place... felt real. Ancient. Older than the world he was born into.
The No-Bark Tree pulsed once—its bark shifting with veins of black light.
Something stirred beneath the soil. Dozens of somethings.
Ray stepped forward, feeling the ground react.
It welcomed him.
No, it obeyed him.
This was his kingdom. Dead. Broken. Hidden.
A sandbox for monsters.
---
When he returned to the real world, only seconds had passed.
General Whiskers still flailed on the ground like a demonic plush toy.
Ray picked him up, tucked him into a basket, and buried the rest of the magic under his toddler smile.
---
At dinner, his father spoke with rare praise. "You've been more focused lately."
Ray nodded innocently, spooning soup into his mouth with the precision of a secret warlord.
His sister tried to steal his bread. He stabbed her hand with a spoon.
His brother cheered. Their mother sighed like a woman ten years older than her age.
Ray's eyes drifted to the crest hanging on the wall—the old family sigil, faded from time.
Not for long.
Soon, he'd raise more than rats.
And he wouldn't be playing dumb forever.
---
End---
Chapter 9: Domain, Glitches, and Exploding Bone Mice
The next time Ray entered his Domain, he came prepared.
Meaning, he brought three dead mice, a frog that might've been sleeping forever, and a beetle corpse that looked like it owed someone money.
System 15 greeted him the moment he stepped into the gray void.
[Initializing Domain Version 0.0000000002. Warning: still sucks.]
The No-Bark Tree pulsed again—less menacing this time, more like it was stretching after a nap. Roots shifted beneath the ground, forming a small circle around Ray like a twisted nursery playpen.
"Let's begin the experiments," Ray whispered, kneeling beside the corpses.
[Oh goody. Rodent necromancy. You're really aiming for the stars, huh?]
"Shut up, 15."
One by one, he infused death mana into each creature. The mice jerked to life first. One exploded.
The second spun in circles, yanked off its own tail, and then fainted.
The third… stood.
Shakily. But it stood.
Ray smiled. "General Whiskers gets company."
The frog twitched.
Then screamed.
Ray dropped it.
It croaked—and not the normal frog kind. This was a deep, raspy growl that did not belong to any amphibian. Its eyes glowed purple for exactly 1.2 seconds before the entire thing combusted into green slime.
System 15 snorted.
[Note to self: frogs are cursed.]
[Undead Count: 2. Explosion Count: 3. Mild Trauma: 5.]
Ray backed up. His domain pulsed again, the No-Bark Tree sending out tiny vines that pulled the remaining successful undead into the dirt.
They vanished.
Ray panicked.
"HEY! I worked hard on those!"
[Calm down, necro-baby. They've been absorbed into the Domain Storage. You can summon them back later. Assuming you don't break everything first.]
Ray blinked.
"Wait… I have storage now?"
A transparent panel opened in front of his eyes. Names appeared:
General Whiskers [Rat] – Level 1
Unnamed [Mouse] – Level 0]
Ray selected General Whiskers.
A shadow peeled out of the ground like oil on water. The rat emerged with a tiny bone helmet Ray definitely didn't give it.
He stared.
"Did you… level up?"
[Creatures left inside the Domain are passively trained. Think of it like daycare for the damned.]
Ray tried summoning both undead at once. It worked. Barely.
His mana dipped hard. His forehead felt like someone had scribbled on it with a migraine.
[Current Max Undead: 3]
[System Error: Mana Efficiency = Potato]
[Upgrade Available – Domain Expansion Slot: 1 Divine Point]
"…What's a Divine Point?"
[Wouldn't you like to know?]
---
Back in the real world, Ray collapsed in the barn hay, panting.
His sister poked her head in. "Why are you always tired, dummy?"
"Because I carry this family's future on my small, adorable shoulders," Ray muttered.
She blinked. "What?"
"Nothing. I'm three."
---
That night, Ray stared at the stars, the undead rat curled beside him like a loyal nightmare.
The Domain was real.
The undead were improving.
System 15 might be broken, but so was the world.
And Ray?
Ray was getting better at pretending to be weak.
---
EndAbsolutely. Here's the continuation.
---
Chapter 10: Whispering Roots and a Bone That Shouldn't Exist
There was something wrong with the No-Bark Tree today.
Ray stood in the center of his Domain, three undead dancing around him like a particularly horrifying toddler parade, and he felt it. A hum in the air. Like the tree was… watching him.
[Domain pulse detected. Root consciousness stirring. This is fine. Probably.]
System 15's tone was half-sarcasm, half-oh-no-we're-dying.
"Define 'root consciousness,'" Ray said aloud, drawing a circle in the dead soil with his finger. "Also define 'fine' because your definitions are garbage."
[You poked the Domain too hard. It poked back. Might be a baby World Tree fragment. Might be an ancient beast's toenail. Hard to say.]
The No-Bark Tree suddenly twitched.
A low grrrrrnnnngggk echoed through the void—like wood cracking under pressure… or bones being ground between teeth.
Ray took a step back.
General Whiskers, bless his tiny bone-filled heart, stepped forward. He hissed at the tree.
The tree hissed back.
Ray sighed. "I swear if this turns into some weird undead romance arc—"
[Shhh. Look.]
From the base of the No-Bark Tree, something emerged.
It wasn't a seed.
It wasn't a vine.
It was… a bone.
Perfectly clean. Curved. Old. Radiating death mana so thick Ray's teeth hurt.
It hovered mid-air, then landed at Ray's feet with a tap.
[New Structure Unlocked: Bone Catalyst.]
[Requirement Met – Domain Evolution Triggered.]
[Side Effects: Mild nausea. Existential dread. Unexpected erections.]
"15—"
[What? Just covering all the bases.]
Ray picked up the bone. His vision fractured for a second—images flashed.
A field of undead trees.
A battlefield flooded with ash.
A tower of skulls reaching into the stars.
Then it stopped.
[Bone Catalyst – Grade: ??? – Function: Unknown.]
Ray's hand trembled. "This… wasn't supposed to happen yet."
[You touched the root. The root touched back. Don't blame me for having an adventurous Domain.]
---
Back in the real world, Ray sat up in bed—sweaty, shaking, and slightly aroused.
"Goddamnit, 15."
His father, who was sharpening a blade nearby, raised an eyebrow.
"You alright?"
Ray nodded. "Just growing up."
His father snorted. "Right. Did your mana awaken yet, or are you still pretending to be the family's little disappointment?"
Ray blinked. "…You're a terrible father."
His father smirked. "And you're three. Get over it."
---
Later that day, Ray approached his grandmother and quietly asked, "Did our family ever use necromancy?"
She paused.
"…We were accused of it once. A long time ago. Why?"
Ray smiled sweetly.
"No reason. Just… curious."
---